First Breath

The breath of God, that very one that transformed the DNA of clay into life, is not a quantity to behold but an extension of G_d to partake. Because of love – life and liberty was given. Bodies formed from the dry ground drew its first breath of life and liberty and it was good in the eyes of its Giver. The soul, eternal in every one of us, glides into us upon this glorious stream exhaled from Love Itself. Divine omniscience cannot be grasped by our reason yet the heart feels its gentle pull. Our souls are simple lodestones, always pointing towards a better will. G_d’s will is always mindful and ever-present when love becomes our priority. If we can think of the breath within us as wings of a mother hen, then the words of Jesus ignite our silent epiphany when He says, “…how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.” (Matthew 23:37 NIV)
So consider the choices before us today.

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Let us allow love to straighten our path while it gathers us back to the Breath that gave us a choice to give liberty to another.

The Breath He Giveth

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Miracle of miracles,
Clay becomes new life.
Breath of G_d,
Breath of wonder,
Exhaled in Paradise.
Eyes formed from borrowed ground,
Looks heavenward;
Soul of G_d,
Soul to ponder,
Stretching ever upward.
Vanity of vanities,
Vision growing dim,
Love of G_d,
Love of neighbor,
Blinded by selfish sin.
Miracles of Miracles,
A virgin bears G_d’s son,
G_d is born,
G_d is given,
A chance to see has begun.

To where can I run?
This G_d of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob;
This G_d of the living,
This Messiah; thee Anointed One.
To where can I hide?
My soul unravels, ravaged; left undone,
Once blind but now I see,
My Lord and my God – my Holy One.

by Chris Clody
12/14/16

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The Gift

Sunday is comin’…

Sweet Repose

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Your sacrifice is my only treasure,
That clothes me in priestly purple,
The crown You give inflames my endeavor,
Defining life’s endless circle,
By love; Holy and eternal.

O Redeemer, my sweet repose,
Ancient Love, so rich and fertile,
David’s Root blooms through a Mystical Rose,
Whose prickling thorns grow inward and painful,
Cut down for sin – yet still arose,
Fin’lly reaching Heaven for us below.

Sacred seed chooses a holy garden,
Incarnate blossom from a joyful rose,
Resurrection softens clay once hardened,
Fragrant is Your way to sinful pardon.

O Redeemer, my sweet repose,
Ancient Love, so rich and fertile,
David’s Root blooms through a Mystical Rose,
Whose prickling thorns grow inward and painful,
Cut down for sin – yet still arose,
Fin’lly reaching Heaven for us below.

O Spouse of my soul, how sweet is thy kiss,
Whilst begging our forgiveness hanging from your wrists,
Save your servant from the darkened Abyss,
And vouchsafe reunion within Trinity’s bliss.

by Chris Clody 3/15/15