Risen

This year, as we remember the resurrection of Jesus Christ which is the heart of Christianity, I thought it would be a good time to post this poem. It was written last fall and attempts to capture the missional nature of his life, death, and resurrection.

Photo by Scott Rodgerson
on Unsplash

                                   Risen
God came to earth,

As a human,

Living in the dust, pain, heat, stench

Of a fallen world.

He understands us, our inhuman condition, well.

Spurning the spotlight

Yet bringing glimpses of heaven, miraculous moments

Where long marred image of God in us

Shone through clearly in Christ

          Healing, delivering, teaching, feeding, confronting,

Heart of the Father revealed.

Such revealing light was too much for those with much to hide

Dark-worshipers conspired to have the innocent die.

As Jesus the Second Adam bled into the reddening soil

Asking forgiveness from the Father for us

Commending his Spirit back it was done.

Garden Tomb, Jerusalem

Wrapped, laid in the dark on the stone

Until the third day.

God breathed life back into a dying race.

Jesus, having carried all our iniquity to its end

Rose again and shared his resurrection breath

The wind of heaven, his very self, that we might be

A new creation sent forth with purpose.

Photo by Mae Mu on Unsplash

Kingdom leaven might permeate every tongue, tribe, territory

That, like the heavenly bread come down, it all might be risen.

No longer bent by curse, or by cross,

We are sabbath straightened

To see the grandeur of his completed mission.

              © Greg K. Dueker

Oppressor

A few years ago, I wrote a poem that talks about what the devil, the enemy of our soul, works to produce in us (see John 10:10)... I called it "Oppressor." Recently, I started rereading, and discussing, C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters with my adult daughter and was reminded of this poem. Jesus Christ came that we might have life, a type of life that is poisonous to the oppressor!

As we think about the events of what Christians call Holy Week, Jesus' words about his body and his blood demonstrated in his acts of service and represented in the last supper (Holy Communion) prompt me to share this poem here.

                                Oppressor
       An oppressor comes to steal, kill, and destroy.

 Always taking, breaking,

      Always twisting, taunting,

            Always feeding off of the multi-layered hurts inflicted:

                Physical—pain, bruising, scars, disability;

                Emotional—acids of discouragement, anger, fear, grief, hate;

                Social—isolation, prejudice, betrayal; and

                Spiritual—despair, disbelief. 

And when he has consumed all that he can, he leaves us numb,

Drones, to mindlessly, heartlessly

Work for him until we die.

Zombies, walking dead already,

In our pain and hunger, we deliver him his next meal.

Until Life came giving and died, 

To be our next meal.

Forever turning the oppressor's stomach.

© Greg K. Dueker