Happy Pentecost Sunday!

After a writing prompt from the Kingdom Story Writers Facebook Group this month on the theme of the Holy Spirit, I wrote the following poem. I hesitate to call it a poem, because it was written in one sitting and only lightly edited… there was not much crafting going on! Nevertheless, it flowed from me as I tried to put voice to the feelings I had years ago after reading Jesus words, “it is better for you that I go away” (John 16:7). At the time I struggled to imagine how anything could be better than having Jesus physically present. It was only as I got to know the Holy Spirit better as ‘another the same’ (the literal meaning of Jn 14:16) – but now dwelling in each of us, that I started to catch a glimpse of what Jesus meant.

So here is my poem, written from the imagined view of one of Jesus’ original disciples from 2000 years ago…

It is Better

Last night I dreamed I was back in Galilee,
sat by the lapping shores of Gennasaret,
listening to the treasures falling from the mouth of Jesus,
scattered like pearls at our feet, for whosoever…
How I longed to be one who had ‘ears to hear’.

I remember His eyes, those endless pools of love
one minute sparkling with pure joy over our company,
the next, flashing with terrible fire at those who would withhold healing from His beloved.
Oh my Lord, I would have followed You anywhere.

But where you are I cannot go – yet.
I am here and you are there, and there is a gulf between.
It feels like loss, except
You said it was better for You to go…

In the days that followed a darkness descended that none of us thought we would survive.
But then you returned, and our relief was complete:
You had conquered death;
You walked among us once more;
Surely nothing now could separate us.

Then you left.
Again.
For good this time.
We gazed into the air after you, both awed and
bereft, knowing we would never hear Your voice again.
This time a victorious leaving, but still – you left.
And again we wondered how we could live without you.

We fumbled and stumbled and did our best to follow Your teachings
While constantly aware of the cavernous hole Your absence had left in our hearts,
Longing to live lives worthy of You, but
now painfully aware that we couldn’t do it without You.

Of course it was better for You, that You should return to Your Father –
You deserved all the rich rewards of Heaven for what You had done here in those few short glorious years.
But it didn’t feel better for us, here.
In my misery all I could do was wait.
And desperately hope to somehow cling to faith by my fingertips until I died.

But then… oh!
Then came that glorious day:
Wind rushing, flames dancing, mysterious words poured out in torrents like uncontainable rivers,
And the joy… oh the joy!

You had returned, but not as before.
Now – oh the mystery – You are within.
Now Your voice resounds from within.
Now Your love burns within.
Now Your power is contained within our feeble frames.
It is too marvellous to bear.
But still it is You – here! 
Never to leave again.
With us once more – within.

And not just within, but without…
You are in every one of us.
I look into the eyes of Your children and see You there:
Your sparkling love and flashing fire.
Your pearls of wisdom fall from their lips.
And Your presence flows through us all.
With You we are bold again.
I know I will follow You anywhere.

Last night I dreamed I was back in Galilee
But this morning when I awoke, I knew…
It is better.

I haven’t written poetry for a while. I used to love it, but it’s one of those things that I just seem to not have had time/ inspiration for, for a while. But this morning when I woke up I was meditating on the very first ‘Easter Saturday’ and what it would have been like for the first disciples. I imagined them waking up to a day without hope, for they were engulfed in grief and did not yet know the joys that Resurrection Sunday would bring. I wanted to write something about it, and how I can sometimes relate – even knowing the certain joy and victory of Resurrection Sunday, there are times in my life where I feel like certain things are over and there’s nothing I can do. But just like the early disciples who felt useless and could only leave it to God to bring his plan to fruition… even when we feel we are out of options and can do nothing, God is still there: He may be out of sight, but is without a doubt working a miracle on our behalf that will lead to something so much better than we could ever have worked for ourselves.

So I wrote ‘The Day Between’ It’s rough and I daresay when I read it back another day I will find plenty to criticise about it. But for today I hope it expresses everything I was feeling about how even when we come to the end of ourselves, God has a plan and it’s not over. As the title of the poem suggests: what we feel is the end, is usually just the point between coming to the end of ourselves, and God showing His power without our help…

The Day Between

Yesterday was our last day of hope.
Our final chance to pray together, be together, now passed.
Holding out for one last miracle, we watched our Lord hang, bleeding and dying on a cursed cross –
Jesus, come down, come back to us – won’t you let the angels save You?
We believe… we believe You can do anything.  Please, for our sakes – save Yourself.
You said you wouldn’t leave us as orphans –
We cannot make it without You… this can’t be the end.
Please don’t die; don’t leave us.

But He died.
All hope gone.
Our Saviour gone, what is left to do?  What point in prayer?
There is nothing we can do – He is gone, and we are alone.
No amount of praying, fasting, obeying can change that… what are we to do?
Nothing.
Just rest, for today is Sabbath – the day ordained by God to bless us with rest.
How can today be a blessing?
It is a prison, mocking us with the emphasis that there is nothing we can do.
As we rest, everything is in our Father’s hands.
What a blessing it usually is, to know that He holds our lives and keeps the world turning,
even while we rest.
But today it is a brutal reminder that there is nothing we can do.
We woke this morning to the darkest of days.  Our Lord is gone – what are we to do?
Nothing.
For today, and tomorrow, and the rest of time, there is nothing we can do. 
Our Lord is gone, and we are facing a future bereft of hope.
Looks like the enemy won – but how can that be?
How can he have the final victory over Jesus, who conquered and cast him out so many times?
Were we wrong? Is God not there?
Even Jesus cried out that God had left Him – has He left us too?
We are alone, and there is nothing we can do.
Wherever Jesus is now, there is nothing we can do to bring Him back –
Just sit in our hopeless uselessness.

Jesus said the temple would be destroyed, but it looks like our leaders destroyed Him.
Of course, He also said He would restore it after three days…
And He said He would give the world the sign of Jonah: brought back after three days in the depths.
He promised He’d come back for us.
Wouldn’t that be something?
Imagine if right now all Heaven’s angels are holding their breath, waiting, knowing it’s not over!
Imagine if He reappeared among us once more – the story not over, the enemy not victorious!
Imagine if He didn’t leave us as orphans!
Imagine if by dying He didn’t save Himself but saved us instead!
Imagine if He conquered death – and sin – without any help from us, but for us!
Imagine if God didn’t need us to do anything but is still going to bring Him back, while we rest…

But how could that be?  We saw Him die.
There was nothing we could do to stop it.
And there is nothing we can do to bring Him back.
It’s in God’s hands now.