One Solitary Life

James Allan Francis

Here is a man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another village. He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty. Then for three years He was an itinerant preacher.

He never owned a home. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family. He never went to college. He never put His foot inside a big city. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place He was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but Himself…

While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves. While He was dying His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth – His coat. When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen long centuries have come and gone, and today He is a centerpiece of the human race and leader of the column of progress.

I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that were ever built; all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life.

Pray: Jonah 2 (from inside the Great Fish)

I called out to You,
out of my deep distress,
and You answered me.
 
From the grave,
from deep darkness,
I cried, and You heard my voice.
 
You threw me into the deep,
You cast me into
the heart of the sea,
where the torrent surrounded me,
where Your surf,
Your waves,
crashed over me.
 
Then, I said, “I am lost,
out of even the sight
and presence of God.
I am truly alone.”
 
The waters closed in over me.
The deep encompassed me.
Weeds wrapped around my head.
At the base of the mountains,
I fell into the deep where the darkness closed upon me.
I surrendered. Gone forever.
 
Yet, You pulled me
up from the Pit.
My Lord! My God!
As my life faded, vanished,
I remembered You!
My prayer came to You!
My voice entered into
Your holy presence,
where You heard me!
 
Salvation and deliverance
I am Yours.
This day, this moment, this instant
are all Yours.
 
Amen. 

The Second Coming

William Butler Yeats
 
Turning and turning in the widening gyre   
The falcon cannot hear the falconer; 
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; 
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, 
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
The ceremony of innocence is drowned; 
The best lack all conviction, while the worst   
Are full of passionate intensity. 

Surely some revelation is at hand; 
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi 
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   
The darkness drops again; but now I know   
That twenty centuries of stony sleep 
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?  

Pray: God, Be

God,
 
be in my head
and in my understanding,
 
be in my eyes
and in my looking,
 
in my mouth
and in my speaking,
 
in my mind
and in my thinking,
 
at my end
and at my departing.

Eli, Eli

Judith Wright
 

To see them go by drowning in the river –
soldiers and elders drowning in the river,
the pitiful women drowning in the river,
the children’s faces staring from the river –
that was his cross, and not the cross they gave him.

To hold the invisible wand, and not to save them –
to know them turned to death, and not to save them;
only to cry to them and not to save them
knowing that no one but themselves could save them –
this was the wound, more than the wound they dealt him.

To hold out love and know they would not take it,
to hold out faith and know they dared not take it –
the invisible wand, and none would see or take it –
all he could give, and there was none to take it –
thus they betrayed him not with the tongue’s betrayal.

He watched, and they were drowning in the river;
faces like sodden flowers in the river
faces of children moving in the river;
and all the while he knew there was no river.

Pray: Immortal, Invisible, God only Wise

Walter Smith, 1876

Immortal
Invisible
God only wise
 
In light
Inaccessible
Hid from my eyes
 
Most blessed
Most glorious
Ancient of Days
 
Almighty
Victorious
 
Your great name
I praise.

Judas

Vassar Miller
 
Always I lay upon the brink of love,
Impotent, waiting till the waters stirred,
And no on healed my weakness with a word;
For no one healed me who lacked words to prove
My heart, which, when the kiss of Mary wove
His shroud, my tongueless anguish spurred
To cool dissent, and which, each time I heard
John whisper to Him, moaned, but could not move.

While Peter deeply drowsed within love’s deep
I cramped upon its margin, glad to share
The sop Christ gave me, yet its bitter bite
Dried up my ducts. Praise Peter, who could weep
His sin away, but never see me where
I hang, huge teardrop on the cheek of night. 

Pray: Nearer My God to Thee

Sarah F. Adams 1805-1848
 
Nearer
my God
to Thee.
 
Nearer
my God.
to Thee.
 
Even though
it be a cross
that raiseth me,
 
Nearer
my God
to Thee.

Simon The Cyrenian Speaks

Countee Cullen

He never spoke a word to me,
And yet He called my name;
He never gave a sign to me,
And yet I knew and came. 
At first I said, “I will not bear
His cross upon my back;
He only seeks to place it there
Because my skin is black.”

But He was dying for a dream,
And He was very meek,
And in His eyes there shone a gleam
Men journey far to seek.

It was Himself my pity bought;
I did for Christ alone
What all of Rome could not have wrought
With bruise of lash or stone. 

Pray: Psalm 8

When I look at the stars,
the skies,
the heavens…
 
I think, “Who am I?”
 
Who am I that You
 
Creator of the ends of the universe
 
Notice me?
 
Think of me?
 
Care about me?
 
Who am I?
 
I am Yours.
Yours.
Yours.
 
Thank You…
Thank You…
Thank You…
For caring about me.

One Crown That No One Seeks

Emily Dickinson
 
One crown that no one seeks
And yet the highest head
Its isolation coveted
Its stigma deified

While Pontius Pilate lives
In whatsoever hell
That coronation pierces him
He recollects it well.  

Pray: Show Me

Show me,
Gracious Lord,
     the peace I should seek,
     the peace I can keep,
     the peace I must forgo,
     and the peace I must give,
For Your kingdom’s sake.

Magdalene

As soon as night descends, we meet. 
Remorse my memories releases. 
The demons of the past compete, 
And draw and tear my heart to pieces, 
Sin, vice and madness and deceit, 
When I was slave of men’s caprices 
And when my dwelling was the street. 

The deathly silence is not far; 
A few more moments only matter, 
Which the Inevitable bar. 
But at the edge, before they scatter, 
In front of Thee my life I shatter, 
As though an alabaster jar. 

O what might not have been my fate 
By now, my Teacher and my Saviour, 
Did not eternity await 
Me at the table, as a late 
New victim of my past behaviour! 

But what can sin now mean to me, 
And death, and hell, and sulphur burning, 
When, like a graft onto a tree, 
I have-for everyone to see- 
Grown into being part of Thee 
In my immeasurable yearning? 

When pressed against my knees I place 
Thy precious feet, and weep, despairing, 
Perhaps I’m learning to embrace 
The cross’s rough four-sided face; 
And, fainting, all my being sways 
Towards Thee, Thy burial preparing.Rumi
 
Today, like every other day,
we wake up empty and frightened.
Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading.
Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. 

Pray: Savior, In This Quiet Place

Fred Pratt Green 1974
 
O Savior
in this quiet place
where anyone may kneel
I also come
to ask for grace
believing You can heal.

I called through your door

Rumi
 
I called through your door,
“The prayerful ones
are gathering in the street.
Something huge is
happening.
Come out!”
 
You called back,
“Leave me alone.
I’m ill.”
 
I yell in return,
“I don’t care if you’re dead!
Come out!
Jesus is here.
And he wants
to resurrect somebody!” 

Pray: How Great Thou Art

Carl Gustav Boberg 1885
English Version Stuart K. Hine 1953
 
O Lord my God
when I
in awesome wonder
consider
all the works
Thy hands have made
 
I see
the stars
I hear
the rolling  thunder
Your power throughout
the universe displayed…
 
Then sings my soul
my Savior God
to Thee
how great Thou art!
how great Thou art!

Our journey had advanced

Emily Dickinson
 
Our journey had advanced.
Our feet were almost come
To that odd fork in Being’s road
“Eternity” by term.
 
Our pace took sudden awe.
Our feet reluctant led.
Before were cities, but between
The forest of the dead.
 
Retreat was out of hope,
Behind, a sealed route,
“Eternity’s” white flag before,
And God at every gate. 
 

Pray: God Be With Me

God be with me,
 
before me,
behind me,
in me,
beneath me,
above me,
on my right,
on my left,
where I lie,
where I sit,
where I rise,
in my heart,
in my mouth,
in my ears,
in my eyes,
 
God be with me.

Poem

Wendell Berry
 
Willing to die
you give up
your will, keep still
until, moved
by what moves
all else, you move. 

Pray: John 12:27-28

Father,
my soul is troubled,
What shall I say?
“Save me from this hour?”
 
No.
 
Your purpose is lived out
in this moment.
 
For Your purpose,
I have come to this place,
this time,
this moment.
 
I,
 
Here,
 
Now,
 
for You.
 
Glorify Your Name
in me.

Lost

David Wagoner
 
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you. 

Pray: Psalm 40

I waited for You,
and You heard my cry.
You picked me up
from the mire I was in,
from the bog that was my life.
 
You picked me up
and put me on solid ground.
 
You put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to You.
 
I will sing a new song,
for You,
to You,
because of You.