The Gentiles have come to faith

 Responding to Acts 11:1-18

Haiku of new insights

No way! The Gentiles

have come to faith! Was that in

our mission statement?

What goes on, Peter?

Eating with Gentiles? You know

they're uncircumcised!

It's like this, said Pete.

I had a vision; a sheet

of unclean creatures.

A voice spoke to me:

Get up and eat! No way, Lord,

I don't eat unclean.

The voice spoke again:

If I say it's clean, it's clean!

Now do what I say.

It happened three times;

leaving me perplexed, not sure

as to its meaning.

Just then, three men came.

Go with them, said the Spirit.

Thought we'd better go.

The house was Gentile,

but that no longer mattered.

We went inside, preached.

The uncircumcised

heard the gospel and believed;

we didn't plan it!

The Holy Spirit

fell on them, just like on us;

so we baptised them.

The penny has dropped:

God's salvation is for all,

both Jew and Gentile.

© Ken Rookes 2025

The wilderness road

Haiku of inclusion and welcome

An angel told him:

take the wilderness road, south,

heading to Gaza.

Philip did as told,

not knowing who he would find.

He found a eunuch.

An important man,

the eunuch was heading home,

from Jerusalem.

In his chariot

reading Isaiah, puzzled

at what it might mean.

Do you understand?

Philip asked. I need someone

to guide me, he said.

Like a lamb, silent

before its shearer; this speaks

to us of Jesus.

They came to a pool.

What prevents my baptism?

the eunuch asked him.

He was baptised. The

Ethiopian entered

into God’s kingdom.

Outsider by race,

cut off in more ways than one;

he is made welcome.

© Ken Rookes 2024

The Sower

Haiku of potential

The seed is scattered

on the ploughed earth by the man,

hoping and praying.

It’s all about soil

and where the seed comes to rest;

where it sends down roots.

Some fall on the path;

the birds know that they’re in luck,

swiftly make their claim.

On the rocky soil

shoots come soon, then fall away;

lack sufficient roots.

The weeds claim their share,

choking tender shoots of green;

lacking commitment.

Seemingly against

the odds, some seed comes to rest

in good soil. Hooray!

Like in the kingdom

the gospel seeds find a place

where love can grow strong.

Take the seed deeply

in your heart, listen to it,

bear abundant fruit.

© Ken Rookes 2020

Becoming flesh

Haiku of wonder

In the beginning.

What a great opening line;

so much could follow.

Logos, more than word;

impossible mystery,

the essence of God.

There at creation,

alongside and one with God,

through whom all things come.

The six days give way

to the big bang universe;

was the Logos there?

Logos, source of life,

light challenging the darkness,

never submitting.

The true light arrives

to enlighten humankind;

may that day come soon!

Somehow mystery

takes flesh, coming among us;

living and dying.

Can you see where he

does touch earth with grace and hope;

will you receive him?

You who receive him

are his sisters and brothers;

children of God’s will.

© Ken Rookes 2019

Sent ahead

Haiku for mission

Seventy, there were,

in pairs, sent ahead of him

with a word of peace.

Jesus said to them,

The harvest is plentiful,

we must bring it in.

Be a labourer.

Tell of the kingdom’s good news;

touch them with new life.

You will be like lambs;

vulnerable. It’s all right;

that’s the way it is.

Those who follow me

must deal with hostility.

It is always so.

Travel light; no bag,

no purse. Don’t be distracted

from the work of peace.

Some will welcome you.

Stay with them, be satisfied.

Bring healing, breathe hope.

It is coming near,

God’s kingdom; we’re bringing it.

This is a great work.

Rejoining Jesus

they spoke with joy and wonder

of what they had seen.

© Ken Rookes 2019

A sower went out.

Haiku for gardeners

He goes to the lake,

finds a boat beached on the shore.

The crowd waits, eager.

What word will they hear;

what deep message awaits them?

He tells them stories.

Calls them parables;

he wants to get them thinking,

pondering kingdom.

A sower went out

to plant; eager and with hope.

He cast seed widely.

What might it produce?

That, friends, is the mystery;

depends where it lands.

The path and its birds,

shallow soil on rocky ground,

or the thorns that choke.

There is good soil, too.

The disciples are puzzled;

What does it all mean?

The seed is good news,

the gospel of the kingdom.

Not all receive it.

Some seed finds good soil;

hearts that are open to love.

These will bear much fruit.

© Ken Rookes 2017

See, I am sending you.

A cluster of haiku

As lambs among wolves,

so, my friends, I send you out:

bearers of good news.

Pronounce God's shalom.

The blessing will find a home

in children of peace.

As they welcome you

those people, too, will be blessed;

God's reign coming near.

Not all will listen,

some will not see the kingdom.

Still, it has come near.

© Ken Rookes 2016

Rising

 

For seven weeks the season called Easter

stretches out, long after the eggs
have been divested of their foil
and the chocolate has been consumed.
It persistently recalls the mystery,
as we read, in episodes,
the story of women and men
who met unexpectedly with their risen Lord.
Luke, teller of good news,
offers us a sometimes ghostly,
sometimes fleshly, Jesus;
both of whom lead us to renewed wondering.
We hear, again,
the familiar but unlikely resurrection tales,
and are faced with the same worrisome possibilities
of all past Easters.
The narratives call loudly,
and reach deeply,
as the spirit of Jesus invites us
to take our part in the great ongoing drama.
He challenges us to take courage,
to walk his road of love and forgiveness,
and to carry in our own bodies
the defiant confrontation,
determined hope,
and costly sacrifice
that may yet redeem the world.
 

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

preferring darkness to the light

"...we can be critical of the Israelites as they wandered. We don’t actually know exactly how long it took them to reach their destination. Someone reminded me recently that it is a journey of less them a week on foot if you go directly from Egypt to the Promised Land. But when you are in the wilderness of grief, it can seem a long, long time and many times you wonder if you will ever make it to the other side. Like the Israelites, it can help us to have something held in front of us by a friend, to remind us that God still cares even when we feel we are being attacked on all sides. We can hang on to the knowledge of Christ and the message from the Gospel of John that God did not send Jesus to judge or to condemn us but to save us.

It is not at all unusual for grieving people to feel they are being condemned by others who think they should be over it or just forget about it and get on with their lives. People who have suffered loss do not need to be further traumatised by the use of Scripture that condemns them and seems to show God as harsh and uncaring.

It has been pointed out [Richard Rohr] that Jesus selectively emphasised texts that revealed his God as good, faithful, inclusive and merciful. And he created stories and healing events to communicate that point. Jesus consistently ignored passages that reveal God as punitive, exclusionary, imperialistic, small or tribal.  The Gospel reading set for today [John 3: 19-21] talks about people preferring darkness to the light which has come into the world. Concentrating on passages about God sending poisonous snakes is preferring darkness to the light which Jesus shines on God."
Rev Julianne Parker
(for full sermon see sermons page)

But we had hoped

 

He wove skilfully his stories,
cleverly fashioning those tricky endings,
unexpectedly sharp and sticky,
that squeezed themselves
through religion’s carefully crafted defences,
and made us all squirm.

After a time we began,
in small ways,
to catch on.
Just glimpses at first, and then,
something more, remote but shining,
the merest of possibilities.

With every tale of forgiveness,
every word of grace and love,
and every hand reached out
in friendship and welcome,
it swelled into a nearly graspable thing
that we called hope.

Hope in the divine one’s goodness.
Hope that the world might be renewed.
Hope that freedom will be born,
justice might prevail and that peace should reign.
Hope that fighting would stop,
that fear might be vanquished,

and that the final word be love.

But we had hoped.


© Ken Rookes 2014

They drove him out

 

They drove him out of the Temple;
the unnamed man, who,
according to John, had been born blind.
Now, with the wondrous gift of sight,
he could not be less concerned;
he has no desire to ever go back,
and he won’t.
The Temple no longer has what he needs;
he will manage without it. In turn,
the Temple will have to get on without him;
and all the others, who,
over the millennia,
have been dismissed from its hallowed courts.
The Temple has been adept
at expelling embarrassments;
those who no longer recite the creeds,
who ask their awkward questions
and dare to give shape to their doubts.
Preferring the elusive uncertainty of truth,
whatever its unexpected contours,
they despise the Temple’s promise
of security and comfort.
They would rather die outside the walls
than live the delusions within.
Do your worst, Temple;
drive them all out.
Nobody cares
anymore.

© Ken Rookes 2014

O Light who is shining

O Light who is Shining

O Light who is shining in all the dark places;

shine on me.
Radiate your hope upon shadowed faces;
let them see
the love and the courage of one who’s defying
the powers that threaten, the gloom that’s denying
the truth, grace and justice; together defining
the kingdom that’s coming to be.

O Light who is true and cuts through the night-time;

shine in me.
Let love glow warm when we’re worried and frightened
make us free;
for action to end all the fear and the hating,
to touch anxious hearts when love is abating,
to bring on the peace for which all are waiting;
where faith, hope and love abide: three.

O Light who is life for all of creation,

shine through me.
We are the offspring of Love’s celebration;
sent to be -
the flickering flames of hope where there’s need,
embracing God’s children, regardless of creed.
To gather a harvest, where love is the seed;
we make this our goal and our plea.

©2010 words: Ken Rookes

music: Judy & Jessica Chalmers

Music may be found at www.kenrookes.com.au

Come down, Zacchaeus.

The crowd offered no help
to the short-in-stature man, whose face
confirmed their initial impression
that this was one Zacchaeus, chief
among the ratbag tax collectors.

The tree was a sycamore;  its gnarled
and twisted branches offered a convenient
means of elevation, enabling the man to rise
above his dilemma and successfully view the teacher,
whose reputation had travelled ahead of him,
all the way to Jericho.

Perhaps the Zac-man’s reputation
had also preceded him. Who can say?
When the teacher looked through
the shadowed leaves and branches
he saw the face of the climbing man,
and called him down with an unexpected invitation.

Hospitality is extended and accepted,
much to the grumbling derision  of the good religious people,
who could offer only sneering observations
about who one should choose as friends.
The teacher laughs them off,
captive to a larger vision of divine friendship.

Unsettled by such disturbing grace,
sinner Zacchaeus offers compensation
and justice to any he has defrauded;
a sure sign that the gospel has been truly proclaimed
and the kingdom has indeed come near.

© Ken Rookes 2010

Invitation

The great Apostle

wasn’t much good at spin,

nor would he ever have been elected

to the position

had apostleship been subject to

democratic processes.

“Join me in suffering

for the gospel,” he writes

in a policy speech to his young acolyte;

seemingly oblivious to the oxymoron

that many good people see in that

brief invitation.

Yes, folks; that’s what discipleship

can do for you, too!

Out the window with that ‘prosperity’ stuff;

if you want a world of justice,

truth and love,

it looks like we’re in for the hard slog.

Not quite the good news we were expecting;

might as well vote for higher taxes,

while we’re at it.

© Ken Rookes 2013

The Gospel

"It seems to me that it is a minority that ever gets the true and full Gospel. We just keep worshiping Jesus and arguing over the exact right way to do it. The amazing thing is that Jesus never once says, “worship me!”, but he often says, “follow me” (e.g., Matthew 4:19). Christianity is a lifestyle—a way of being in the world that is simple, non-violent, shared, inclusive, and loving. We made it, however, into a formal established religion, in order to avoid the demanding lifestyle itself. One could then be warlike, greedy, racist, selfish, and vain at the highest levels of the church, and still easily believe that Jesus is “my personal Lord and Savior.” The world has no time for such silliness anymore. The suffering on Earth is too great." http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Daily-Meditation--Compassionate-Action----September-8--2012.html?soid=1103098668616&aid=0dakmIEvssw