Young man, old man, young woman, old woman, rise up

Jesus of Nazareth, that living Word of God, still comes to us wherever we are, touches the bier on which we find ourselves being carried along by our culture and speaks to directly us: “Young man, young woman, I say to you rise up.”

 Jesus comes our way to resuscitate the dying and to wake the dead.

      In our weakness and weariness he comes to wake the dead.

      If we become puffed up, confusing self importance with life, he comes.

      He comes to us when we sink into resentments, bitterness, or apathy.

      In our post-modern flirting with a life devoid of firm ethical values, he comes to us.

He hates to see death claim us.. He comes to all those biers and coffins which we foolishly may have decorated, and pretended to be “the good life,” and says to us:

“Young man, old man, young woman, old woman, rise up.”

http://www.bruceprewer.com/DocC/C39sun10.htm

And this is eternal life

Life with an eternal quality,

not in some imagined heaven,

but here, among earth’s dust and grit;

permeated with deep truthings

that cut through all the bullshit*

of a connivingly ignorant world.

Let it roll, Jesus;

let your surprising friendship sweep over all

and catch us up in your swelling tide.

Let your presence become a crashing wave

to carry us sublimely

to a divine place of abundance;

where the authenticity is sharp

and captures one’s breath,

where joy sparkles with intensity,

and where life-restricting greed

and preoccupation with the self

encounter their equals in defiant actions

of liberation, justice and compassion.

Let it be a place where long-heralded

generosity is, at last, allowed to rule

and to sculpt a new reality.

Take us to this eternal-life place, Jesus;

where the faithful live with tears and laughter,

defying the fears of the wealthy,

confronting the powerful,

and silencing the rampant demagogues;

and where the reckless and the courageous ones

lovingly enact your outrageous vision

of hope and freedom.

*substitute the less-offensive bull dust if you prefer.

© 2011 Ken Rookes