Holy Week

i have some non poetry reflections to share. i wrote this on Palm Sunday.

"Our King came gentle and riding on a donkey. There was no royal carpet but rather the worn cloaks of common folk. There were no banners claiming the power of his kingdom but rather branches of palm trees. There were no impressive legions of soldiers with armor but rather a band of simple disciples. There was no siege laid on the city but rather a driving out of corrupt religious leaders. A few days later our King's coronation came with a crown of thorns rather than a crown of wreath or gold. His inauguration was a lonely, brutal, torturous death on a cross. This was our King's way.

How is it that we have strayed so far from his way? He came gentle riding on a donkey but so often we come with force riding a war horse. In the prophesy of Zechariah there is no doubt that peace is the way of our King. 'I will take away the chariots of Ephraim and the war-horses from Jerusalem and the battle bow will be broken. He will proclaim peace to the nations. His rule [kingdom] will extend from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.'
We must recover the way of our King and of his Kingdom. Our allegiance cannot be split between him and anything else. Our lives are to be mirror images of his life. In an era of increasing violence, war, greed and corruption we have to choose to follow in the path of our King. The time has come for the turning over of our violent, forceful, proud, and greedy ways. The time has come to joyfully declare who are King is and all the miracles he has done. Hosanna! Save us, Lord! Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord!"


a poem i will be performing tomorrow night at our Good Friday service, disgrace.

Lamb and Lion
by poetree

Behold a lamb who was slain
the souls of humanity to gain
Standing triumphantly as a lion with golden mane
It seems so insanse
But the truth is quite plain
Through him mercy falls like rain
washing Abel's blood spilled by Cain.
Freed from Egypt in the desert to train
to keep the love of God as main thain (thing)
Throughout history we strain
with our collective brain
trying so hard to explain
but only he can wash every stain
For unless it dies a grain
cannot be raised again to reign.