This deviates from the historic liturgies from which I have drawn my advent prayers this season, but it is one that is dear to my heart because of my vocation and its historical value:
Give us, O God, the vision which can see Your love in the world
in spite of human failure.
Give us the faith to trust Your goodness
. . .
ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to . . .
I just want to pick up my pen and write,
Not to take notes, doodle, or draw;
Not to write an earth-shattering tome or speech to change the world;
Not to parse verbs, diagram sentences, or translate Greek.
I just want to write...
To feel the weight of the pen in my hand,
To see the ink flow from nib to paper, . . .
This morning on the way to work I was listening to James Taylor at Christmas and was taken aback by the words to a song I have heard countless times but never really listened to. While song lyrics aren't often read as poetry (at least by the masses), these lyrics are indeed poetry in the truest sense:
Some children see . . .
In Cost of Discipleship, while moving from his exposition of Matthew 5 to Matthew 6, Bonhoeffer raises an interesting paradox that our devotional or homiletical reading of Scripture in little chunks often overlooks. In chapter five, Jesus goes on and on about the visible nature of the Christian life:
Let your light shine . . .
you sent John the Baptist
to prepare the way for the coming of your Son.
Grant us the wisdom to hear your will,
that we too may prepare the way for Christ
who is coming in power and glory
to establish his kingdom of peace and justice;
through Jesus Christ our Judge and our Redeemer,
who lives . . .
In the midst of Advent with Christmas quickly approaching, my thoughts (even in poetry) are turning to the Nativity. Perhaps one of the best poetic descriptions of the blessed event, in the English language anyway, came from the pen of John Donne. He was not only a great English poet but also an Anglican priest who wrote his Holy Sonnets in . . .