Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Christmas 2, Yr C)

(Ephesians 1: 3-14; John 1: 1-18)

It’s the first Sunday of the starting year.
Once more we hear the usual news on
the radio: the deaths by gun and bomb,
the lives awash in pain, the anxious fears

of many an “expert” for tomorrow.
Hatreds rear their ugly heads, raging roars
in the mouths of the powerful, the doors
to chaos swing on oiled hinges. Sorrow

abounds. Where now, we ask, is the newness
of the turned page? Where the fresh beginning?
How may we know that goodness is winning
and that sunrise is rolling back darkness?

We may know by listening well: a song
from long ago is still being sung, ringing
like a bell in the shadows and bringing
hope, both old and fresh as dawn, to the long

patient march of the years toward God’s planned
healing of the human world and hurt earth.
That song is the Word made flesh, given birth
into time and into us; and in our hands

is placed Christ’s grace – grace upon grace – the light
that darkness has not overcome. Despair
may tempt still. But in us, through us, God’s care
for the world flows, song of God’s own delight,

and with the strength of that care always near
in our hearts, faith points our eyes toward joy:
seeing the turned page indeed as new day
for service that will create a new year.

Copyright © 2016 by Andrew King

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Christmas 1, Yr C)

(Luke 2: 41-52)

If we miss you leaving the festival
leaving the celebrations and memories
leaving the feasting and traditions
leaving the prayers and the songs;

if we miss you leaving the festival
returning to the stresses and pressures
returning to demands and deadlines
returning to the everyday routines –

we can find you in places of peacefulness
we can find you where wisdom is spoken
we can find you where holiness is nurtured
we can find you where God’s love is shared

and we will find you back with us in our travels
we will find you still with us at home
we will find you growing stronger within us
your grace embracing us, our hearts your own.

Christmas Eve (Yr C)

(Luke 2: 1-20)

Here is the emptiness of my night
     may it be filled with your glory
Here are the silences of my heart
     may they be filled with your songs

Here is the watchfulness of my eyes
     may they be opened to wonder
Here is the listening of my soul
     may it hear the joy of your love

Here is the hopefulness of my journey
     may it lead me swift to your side
Here is the searching of my anxious mind
     may it find rest in your peace

Here is the wood and straw of my days
     may they be a bed for your presence
And here is the humble cave of my life
     may it be your home, gentle Saviour.

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Advent 3, Yr C)

(Luke 3: 7-18)

I am stone, hard, unpolished, rough,
trying to claim special favour and place.
O Lord, can you change my flint heart enough
that it become a fertile field for grace?

I am the tree whose raw fruit often proves
to be unsweet to others. Can you take
your love’s blade to my selfish roots, move
me, graft your grace into all that I make?

I the grain shell-bound; any useful seed
hidden in me, Lord, requires your sifting.
Will you remove my chaff that I might feed
your hungry, any whose heart needs lifting?

Yes, bathe me, flame me with your love, I pray,
that, by your Spirit given life anew,
I may light bright fires of your sacred praise
and live to serve your will in all I do.

Copyright © 2015 by Andrew King