Those Kids! (A Palm Sunday reflection)

 

What a procession,
on the road into town!
What a commotion
and laying cloaks down.

Yelling ‘Hosanna’,
‘Blessed is the King’.
Shouting ‘Messiah’,
honouring Him.

Excited disciples
making a scene,
waving their branches,
a carpet of green.

The colt of the donkey
bearing the Lord,
the crowd shouting praises,
it seemed that they roared.

The children were listening.
They joined in the praise,
swept up in the moment
young voices they raise.

Into the temple
the Lord went that day
sweeping traders and money
changers away.

Healing the blind ones,
curing the lame,
watched by the children
praising His name.

‘Hosanna,’ they shouted
‘Son of David,’ they cried,
and the scribes were indignant
the priests said they lied.

The children annoyed them,
their simple refrain
stole all their thunder,
upstaged them again.

‘Do you hear what they’re saying,
these children?’ they said.
Indignant and angry,
they wanted Him dead.

But the children sang praises;
they shouted His name.
They knew He was worthy;
they told forth his fame.

While the priests and the scribes
plotted terrible things,
the children rejoiced for
this day was their King’s!

Re-blogged from 2014

© Copyright Ellen Carr 2014

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At Pentecost

Expectation hovered over them
as they, the believers there,
with their stories to tell,
and their memories to share….

Broke the bread and drank the wine
for a death that didn’t last,
sang the Psalms, spoke his words
from the three years past.

Squashed together in the upper room,
the rough with the refined,
their commonality their faith,
their joy the strongest bind.

A whistling cyclone filled the house
and as light as the touch of grace,
tongues of fire fell on their heads
and languages filled the place.

They spoke in tongues unknown,
of God and his wondrous ways;
the Spirit upon them, they spoke his words,
as prophesied for the last days.

The Church was born in that upper room
that Pentecost Sunday, that day,
Believing, accepting the message they heard
three thousand followed The Way.

Expectation turned to worship,
to boldness and to power,
that flowed out to the nations
from that place, from that hour.

© Copyright Ellen Carr 2017

From you, Mum

Flower vector created by Freepik

How much have I learnt –
how many ingrained truths
well-worn habits
turns of phrase
tricks of trade
lines of humour –
and wisdom
from you, Mum?

How much have I learnt –
how many ways to live
get involved
have a go
reach out
invite in –
and share
from you, Mum?

How much have I learnt –
how many truths of faith
enduring patterns
every-day prayers
reading of the Word
worshipping –
and trust
from you, Mum?

You set my path from childhood
steered me on my way.
And for this I’m thankful
on this new Mother’s Day.

© Copyright Ellen Carr 2017

There is Resurrection (Easter: Part 3)

There is Despair (Easter: Part 2)

There was Darkness (Easter: Part 1)

But Who?

Dazzling beauty greets us

as we lift our gaze

to grandest mountains,

watching soft clouds drift

across a sapphire sky,

as a great hawk soars overhead.

But who is the artist?

 

Symphonic sounds rise together,

piercing the silence

of the morning light,

heralding joyous life,

a bird-song of movement,

and natural melodies.

But who writes the music?

 

Minute creatures crawl the ground,

slither and creep around

on tiny stomachs and legs,

weaving their silken webs,

or trailing silvery lines

in fine precision.

But who is their designer?

 

In intricacy or grandeur,

in whispers, or roaring waves,

the microscopic, the gigantic,

tiny feelers, or highest peaks,

all is in order,

all follows a plan.

There is One who oversees it all.

 

The jigsaw is fitted together,

so nothing is out of its place,

each piece the design of the Maker,

fashioned in detail by His hands

to take its place

in the glorious world,

sustained by His wisdom and care.

 

The mystery of the beginning,

the puzzle of how things will end,

in the hands of the loving Creator,

are ordered, secure and sure,

in His big plan

for all of time.

The puzzle is complete.