On the way to Jerusalem

A song after Psalm 121 

On my way to Jerusalem,

Jerusalem, Jerusalem,

on my way to Jerusalem,

I will sing my song.

 

I lift my eyes on the way,

I see the hills on the way,

I sing my song on the way,

on the way to Jerusalem.

 

He does not sleep on my way,

he does not slumber on my way,

he does not sleep on my way,

on the way to Jerusalem. 

 

He is the shadow on my right hand,

on the way, on the way;

he is the shadow on my right hand,

on the way to Jerusalem.

 

He watches over me in the day

he watches over me in the night,

he protects me from all evil things,

on the way to Jerusalem. 

 

Photograph by Dariusz Kanclerz via Unsplash used with permission.

Some Friday Readings

 

Astounded and amazed: A sermon on a reading on Mark 1 – Dan King at Bibledude.

 

363 – poem by Petrarch at Kingdom Poets (D.S. Martin). 

 

Is the Book of James Really ‘An Epistle of Straw’? – Michael Kruger at Canon Fodder.

 

Plato’s Big Mistake – Louis Markos at The Imaginative Conservative.

A Sonnet for Candlemas -- Malcolm Guite.

The keeper

After Psalm 121 

When you see the hills,

do not consider the creation

but the creator, the one

who sculpted and shaped

the hills. It is not the creation

that keeps you or protects you;

it is the creator who keeps you,

who protects you, who provides

for you, without ceasing,

without sleeping, without

resting, protecting you against

all evil, keeping your life,

keeping your walk, watching

over your going out, watching

over your going in, always

and forever.

 

Photograph by Markus Spiske via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Some Sunday Readings

 

Apostle! A sonnet for St. Paul – Malcolm Guite.

 

Don’t Forget About Nigerian Christians – Samuel Sey at Slow to Write.

 

Failing to ‘get’ religion helped create schism between readers and newsrooms – Terry Mattingly at Get Religion. 

 

Making the Call to Worship Great Again – Graham Heslop at The Gospel Coalition.

Pilgrimage III

After Isaiah 9:6 and Psalm 121

The journey goes on,

often interminably,

as we toil upward

to the hills.

And as we walk

this road together,

we sing the sing

that’s always new.  

 

My help is from the Lord,

he who does not sleep,

he who holds us in his hand,

he who prevents our slips and falls,

he who protects against 

the dangers of night,

the dangers of day,

he who shields us from evil,

he who protects our lives,

and he did it then,

he does it now, and

he does it forever.

 

Photograph by Iva Rajović via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Pilgrimage II

After Isaiah 9:6 and Psalm 121

A pilgrim’s question:

on my journey up

to the hills, my journey on

this dusty road with its twists

and turns, potholes,

roadblocks, obstructions,

eroding roadbed, cracks

and gaps,

I ask, I am asked,

by myself, 

by my fellow travelers,

what is the source,

the fount, the origin 

of my help? What is 

its birth, its start,

its creation?

My first response,

to myself,

to my fellow travelers,

is to look to the hills,

the hills where

the answer resides,

where the answer

always resides.

 

Photograph by Raimond Klavins via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Pilgrimage I

After Isaiah 9:6 and Psalm 121

When I say I lift

my eyes up

to the hills,

I speak on the road

to the city,

the city on a hill,

the city in these hills,

the home of where

we worship.

I am on the road,

on the pilgrimage,

because the sound 

in my heart requests,

in my heart requires, 

this journey

to the hills. 

When I lift 

my eyes up

to the hills,

I see the source

of what sustains,

of what sustains me.

 

Photograph by Damien DUFOUR Photographie via Unsplash. Used with permission.