Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Easter 3, Yr A)

EMMAUS ROAD
(Luke 24: 13-35)

What do I know of the Emmaus road,
except that I think it passes not far from my church,
runs through the local shopping mall,
runs through the main street of town,
through the neighborhoods where the houses
are so close together;
runs almost anywhere today.

What do I know of the Emmaus road,
except that maybe those who walk on it,
lonely in their grieving, stressed in their worrying,
fearful and anxious and searching for hope,
they look like me in the mirror some days,
and sometimes they look like you,
like just about anybody today.

What do I know of the Emmaus road,
except that the place where Jesus meets us,
where he shows up to walk and talk with us,
to come into our kitchens and break bread with us,
or where he reveals himself to us in the stranger,
in the person we can’t imagine as God’s beloved,
that place could be almost anyplace today.

What do I know of the Emmaus road,
except that I think I have some of the smell of it
soaking through to my skin when it rains;
have some of the dust of it sticking right here
on the leather of my worn-out shoes;
and this morning, in the sanctuary, the light
pouring in, isn’t that Christ sitting next to me
in the pew?

Copyright ©2017 by Andrew King

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Easter 2, Yr A)

JESUS CAME AND STOOD AMONG THEM
(John 20: 19-31)

Come to us, Lord Jesus,
into locked rooms of hopelessness,
move through shut doors of fearfulness,
show us your power over death,
speak to us your peace.

Come to us, Lord Jesus,
into our grief and loneliness,
overcome barriers of helplessness,
breathe upon us your healing Spirit,
speak to us your peace.

Come to us, Lord Jesus,
into our crouching defensiveness,
break through our walls of selfishness,
show us your wounds of love,
speak to us your peace.

Come to us, Lord Jesus,
into the caves of unforgiveness,
free us from our tombs of bitterness,
remind us of your saving mercy,
speak to us your peace.

Send us from here, Lord Jesus,
into our world of neediness,
the world of hate and unkindness,
send us in the name of God’s love,
send us in the strength of your peace.

Copyright ©2017 by Andrew King

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Lent 4, Yr A)

HELP US TO SEE
(John 9: 1-41)

What would we see, Lord,
if you healed our blindness today?

Would we see you at work
in the ones we think to be sinful?

Would we see you at work
among the outcasts of the world?

Would we see your love
for the poor, the homeless, the hungry?

Would we see your compassion
for the weak, the helpless, the afraid?

Would we see you
in the stranger, the foreigner, the refugee?

Would we see your likeness – can we grasp it –
in each one of ourselves?

Help us to see, Lord. Heal our blindness today.

Copyright ©2017 by Andrew King

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Epiphany 3, Yr A)

WHY YOU LEAVE YOUR NETS AND FOLLOW
(Matthew 4: 12-23)

Because your hope for that kingdom
has teased the edge of your thoughts
the way waters tease the edge of the shore

because his words stir that hope
in the depths of your soul
the way wind stirs the waves of the sea

because you sense that his love
like a sea without bounds
is as large as the needs of the world

and because he’s called you by name
and the heart in you swims
toward that love, toward joy, toward home

Copyright ©2017 by Andrew King

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Pentecost +6, Yr C)

TO GO TO JERUSALEM
(Luke 9: 51-62)

There you go, Lord, setting your face for Jerusalem,
setting your face for the cross of self-giving love,
there you go down
the road of self-sacrifice,
giving up a place to lay your head

to sit through the night with the sick ones,
to sleep under bridges with the homeless,
to sort the cans at the food bank,
to talk in the tent with the refugee,
to keep vigil with the hurting and grieving,

speaking to the darkness with your candle of hope,
speaking to the darkness with your light of love,
stirring the uncaring into action,
calling us to follow you on the difficult road,
calling us even though we stumble,

even though we’re not sure of our direction,
looking backward as so often we do,
reluctant to leave the familiar,
reluctant to leave our routines and traditions,
reluctant to give up our comfort,

but still hearing you,
still longing to journey with you,
still turning toward the sound of your voice
as you disappear around another corner
on the way

to the cross that lies just ahead.

Copyright ©2016 by Andrew King

Poem For Pentecost Sunday (Yr C)

SUDDENLY THERE CAME A SOUND. . .
(Acts 2: 1-21)

It was one of those days where
leaves are thrashed
from tree branches writhing
under a racing sky,
and my childhood friend playing
outdoors with me wondered:
does the wind
ever stop blowing?

And does it stop somewhere, he asked again,
or just keep going around and around the world?

Back then I said I didn’t know
but now I know there came a day
when a wind began in a certain house
that filled with a light like flame,

and that wind had the roar of justice,
and that wind had the rush of love,
and that wind had the whisper of peace and compassion,
and it carried the words of hope and joy
to an anxious and needy world,

and it was gentle enough to touch the wounded soul
and strong enough to stir the ever seeking hearts
of women and men, young and old,
from city to distant shores,

and it pulled down walls of distrust and fear
and threw open doors of possibility,
and oaks of hatred have bent in its path
and palisades of pain have fallen to its strength
and new life has spread like scattered seed

and yes, my friend, that wind
circles the world
and no,
it has never stopped blowing.

Copyright ©2016 by Andrew King

Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Easter 5, Yr C)

GOSPEL WITHOUT WALLS
(Acts 11: 1-18; John 13: 31-35)

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall. . .” – Robert Frost

Some One there is who ever loves us all,
whose grace declares none of us unclean,
in whose life and death barriers come down:
Jesus is one who doesn’t love a wall.

To love our neighbour, near and far, our call,
and more: to love as Jesus loved, for that,
he said, will truly mark his followers.
Jesus is one who doesn’t love a wall.

And this Peter discovered in the fall
of a rigid prejudice held so long
only the voice of God could shake it loose –
our Lord is one who doesn’t love a wall.

May this, too, be our vision, seeing all
as God sees, undivided by our fears,
resentments, our old sinful selfishness,
God-graced to share the gospel without walls.

Copyright ©2016 by Andrew King