Carol O'Hara

One of the members of our Maldon congregation in the Presbytery.
A passionate evangelist.

Some new pieces of work by Ken Rookes the artist

Here Ken explores the concept of Jesus as Goth.

And another one from Ken

If it were not so,
would I have told you
that I go to prepare a place for you?

A belonging place
of warm snugglings, clean
soap smells and gentle claspings.
A trusting place,
where secrets and shamings
are whispered with confidence,
without fear.
A friending place,
welcoming and encouraging
the unexpecting stranger.
A quieting place
where the agitated soul
is surprised by givings of peace.
A crying place
of healing tears, and sighings.
A truthing place
of open eyes and useful pain.
A laughing place
where joy is full
and the camaraderie great.
Yes,
this is the place.

And another one from Ken

In the breaking of bread

In the breaking of bread
the Lord is known.
The human-shaped God
takes the hospitality of heaven in his hands
and distributes it to his friends.
“This is for you,” he says
looking into the eyes of the hungry.
“This food is me. Take me deep inside
your eyes, your head, your heart and your belly.
Take me into your dreams and your struggles,
your fears and your waking thoughts.
Take me deep into your cryings
and your rejoicings. Take me as you journey
towards the wonder of love
and the mystery of grace.
Find me deep within your sharings,
your yearnings, your laughings,
and the fullness of your life together.
See me with you in the loneliness of dark night
and when you close your eyes
against the blinding light.
See me; even when I disappear.
This is for you,”
he says.

Some poetry from Rev Ken Rhookes

What better way to begin a blogging than by the sharing of some poetry.
Emmaus journeying

We often walked, Cleopas and I
to Jerusalem,
and back home again.
We knew the road well,
the hills, the dusty gravel,
and the places where,
on a hot afternoon,
we would take our shaded rest.
Our conversation helped to shrink
the couple of hours, briskly walked.
On that afternoon we stumbled
through the seas of silence
to awkward islands of
repeated, unanswered questions;
our bewilderment taking shape
in clumsy words.

It could be busy enough,
that humble track,
so we were hardly surprised
when the stranger caught us up.
He gathered our questions
with each stride,
reshaping them unexpectedly
and tossing them before us
until the road ahead,
and the one upon which we had journeyed
these recent years
became clear, confident
and joyous.

The stranger is gone now,
yet his words remain.
The landscape upon which we journey
may be strange and unfamiliar,
but now we know where we are going.