Jesus of the Scars by Edward Shillito
If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow;
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars we claim Thy grace.
If when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know today what wounds are; have no fear;
Show us Thy Scars; we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong, but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.
{discovered via poikilos }
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
A Love Song, of Sorts
Love Song: I and Thou
By Alan Dugan
Nothing is plumb, level, or square:
Posted by Jadon at 6:39 PM 0 comments
Labels: alienation, love, poetry
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
More Than Extravagant Gifts
Journey of the Magi by T.S. Elliot (to hear the author reciting, click here)
"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
Posted by Jadon at 3:02 PM 0 comments
Labels: alienation, christmas, humility, poetry
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
To Feel Fine?
Thomas Calloway at TEDxAsheville {via: TEDxTalks)
Posted by Jadon at 12:54 AM 0 comments
Labels: alienation, apocalypse, realism
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
St. Patrick's Breastplate
[via apirecords]
Posted by Jadon at 8:59 PM 0 comments
Labels: Christianity, church, confession, hope, movie, spirituality, St. Patrick's Day, theology, video, wonder
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Story, Journalism, and Activism: KONY2012
(NOTE: The clip from the KONY2012 video here has no sound.)
[via Up with Chris Hayes]
Posted by Jadon at 9:37 PM 0 comments
Labels: aesthetics, art, communication, critique, culture, history, internet, media, story, strategy, technology, video
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Resolving Not to End
[via CGPGrey]
Posted by Jadon at 4:52 PM 0 comments
Labels: apocalypse, critique, humility, humor