Saturday, March 30, 2013

Promises and Hope

The sun gives life to the daffodils
and they trust the promise of spring.
I"m listening to Handel's Messiah.
Tomorrow we will sing the Hallelujah!
Handel's Hallelujah....
yes the one that comes just before
I Know that my Redeemer Liveth!
and after Isaiah's moving prediction
of a suffering Lamb, our sacrifice for sin.
 Isaiah knew--somehow he knew--that this life is not the end of all things. This life is winter; next is spring.
That Handel also knew, I have no doubt
Although he must have lived through
Many a winter, many a snow, and in old age, a blindness that seized him with dismay.
I wonder if he ever feared that he would never live again
To see his own Redeemer on a resurrection day
It was on Good Saturday that Handel died, just in time for Easter awakening....All over England they sang his songs.
They sang the tune he gave to the immortal words of Job, another strangely-hopeful man, who lingered at the edge of death to say with amazing prescience and an intrepid hope:

I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand in the later day upon the earth.
 Isaiah!
Handel!
Job!
 Countless more, a line that stretches around the world and back--to the opening curtain of our fragile, one-act play.

Yet in my flesh, I will see God.
And like the daffodils, I seek the sun
I turn my face to the light
And trust His promise.
My Redeemer liveth!
Hallelujah!

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Stoic Trees

I've always admired the bones of trees
Dark in the winter against the sky
Bowing stiffly before the breeze,
Scratching the wind as it brushes by.
They long for leaves, I'm sure of that
But they stand in silence, aloof and gray
Enduring the cold, and the bare, bald shame
Waiting for resurrection day.