My heart is like an iceberg
Not cold and hard
But seven-tenths hidden
If I love you only
With the tenths that show
My love won't last the course
But if I am to love you
With my whole heart
I must face the pain
Of hidden things
Surfacing
Come, Lord
With the Titanic of your love
Collide with my heart
And in that great collision
Let it be my reservations
That sink forever
I want to follow Rob’s God;
God-the-goal of my soul’s education.
Rob’s God is approachable, articulate and artful,
A glowing God, of graceful inclination.
Rob’s God snowboards cloudscapes
And paints daisies on his toes,
While watching Chaplin re-runs
On his i-Pod.
He smiles at cats and children,
Jumps in puddles with his shoes on,
A ‘where’s-the-fun -in-fundamentalism?’ God.
Rob’s God doesn’t shoot
His own wounded,
Or blame the poor for failing
At prosperity.
He doesn’t beat the broken
With bruised reeds from their garden,
Or tell the sick that healing’s their
Responsibility.
Rob’s God is a poet,
Painting people as his poems;
A sculptor shaping symphonies from stone
A maker of mosaics
Curator of collages
Woven from the wounds and wonders
We have known
A furnace of forgiveness;
Rob’s God radiates reunion
Pouring oil on every fight
We’ve ever started
A living lover
Loving laughter
Lending light
To the helpless and the harmed and heavy-hearted
Other Gods may claim more crowded churches
Higher profiles
Better ratings
Fuller phone-ins
But in the contest for commitment
In the battle for belief
In the war to woo my worship;
Rob’s God wins
In the fight for my faith’s fervour:
In the struggle for my soul;
In the race for my respect
Rob’s God wins.
Absolutely.
Gerard Kelly May 11th 2006
Supermarket trolley, Oh Supermarket trolley
Discarded and forgotten like an outdated song
Do you remember the time when,
Chrome-bright and jolly,
You danced like a dodgem
Through the fruit-weighing throng?
I know some would accuse me of sentimental folly
But I'm sad
To see the drowning
Of a supermarket trolley
Your mesh in enmeshed now with river weed and slime
And the letters on your handle
Are irreversibly smudged,
And though I could simply say
That you've fallen on hard times,
It gives me unexpected pleasure
To believe you're being judged
For all those times in some crowded aisle or other
When I pushed you one way
And your wheels
Went another...
May you who are restless
Find rest
And in rest, restoration
And the healing
Of your hollow soul
May peace be yours
-
May you who are frozen
Find freedom
And in freedom the faith
To face the fire
And the thawing
Of your ice-gripped heart
May peace be yours
-
May you who are conflicted
Find convergence
And in convergence
Confidence
To be the one new child
Of your old divided self
May peace be yours
-
May you who live in tension
Find tenderness
And in tenderness the tendency
To kindness
And the creativity
Of a caring character
May peace be yours
-
And you who are Godless
May you find God
And in God,
The grace and growth you need
For fruit and fullness
And the love that will last you
Through the long-haul
Of a lived-for-others life
May peace be yours
Hallowed be your name
For you are Frank
With us and firm in your forgiveness
When the junk of sin
So tangled in our nets
Must be cut free
Hallowed be your name
-
Hallowed be your name For you are Jasper In our poverty And Beryl To our sand And you are Ruby In the clay pots of our lives Hallowed be your name
Hallowed be your name
For you are Justin
All your ways, and true,
And Patience is your nature.
We have Faith in your fullness
We learn
From your Earnest love
Hallowed be your name
-
Hallowed be your name
For you Mark us with your love
And Carrie us
Through every shadowed valley
And wherever Hugo
We will run to follow
For in the Nick of time,
On the very Eve of eternity,
Saved by the Belle
We will glory in the triumph
Of your Grace
Hallowed be your name
Arrest me Oh God, until I am free
Blind me until the scales fall from my eyes
Cajole me, coral me, confront what’s soft in me
God of comfort; who will never compromise
Divorce me, my God, from all that harms my heart
Extend me beyond my feeble dreams
Fix me, firm and fast, to your unfolding future
God of visions; who is not what he may seem
Glue me, great God, in the grip of your goodness
Hold me in the harbour of your hand
Infuse me; inspire me; invest in my perfection
God of grace I will not always understand
Jump-start me, jolting God when my own ignition fails me
Kick me into life when life is waiting
Leap frog my reluctance, lead me in your dance
God of sacrifice, on whose thin ice I am skating
Mark me, wounded God, with the subtle bruise of love
Needle me with needs that crave compassion
Outrage my inhibitions; violate my isolation
God of giving who will not remain unmoved
Provoke me, powerful God, to a panoramic vision
Question me when I excuse my small ambitions
Reason with me; read intentions; renew imagination
God of dreams who can do more than I can dream of
Scorch me, searing God, when my temperature is falling
Traumatise me when my spirit is sedated
Upset my dull routines; undermine my oversleeping
God of wildfire, who will not be domesticated
Vaccinate me, holy God, against the selfish gene’s encroachment
Wash the self-inflicted wounds of my false feelings
X-ray my heart until every motive shows
God of hygiene, holding out for my full healing
Yearn for me God of love whose very life is longing
Zero-in on every hindrance to my wholeness
Zoom-in on my mind-maps
Zone-out my danger zones
God of endings who will leave no song unended
Made in the image of my father:
Breath-filled:
His will to live Kindling my life,
His call to be Driving my being.
My heart is sparked By his heart;
My mind is fired By his imagination
My animation Is his declaration:
Because he is I am.
Made in the image of my father:
Able
Artful; articulate
Created to create
Pulsing with potential.
Designed to design;
Invented for invention,
Made to make.
Through His eyes I see possibilities
Through His ears I hear harmonies
In His heart beat I feel life’s dancing rhythms.
Because he can
I will
Made in the image of my father:
Dependent
Rooted in relationship
Commissioned for companionship
A free individual Made free in community
Distinct Yet needing devotion
Complete But needing completion
Unique I seek the company of others
A part I seek my meaning in the whole
Because of Him I need to be needed
Because I am loved I love.
Made in the image of my father
Human
His word of command Shaping flesh
His loving intention Sculpting the soil of Earth Into life.
His voice causing; calling; claiming me; naming me
Framing my future
Fashioning me
Because of his dreams I have promise
Because of his promise I have dreams
Ushered into extravagant existence;
Tumbling into time
Fumbling
Falling
Free -
I am human
I am dependant
I am able
I am breath-filled
I am made
In the image of my Father
Because he is risen
Spring is possible
In all the cold hard places
Gripped by winter
And freedom jumps the queue
To take fear’s place
as our focus
Because he is risen
Because he is risen
My future is an epic novel
Where once it was a mere short story
My contract on life is renewed
in perpetuity
My options are open-ended
My travel plans are cosmic
Because he is risen
Because he is risen
Healing is on order and assured
And every disability will bow
Before the endless dance of his ability
And my grave too will open
When my life is restored
For this frail and fragile body
Will not be the final word
on my condition
Because he is risen
Because he is risen
Hunger will go begging in the streets
For want of a home
And selfishness will have a shortened shelf-life
And we will throng to the funeral of famine
And dance on the callous grave of war
And poverty will be history
In our history
Because he is risen
And because he is risen
A fire burns in my bones
And my eyes see possibilities
And my heart hears hope
Like a whisper on the wind
And the song that rises in me
Will not be silenced
As life disrupts
This shadowed place of death
Like a butterfly under the skin
And death itself
Runs terrified to hide
Because he is risen
Out of your sweetness
May strength come forth
In weakness
May a brave heart grow
In your dependence
May faith take root
From wide-eyed wonder
May wisdom flow
May the lions you face meet a warrior
May you dance on the high fields of praise
May rejoicing run like a river
Through the valleys of your days
May you stand in your inheritance
And live as a child of the king
May your ears be tuned to angels
In the wind-whispered glory they sing
May you carry a furnace-fire of hope
When the world falls dark around you
May you find in your heart
Forgiveness
When others, unthinking, hurt you
May you know
As deep as DNA
In the bone-marrow depths of your soul
You are known
You are loved
You are valued
Though you fear it, you are never alone
May you walk in the cool of the evening
In the garden your maker has given
May you bring to trembling, fragile earth
The certain touch of heaven
May your eyes never lose the wonder
Of the miracle of your birth
From your heart, come love
From your life, come truth
From your sweetness
May strength come forth
Christmas is waiting to happen.
Outside, a vacant hillside
Lies silent, strangely empty
Of any angel’s choir.
A stable waits
For bookings at the inn to multiply.
Distant Kings study charts
And keep gifts in cold storage,
While shepherds plan their memoirs
In expectancy of unexpected fame
And keep a chapter free
For miracles
A small velvet patch
In the black night sky
Stands ready to hold a new born star,
And oppressed peoples everywhere
Cling wildly to prophecy and song,
And whisper the word: Messiah.
They’ve switched on the lights
In
Counting off the buying days
Like Guardsmen on parade
Shops are stocked and standing by
Revving up the engines
Of their debt-powered swiping machines
And history watchers mark another year
To start the slow count to 3000
But here, an old man lies
In the stairwell where he fell three days ago
And no-one knows.
And here a young girl loiters
In a streetlight’s unholy halo
To sell the only thing she owns
That men will pay for
And here an infant sleeps
On a sack on the hard earth floor
Where even a mother’s hand
Is empty
And there are places where Christmas
Is still waiting
To happen
may this marriage be a milestone
on your shared road to Emmaus:
where two travel,
but three share the ride..
may God himself occupy
the third seat on your tandem:
as back-seat driver;
powerful peddler: trusted guide.
may his love be
the delicate connection,
that stills the world
to hear another's heart.
the stethoscope that shapes
a breath-warmed closeness,
in listening: the perfect
lover’s art.
may each memory you make
point to his presence
a mystery figure
found in every frame.
each joy you share
a sharing of his pleasure;
each name you speak
an echo of his name.
may worship be the well
whose waters heal you,
a thread sewn through
the fabric of each day
his whispered voice join yours
in conversation:
his casting vote
unite you as you pray.
may you pursue the path
your partnership is made for,
the priceless pearl
of finding God’s direction.
Your destinations woven
in one purpose : your destinies
fulfilled in shared intention.
and as you walk together
through cool evenings,
in the garden that his love
will shape and give you,
may you sense a silent presence,
and feel a loving gaze,
and thrill to turn
to find him walking with you.
If you had been the only one:
Yours the only ticket sold;
Your solitary bottom
Spoilt for choice
In an ocean of empty seats.
If you had been
The only one:
He still would have staged
The whole show.
The brooding, hovering chords
Of the overture
Unfolding
For your ears only:
Stars spinning out like Catherine wheels
Across a dark but lightening set,
Until dawn was uncorked
On green home.
Act 1: the building of a nation:
A people wooed and won
And lost
And won again.
For you alone the whole cast
Weaving and turning through dances
To fill a joyous expanse of stage.
Act 2: the cry of a child
In a vastly empty universe;
The adventure of hope and betrayal;
The seat-gripping climate:
Triumph diving, death defying,
Through the fiery hoop of tragedy.
The clamour of the crowd scenes
Building
Toward an unimagined finale –
A cosmos, purged of guilt
Restored,
Dressed for dancing.
If you had been the only one,
Your grimy pounds
The total take:
He still would have staged
The whole show
And wept for joy
At the warmth
of your applause.
I give you the earth
My child, gift of love
Its contoured face carved
By time, and the weather’s knife
Its patchwork of forests
Sewn with the threads of rivers
Its oceans
Of salted life
I give you the rhythms
Of time and tide, and voices
The drum roll of rainfall
When the ground’s tight skin is dry
I give you a choir
Of leaves to sing the wind to you
A palette of sungold
For a canvass-ful of sky
I give you your place
On this planet of wonders
Crown jewel of the heavens
In a Guinness-black dome
I give you the garden
God’s artistry has landscaped
To be your classroom and playground
Your palace
Your home
For joy
I give you laughter
For peace
I give you sleep
For fear and failure
My embrace to call upon
I give you the earth
My child, gift of love
And I give you my prayer
That you live
To pass it on
This God,
Who watches worlds,
Sees my heart.
This careful calculator,
Counting countless millions,
Counts me in.
This artist,
Whose canvas outstretches
Eternity at both ends;
Whose palette out-colours planets,
Paints my portrait.
This lover,
Who dreams in universes,
Dreams of me.
This creator,
Whose breadth of vision spans time
And spawns a cosmos;
Whose woven tapestry of purpose,
More compound than chaos,
Eclipsing complexity,
Rolls out like a highway through history;
Whose heartbeat deafens supernovas:
This father
Kisses me.
This playwright,
Playing
With the deaths and entrances of stars;
Scripting
The end from the beginning;
Knowing
The purpose of the play:
Watches
My feeble audition,
And writes
Me
In.
I love the very thought of Heaven:
Where angels sing
In perfect, perpetual choir practice.
Where Father, Son and Spirit rule
Unchallenged
And are honoured in full measure.
I love the very thought of Heaven:
But I was not made
To live there.
I was not made
To walk on clouds,
And bask eternally
In immaterial splendour.
I was made for this green planet:
This tight ball
Of aching beauty,
Alive with the unending possibilities
Of his creative power.
I was made for the sunshine
That blazes through the veins of a leaf
And glints on the tiny, perfect back
Of a ladybird crossing my arm.
I was made to be human
In this most human of places.
I was made for earth:
The earth is my home.
That’s why I’m glad that God,
More than anyone,
Is a friend of the earth:
Prepared as he was to die
For its release.
And that’s why I’m glad
That the magnificent, jewelled foundations
Of the mighty pearly gates
Will be anchored
Deeply and forever
In the soil of earth.
it was a marvellous healing;
after the months of asking,
of waiting;
after the desperate, slow deterioration,
the warring tides
of faith and doubt:
to be released in an instant,
from every pain.
it was as if the very molecules of his flesh
had been infused, invaded,
with the life of God,
until he was filled, fit to burst,
with the Shalom, the peace,
of the Father's rule.
limbs that had fallen flaccid with weakness
waved and danced with joy;
lungs that had so utterly failed him
sang out with strength and boldness.
he ran
through the unfamiliar sunlight,
drinking it in,
experiencing all at once
the thousand and one feelings
that for so long had been denied him.
it was a marvellous healing:
to be so totally restored,
made whole,
rebuilt.
it had just surprised him,
a little,
that he had had to die
to receive it.
When the night is deep
With the sense of Christmas
and expectancy hangs heavy
On every breath
Behold I stand at the door and knock.
When the floor is knee-deep
In discarded wrapping paper;
And the new books are open at page one;
And the new toys are already broken,
Behold I stand at the door and knock.
When the family is squashed
Elbow to elbow
Around the table,
And the furious rush for food is over
And the only word that can describe the feeling
Is "full",
Behold I stand at the door and knock.
When Christmas is over
And the television is silent