I am a steward

After Ephesians 3:1-13

I am a steward, 

a minister entrusted

with a gift, chosen

to bring the gift,

to bring the light,

to those previously

cut off, walled off.

I am a minister,

not through education

or training or merit

of my own, but only

through the gift

of grace given me.

The task set before me:

to preach those those

previously unreachable,

to bring the gift

into the light for all.

And if I suffer,

it is by grace.

And if I suffer,

do not lose heart.

And if I suffer,

rejoice in the gift

that is yours.

Photograph by Markus Spiske via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Presence

After Romans 1:18-32

The presence is there;

it’s always been, designed

into the lines of creation,

creation in all its majesty,

its beauty, its power,

its structure, its consistency,

and fitting together. It is 

not hidden; it exists 

in plain sight, no special

glasses needed, no attendant

required to pull back

the veil, no spitlight necessary.

The consequence, the result,

is no one can claim

it wasn’t there,

it was hidden, or

they just missed it.

No excuses, not

this time, not

now.

Photograph by Ravi Pinnisetti via Unsplash. Used with permission.

The guard speaks

After Philippians 1:12-18

You call this a gospel,

good news, do you?

You say you find peace

even here, do you?

I’m not the one 

In the cell and even

I find this place a pit,

a dread, I would rather

be anywhere but here,

even fighting barbarians

in those forests forsaken

by the gods. And yet

you say you find

contentment here, that

your soul, your spirit,

your mind is at peace.

So, tell me more, prisoner,

tell me how you find

contentment in this place,

how you find peace

in this earthly hell. 

Photograph by Carlos Rabada via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Zechariah: From Priest to Speechless to Prophet

The account of the nativity in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 1:5-25, 57-80) begins with the story of Zechariah, a priest and therefore a Levite. His division of priests was on duty, and he was chosen by lot to serve as the incense burner – the priest who went into the temple to burn incense to the Lord.

This is what we know about him: he was elderly; his wife Elizabeth had not been able to bear children; he and his wife were “upright in the Lord” – they observed all of the Lord’s commandments and regulations “blamelessly.” They lived in the hill country of Judea, but he would occasionally have duties at the temple in Jerusalem. Sometime priests like him would be chosen for burning incense. And so he’s chosen and his does his job.

As the incense burns, and the aroma fills the place, and as the smoke rises, Zechariah sees a figure standing to the right of the altar, and it scares him to death. No one else was supposed to be there; no one else could have entered except through the front door. The account says it was an angel of the Lord, but Zechariah was likely so scared witless he didn’t know what he was seeing until the angel spoke.

At first the angel doesn’t identify himself. He simply tells Zechariah not to be afraid, and that his prayers have been answered. Elizabeth will bear him a son, whom will be named John. The child will be joy, and the child will be set aside for God’s work. No alcohol will touch his lips, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit from birth. And he will do great things for God and his people.

We then get another glimpse into Zechariah. He asks the question that most if not all of us would ask. You have to be kidding, right? I’m old. My wife is old. How can I be sure of this? He doesn’t say it this way, but it sounds as if skeptical Zechariah is asking for a sign. (One’s reminded of Sarai in the Old Testament laughing when the strangers tell her husband Abram that she will bear him a son.)

Then the angel’s tone changes. He tells Zechariah his name – Gabriel (he will be the same angel to tell Mary that she will bear the Messiah). And because Zechariah did not at first accept what Gabriel was telling him, he will give him a sign of sorts – Zechariah won’t be able to speak until his son is born.

When he returns home, he communicates with Elizabeth, likely by writing. And she accepts the message immediately. If anyone had a reason to be skeptical, it was Elizabeth. But she accepts it for the blessing that it is. Nine months later, she gives birth to a son.

Eight days after his birth, they bring him for circumcision and to receive his name. The expectation is that he will be named after his father. No, says Elizabeth, he will be named John. They turn to Zechariah, and he writes the name “John.” Immediately he can speak again, and the first thing he utters is a prophecy.

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
    for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us
    in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
that we should be saved from our enemies
    and from the hand of all who hate us;
to show the mercy promised to our fathers
    and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us
    that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
    might serve him without fear,
    in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
    in the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

(English Standard Version)

We don’t know if Zechariah lived to see his son become John the Baptist. But it was enough for him to know and to speak what his son would do.

Related:

Pastor Brian Schulenberg has a one-act, one-actor play, I’m Speechless: Zechariah’s Story, that tells the story of the account in the gospel in simple, easy-to-understand language.

“Gospel Poetry” by Ciaran Thompson

The gospel, in its most simple form, is about death – the death of one man for all humanity. It is also about life – the resurrected life of one man for the eternal life of all humanity. With the theme of death so critical in the story of the gospel, it is not surprising to find a volume of poetry entitled Gospel Poetry that is so much about death.

Poet Ciaran Thompson has done something unusual in poetry, and unusual even in spiritual and Christian poetry. He has included an extended commentary on each poem in the collection. And the collection is comprised of only 14 poems, poems which, he says, he hopes people will find to be encouraging in a time of terrorism, war, and rumors of war.

The subjects of the poems include the creation and the fall; Shakespeare (both the writer himself and Richard III); the Great Fire of London of 1666; a tribute to Queen Elizabeth II written from a time after her death; the equality of death; capitalism (entitled “The Mercantile Locomotive”); a letter to death from a bereaved survivor and a response from Death; betrayal; the power of life over death; and this poem, written about the Battle of the Somme in 1916 during World War I, the battle which began in June of that year and lasted until November.

A Great Silence

A great silence spoke before dawn,

of taunting terror in everyman

as our spears and guns were drawn.

Nervous whispers to each one warns.

Trench ladders clenched with one hand:

a great silence spoke at the dawn.

Then rising up and blazing forth:

colossal flames upon the land,

as our spears and guns were drawn.

The first to fight were doomed to fall.

My voiceless friends strewn ‘cross the span.

A great silence spoke after dawn.

Then, the roll of gunfire’s call

thundered much more than I could stand.

My spear and gun withdrawn.

I look down from rest upon that war,

once fought on lands where poppies adorn.

They silent’ speak of blood each dawn,

where knives and guns we all once drawn.

A scene from the Battle of the Somme, 1916

Of particular note in this poem is the use of repetitive lines and phrases (for what, after all, is war but a seemingly endless series of repetitions?) and the perspective of the soldier who is speaking – it is from the perspective of being in heaven, looking down “from rest upon that war.”

The commentaries on the poems are filled with references to William Wordsworth, Carl Sagan, Samuel Pepys, books in the Bible, St. Paul, and much more. In a sense, these are more than commentaries -- they allow the poet to break free of poetic form and expand (and expound upon) the subject and its implications.

Thompson is the author of The Holy Spirit (2016) but there is precious little additional information available on the poet. (There is a Ciaran Thompson who is an art director on the Doctor Who television series and one who is a player for the Donegal football team in Ireland, but neither appears to be the poet of this volume.)

The poems of Gospel Poetry prompt thinking about the subject that we all have to face but would usually prefer not – the subject of death. But it is thinking about death with hope and not despair, death with expectation and not fear.

Top photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.