Nothing Ever Dies.

sunrise

Nothing ever truly dies…ever.
Eventually, our earth suits fail. Reality’s lottery that cuts short time together with loved ones is devastating. For the eyes dim to what awaits beyond the precipice of our mortality gains my greatest of sorrows. Even in the waning moments before the heart fails, the shadow of grief gleans a silver-lining to see past unbelief, knowledge, and distractions. The veil thins as our breathing becomes shallow and labored allowing a new transparency to an unknown hope.
One must wonder while simultaneously galled at the factors that keep hope away from a precious life.  If nothing ever dies and Christ freely offers Himself as ‘life itself’, then what part of Pascal’s gamble (at the least) keeps His light from drawing the curious mind like a moth to a light? Jesus allowed the Gospel free reign to spread to the four corners of the world. Surely He knew that the recipients of this ‘Good News’ would domesticate what should be wild for the sake of building an empire. However, all empires are built upon sifting sand. Only Kingdoms are built upon solid rock. Despite the unsavory history of dolling out salvation, the Savior sent His Spirit to continue what Jesus began allowing hope to transcend what was never meant to be imprisoned.
Nothing, especially hope, ever dies. Nevertheless, the patience exhibited by the Creator to spoon-feed His joy endures even now. Watching His baby grow into the awareness of His love, regardless of wobbly first steps, falls, and tantrums. Yet Torah found some rich soil to dive deep down and drink and feed a healthy shoot. The discussions allowed plenty of shade for the best attempts to define the ever-present light that warmed the outside of their broadening leaves. When time came for sending an obedient and compassionate Messiah, He sent His only Son, Jesus. Obedient even unto death to fulfill the immeasurable concept of a Creator’s love.
Thankfully, power, hatred, ignorance, and inequality do die. Mortality makes short work of any man who is convinced he is more than what he was meant to be. Mortality quiets every rogue and savage heart to frightened children shivering in the dark. The dark they face is their greatest regret when eternity makes them aware of the True Light that could warm their goosebumps into a soft, golden glow while chasing away the cold and damp darkness stiffening their joints. Eternity offers no escape for the prideful to review their tragic missteps along a path seen through humble and hopeful eyes.
The food, the Bread of God, is an irresistible will we are given to digest. With the hope of Christ aflame within, the sorrow, the mourning, the oppressed, and marginalized is transformed within the white-hot, crucible of True Love. The dross rises, leaving behind what is amazing and beautiful. This freedom cannot die for it is fearless. The spoon-feeding through the power of man, reduces a chance to savor the viaticum. Instead, stagnant traditions are ritualized, as if frozen in fear unwilling to release the string holding a kite from rising. Hesitant pastors offer milk to a babe instead of meat for discipleship. Nevertheless, the Creator loves and pours mercy, the very gift of a Father’s soul, to especially those who need it most. Some crawl and never learn to walk. Some begin to walk and never run. Some simply fly. Each servant is offered equality of God’s treasury. Love will draw even the slowest movements towards hope with abundant reward.
You see we cannot truly die because God’s love holds us all.
Move towards what cannot be resisted.
Christ, by our light.

Vigil of Hope

For now, Saturday, the flickering candle is our timepiece.  Today we see and hear nothing but the silence intended for the prayerful. From 3 pm yesterday till now, the word ‘forsaken’ has gathered great momentum and space within our minds.  We are left bracing ourselves unaware tomorrow trades joy for our ashes.  Emmanuel!

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Son of Man

Crowned and striped,
For all to see,
Son of God,
Nailed to a tree,
Sweet Jesus have mercy on me.

A new wine,
Pours from His wounds,
Giving His all,
Embracing doom,
His last exhale becomes perfume.

He’s Taken down,
His body wrapped,
Our God is dead,
Becomes a fact.
Sweet Jesus dies for what I lack.

Wait! Something new,
A barren tomb,
He has risen!
Returning soon,
Seen as Conqueror or Bridegroom.

Friend and brother,
Prophet, Priest, and King,
Mediator,
Heir of all things,
Emmanuel!
Deliverer,
The Word of God,
The Good Shepherd.
Light of the World,
The Prince of Peace,
Help me forgive,
Those I love the least.
Sweet Jesus, have mercy on me!

By Chris Clody
4/15/17

Listen Up…

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Listen To My Son

Listen to My Son,
In Him I Am well pleased,
He is My Word made flesh,
Whose whisper calms the sea,
Whose name when mentioned heals,
and from which Satan flees.
My glory shines within his eyes,
Casting angels to their knees.
He is The Resurrection,
A Saving Prince of Peace,
He is your Good Shepherd,
Sacrificed for his sheep,
He is The Bread of God,
You must eat to increase,
He is Aleph v’Tav,
Who makes the unborn leap,
Your Prophet, Priest, and King,
For whom all sinners weep.
The firstborn of the dead,
Returning as a thief,
Be watchful and listen,
And pray before you sleep.

Listen to My Son,
In Him I AM well pleased.

By Chris Clody
4/1/17

Moses Redux… Sunday’s Comin’

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A New Moses

A New Moses splits Jordan’s smooth surface,
Fulfillment through the first-borne has begun,
Illumined Dove descends like dewfall’s kiss,
Time for Messiah has finally come,
Agape’s gaze follows His Only Son.

A light the darkness cannot understand,
Yet for the heart there is nowhere to run,
Boats and nets abandoned for this God-man,
Anxiously seeking this Kingdom at hand.

Jerusalem welcomes this Man of Sorrows,
Shouts of praise amid palm-blanketed sands,
Still death’s dark clouds await His tomorrow.

Nevertheless, death is overwhelmed through love,
True Life, resurrection, rises with the Illumined Dove.

By Chris Clody
3/28/2017

Song for a brave little man

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Jackie boy Blue
In the loving and living legacy of
Jackson Fineske

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue
Where did you go,
You’re so far away
But I still feel ya too
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue

Blue jays visits my window,
Each morn’in at nine,
He pecks the seeds,
As He looks in my eyes,
I smile and wonder,
When I last sat by your side,
Praying for miracles,
Yet whisp’ring goodbye,
Whisp’ring goodbye.

We heard you talking to Mary,
Our Mother of God,
She was holding you then,
As she’s holding you now,
Your Mama’s holdin you now.

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue,
Where did you go,
You’re so far away,
But I still feel ya too,
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue.

New drugs, procedures, cards, and toys,
Offering your life,
And hope for the next girl or boy,
Known as “Boss”- one tough little man!
Nurses named Mary,
God was watchin and He had plan,
God always has a plan…

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue,
Where did you go,
You’re so far away,
But I still feel ya too,
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue.

All through your pain,
You’d quietly smile,
You said, “Trust in Jesus
And never once complained,
You never once complained.

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue,
Where did you go,
You’re so far away,
But I still feel ya too-
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue.

By Chris Clody
3/16/17

Tears of a King

My morning prayer was consumed within Gethsemane, that dark grotto in the garden where Jesus prayed. His submission to His Father’s will was noted in an extraordinary way. Let’s dare to intrude on Jesus kneeling in the shadows knowing His “soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” wringing with sweat, rupturing the tiniest of blood vessels, “and being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground” (Luke 22:44).
Any wonder why we couldn’t keep our eyes open to keep watch, joining Him is supportive prayer while we were outside the garden?
Like in the desert, Jesus, that very real and very human, once again confronts the will of His Father, accepts it, is ministered to by an angel, and presses on.
If you’re wondering about the possibility of Hematidrosis and “sweating blood” know that it happens only under extreme anguish. I believe there is even more symbolism regarding sweat tinged with blood outside of the obvious foreshadowing of His passion. His sweat would be a purplish color; that of a king. Like Mother like Son, Jesus held all these things to Himself – even to the point of death. Is this part of our cross? To bear the weight of anguish for others? If we are to be saved as a community within some bride-like concept, shouldn’t we learn to at least suffer alongside those society loves the least?
In the end, judgment will not fall upon our ability to proclaim His Name or even perform miracles, but rather by the compassionate deeds that illumined the hidden Christ within the thirsty, the hungry, the naked, the poor, the sick, and the imprisoned. Yes, in the end, Jesus will know us by the tears we’ve tasted.

Jesus-Anguish

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Tears of a King,
Drop alone within the silence,
Magenta trails,
Etch hallowed cheeks from my offense.

Not mine but Thine,
Whispers the Man of our Sorrows,
Thy Kingdom come,
After death, scourging, and cock crows.

Accomplished,
A Father’s will redeems mankind,
For those who taste,
The tears He shed and left behind.

By Chris Clody
3/8/17

Beyond Ashes

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In Ashes

What sustains the flame,
While I sit in my ashes,
Tempered by my shame,
With tear-burdened eyelashes,
Like ripe fruit bending branches.

Blest fruit of her womb,
Chosen olive God crushes,
Atonement’s perfume,
Man’s oil of ever gladness.

Seen through blurry tears,
Radiant hope in the blackness,
A death promised without fear!

I will rise in Him from these ashes,
Because when He speaks I hear,
Fasting while selfishness passes,
‘Til in the hungry Christ appears,
Becoming one with others and my ashes.

By Chris Clody
3/3/17