A kind of light in the dark,
a kind of light so small
we may think it only weak
and insignificant, insufficient,
in a night beset by fear,
a world besieged by gloom
Yet a kind of light, a true,
of bright splendor descended
and bounded in frail flesh
to pulse a boundless love,
that we may awake, may arise,
to day, to realm, of glory suffused
Friday, December 25, 2015
Monday, December 21, 2015
Life and Death in Christ
We are too quick to speak of life in Christ without sufficient attention to death in Christ.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
The Fire-Winged Dove
Near at hand --
just across the autumn-flecked ravine
in yards of well-clipped brick homes --
in all-consuming strength of play
little voices rise in ignorance
of hushed diminishings of evening.
A dove breaks cover
pierces through the leafy veil
ascends the sky as one belonging so
as drawing all things up with it
in rushing strength of will
against the drag of aged woods' debris.
The children clap and laugh
beholding such a wondrous rising.
Upturned faces eagerly shine
as ruddy little suns flamed
by wings glinting of light in the west.
They would happily plume the air as well
in imitation of the fire-winged dove --
so taken are they by leaping delight --
but parents call them in with clipped cries
to darkened rooms and sleep
(and restless burning dreams).
just across the autumn-flecked ravine
in yards of well-clipped brick homes --
in all-consuming strength of play
little voices rise in ignorance
of hushed diminishings of evening.
A dove breaks cover
pierces through the leafy veil
ascends the sky as one belonging so
as drawing all things up with it
in rushing strength of will
against the drag of aged woods' debris.
The children clap and laugh
beholding such a wondrous rising.
Upturned faces eagerly shine
as ruddy little suns flamed
by wings glinting of light in the west.
They would happily plume the air as well
in imitation of the fire-winged dove --
so taken are they by leaping delight --
but parents call them in with clipped cries
to darkened rooms and sleep
(and restless burning dreams).
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
I Scatter Words
I scatter words of prayer,
a little here, a little there,
from day to day, now years,
and wonder still what ears.
a little here, a little there,
from day to day, now years,
and wonder still what ears.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Wisdom and Art in Theology
Wisdom and art in the practice of theology involve the disciplines of discerning what to say, how to say it, and what not to say.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Theology Must Serve Love
Theology must serve love: love for God and for his world. It has no other serious justification.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
A Copious Blossoming
Here in mid April, certain trees, especially cherries and pears, from renaissance in root and branch body forth clouds, not high and insubstantial but near and tangible, in multi-hued layers of white and pink, with splashes and points of green and orange, even petaled hints of bluish-gray, and through all a copious blossoming of glory.
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