From and into clay

So fragile this clay pot,
of our humanity,
chosen to carry,
this gospel’s charity.

Unworthy to possess,
My Lord’s humility,
yet commanded onward,
despite hostility.

It stills me to ponder,
this mission’s clarity,
until faith lets me see,
needful austerity.

Until faith is tested,
we’re walking aimlessly,
squandering God’s love,
outside intimacy.

Born in separation,
and condemned already,
yet grateful that my heart,
craves Jesus recklessly.

Where else can I go?
Where lead with empathy?
Because in learning self,
Shines His Identity.

Lest we’re not created,
Doubt devours certainty,
consumed in wondering,
purpose… incessantly.

Therefore, be of good cheer,
find rest in reality,
know we were made to love,
despite clay’s fragility.

Shine on!
Chris Clody
11/25/20

The Image and the Journey

Imbued long before an infant’s first blink,
Goodness unveils in soft skin and wide eyes,
A blank scroll awaits words pressed into ink,
Entering endless promise and blue skies,
Attuned to a mother’s voice, joy, and surprise.

Irresistible as new fallen snow,
Silence blanketing sounds into stillness,
The story begins with a name bestowed,
That captures both moment and God’s Goodness,
Joyful first words inscribed in sheer ebullience.

Each breath, each season, keeps time and makes way,
Nudging life’s shadow round God’s sundial,
Darkening pages fill with progress and play,
A tale encounters flashes of smiles,
even when tears rain every once in a while,

Although season pass, they yearn in patience,
Until ready to weather replacement,
So too, the Goodness dwelling in nascence,
Slowly withdraws from sight in self-effacement.

A new chapter begins with a slow shift,
Supplanting the age of innocence,
Free will is given a choice to resist,
Walling Goodness within man’s inheritance,
Stone placed upon stone by our concupiscence.

But the first stone was placed by God not man,
Both cornerstone and Image wait within,
Since man cannot fathom what God has planned,
Even if the gates of hell were built-in,
The Image could flee if man repented his sin.

Now well aware of this fork in the road,
Ev’ry second of contemplation slowed,
Knowing the power, the cornerstone holds,
Few men chose rightly and forsaken their souls.

Many have chosen the road that is broad,
Hiding His Image within self-made man,
Sharing their pride for the sake of applause,
Rejecting God’s vision for their lifespan,
Unable to enter the Kingdom at hand.

Despite God’s rejection, He perseveres,
Expressly those in most need of Mercy,
His Spirit walks beside this mutineer,
Pursuing the blind refusing to see,
Resurrection is a possibility.

For the few that choose the road less travelled,
Accepting the cross that was given them,
Whose cornerstone wrecked their inner castle,
Abiding in Christ, enduring mayhem,
A crown awaits those who fail to succumb.

Joyful are those whose faith survive this fire,
Especially the courageous martyrs,
Grateful in prayer before they expire,
Becoming blood for soil; a gift of myrrh.

For those who forsake Satan’s temptations,
Who see light within in a foe’s castle,
The Kingdom welcomes this child’s devotion.

Our faith dares to seek God through His Image,
To heed this command is not for the timid.

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”(Matthew 22:37-40 NIV)

by Chris Clody
11/23/20

Black was the dawn

Black was the dawn,
of our betrayal,
children banished,
Cain kills Able.
Sin’s dark legacy,
grows and continues…
wars lay wastw hope,
cutting bone from sinews.
Hardened hearts nurture,
endless pride and lust,
wrath opens the earth,
swallowing gold’s distrust.
Tablets lay shattered,
strewn upon the ground,
soon prophets foresee,
crucifixions’s crown.

Black was the dawn,
betrayed and kissed,
flesh striped by scourging,
lacerated by spit.
A lamb finds slaughter,
awaiting a cross,
love refines sacrifice,
from our dross.
Blinded by bloodthirst,
to Heaven’s facade,
His head falling slump,
their crooked smiles nod.
“And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how He died, he said,
Surely this was the Son of God.” (Mark 15:39)

by Chris Clody
11/14/20

The Light of Truth

Truth refracts into Light,
A pure glint born from His eternal star,
Awakening the slumbering,
Piercing horizons from afar.

Each day is reborn anew,
Discerning shadow remnants of the night,
Rising dawn unviels in splendor,
Everything hidden in plain sight.

Drawn in by awe and wonder,
Perplexed. Squinting away slog of night,
The mind races to catch what the heart beholds,
Captured by His gaze of liberating light.

Majestic dawn pulls the curious,
Warming face-to-face shining bright,
As morning grows more vibrant,
Clouds blush red, to purple, then snow-white.

Humanity is but a prism,
Fracturing glimmers into colors of Truth,
Only humility gathers this spectrum’s bouquet,
Sharing its flowers in childlike youth.

Such is the charity of God,
Such is the Light of Truth.

by Chris Clody
9/20/20

Demands of Authentic Love

Endure these commands of my authentic love,
Detach from delusions of tranquility,
Gospel persecution awaits like fist to glove,
Oppressing hearts in love of my charity,
Yes… this world hates you because it hated me first,
The servant is no greater than his master’s thirst.

These things done to you on account of my name,
Fearlessly enter the slaughter uncoerced,
Be brave in the one who sent me in his claim,
Do not be afraid of those who kill the body,
But the one who kills your soul eternally.

For all souls the Father gives me I will keep,
Each will be raised into my eternity,
Where I’ll wipe away every tear you now weep.

Abide in my love and entrust your life to me,
For all who’ll enter Heaven does so through me.

by Chris Clody
5/16/20

Agony and Ecstasy

 

The Agony,
the Ecstasy,
Sorrow’s weight,
my sweat bleeds.
This weight of sin,
only I can see,

ABBA’s cup,
just for me.
Perfect Will,
filling me,
as I drink,
His dregs of mercy.

Tearing flesh,
Blood…Body…
Thorns now pierce,
crowning me.
Screams for blood,
are surrounding me.

Rough-Heavy.
Wood for me,
I stumble,
to carry,
Just to fall,
Drained of energy.

The Agony!
The ecstasy!
Forgive them,
ABBA please!
Take this life,
You willed for me.
My sacrifice
Your Love in Mercy.

Heaven’s Artist

Forgiveness is alive!
Heaven is real,
existing beyond time,
dancing bodies now healed,
smiling souls sing harmonies,
in joy to the Truth revealed.

The Artist paints living colors,
Cardinals fly from canvases,
swooping to earth with hope,
inviting awaking eyes to see,
grief through faith’s Church,
captured in nets from forgiving seas.

Butterflies of every color,
flutter from tips of a brush,
dance with joy among petals,
flowers burst within strokes of sun,
blooming in artistic delight,
paperwings hop upon nectar’s fun,
heavy eyes marvel at this playful sight.

There…
Trinity at play before the hopeful,
wooing her children to Mercy’s womb,
always beside them to reach beyond,
beyond birds, butterflies, and tombs,
to be released from the net into Heaven’s pond.

Truly, truly forgiveness is Life!

His Peace,

Chris

Call Me Cain

Good Friday. How appropriate?  The following poem was inspired by a Bishop Fulton J. Sheen (Faith,Hope, and Love with Fulton J. Sheen Season 1, Ep 2, Love is Hope).

cain_and_abel

Who am I

Who am I?
A descendant,
A wanderer,
Born of pessimism,
From an unfaithful race of Cains.

I am sealed by a mark,
even the Seven Seas cannot wash away.
This incarnate blood of my just brother,
Now becomes my hope.

Hope, not optimism,
Or brokenness from our crushing reality.

Hope is a covenant of Mercy,
An enslavement, a property,
A refuge from the vengeance of men.
Hope, is the burning crimson that stains me,
And warns all who seek wrath,
Belongs to the One who marked me.

What judge?
What authority, principalities, powers
can convict me?
If the One whom I killed,
Is now alive,
then I must be set free!
Has He not been seen walking,
Upon the wings of the morning?
An lo, He has not left me orphaned,
To be convicted by the lords of this age,
For He stands before you now!
Truly Truth sets me free!

Who am I?
I am not my own,
But touched by the very finger,
that etched law into stones,
and love upon my heart.
I am another Cain,
Justly convicted,
and now believe,
I live by the One I slayed.

…but call me Christian.

By Chris Clody
8/23/2019

House Of God

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Sing to The House of God

Everlasting are You Lord Almighty,
Uncreated and undefined,
Lowly are we Your still waters,
Jesus, Our Savior, turn us into wine.

Father of Forgiveness, Mercy, and Peace,
Giver of faith and Son you sent,
Shining Your Star upon the birth of Truth,
Alighting on lost souls in New Advent.

Good Shepherd, Deliverer, Firstborn Son,
Light of all! Son of the Most High!
Radiate Your radical love through us,
Present us clean before the Father’s Eyes.

Holy Spirit, Breath of The Almighty,
Spirit of the fear of the Lord,
Everlasting Kiss and comfort to our souls,
Unite Our Christ to the Father’s restore.

O Faith! O Hope! O Sweet Charity!
Become our clarion call,
Lift all eyes to your glorious kingdom,
Jesus, you’re our everything! Our all in all!

By Chris Clody
1/16/19

Communion’s Mystery

You were raised on the cross,
A Lamb led to slaughter,
Sacrificing to fill mankind’s loss,
A Son’s obedience to His Father.

Gone now are the days of sacrifice,
Undone is the curse of the Law,
Satisfied is God’s vision of glory,
That crushed the grip of Death’s claw.

Holy is the seed You plant in us,
That must die in hallowed ground,
Trampled beneath the feet of rejection,
That plows the new wheat’s burial ground.

Long the wheat suffers within the weeds,
Waiting and watching for harvest,
Flush golden fields reflecting the sun,
Eager to rise above chaff’s darkness.

You reap sown in fruits of Your mercy,
Crushed into the bread of Your charity,
Crumbs of hope plant seeds of faith,
Reborn anew into Communion’s mystery.

by Chris Clody
10/19/2018