Before all else, Christ.

Responding to Colossians 1:15-28

Haiku

Christ is the image

of the invisible God;

all things came through him.

Thrones and dominions,

rulers, powers; they're nothing,

he comes before all.

He's the beginning,

head of the body, the Church,

firstborn from the dead.

In him God's fullness

was pleased to dwell,

ending estrangement.

Those who were estranged

are now reconciled through Christ,

and find peace with God

Our own sufferings

don't count; We participate

in Christ's afflictions.

We share the myst'ry

of Christ's presence, that we may

find ourselves in Him.

© Ken Rookes 2025

One and three.

Grappling haiku

They call it myst’ry

this trinity thing, holding

concepts in tension.

After all these years

I still don’t really get it.

I don’t think God minds.

Think how Parent God,

with Jesus and the Spirit,

strangely coalesce.

One God, three persons,

traditional formula:

all else heresy!

Does our imagined

God monitor errant thoughts;

scoring our faith?

Perhaps I also

am heretic. Woe is me!

Or does it matter?

The truth that matters:

God somehow strangely present

in our loving deeds.

O Holy Spirit,

Divine Parent and His Son,

let me live in you.

© Ken Rookes 2019

The mystery of God

"The "real target" of the ancient prohibitions against idolatry was religion itself: "And not just the kind that got people dancing around a golden calf.  It was warning us that no religious system could capture or contain the mystery of God.  Yet in history, that's exactly what many of them would go on to claim.  The Second Commandment was an early warning that the organizations that claimed to speak for God would become God's greatest rivals, the most dangerous idol of them all."

The commandment about idolatry would save us from our besetting sin of presumption: "You shall not misuse the name of the Lord." 

...The third commandment about the name of God warns us not only about our casual presumptions. It reminds us of the limits of human language when we speak about the Wholly Other God. CS Lewis captures the practical implications of this in his Footnote to All Prayers.

He whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow
When I attempt the ineffable Name, murmuring Thou,
And dream of Pheidian fancies and embrace in heart
Symbols (I know) which cannot be the thing Thou art.
Thus always, taken at their word, all prayers blaspheme
Worshiping with frail images a folk-lore dream,
And all men in their praying, self-deceived, address
The coinage of their own unquiet thoughts, unless
Thou in magnetic mercy to Thyself divert
Our arrows, aimed unskillfully, beyond desert;
And all men are idolaters, crying unheard
To a deaf idol, if Thou take them at their word.
Take not, O Lord, our literal sense. Lord, in thy great
Unbroken speech our limping metaphor translate."

 http://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1271-the-most-dangerous-idol-of-them-all

The day of the Dead

Halloween and the 'Day of the dead' are big news this week. They reflect our understandable fascination with death and the after-life. The gospel this week tells the story of yet another smart-alec trying to trick Jesus with an ethics-twister of a question and yet again Jesus turns it all around. The Sadducees asked Jesus a question about the after-life and the nature of family and judgement and power. I remember once when i had just finished a grave-side funeral service, being approached by a friend of the family who was concerned that the person who had died had not been a Christian and therefore would not be 'saved'. I was taken aback by the question and the timing, but answered her that i felt that if we take Jesus' teachings about the after-life, then his main teaching was that only God knows the nature of that space after death. Just like in today's gospel, he gives an answer that points us more towards mystery that clarity. On the occasions that Jesus does speak clearly about the afterlife he tells us stories like that of Lazarus and the rich man that focus on the tables being turned and on justice for the poor and merciful. Much of our modern teaching about life-after-death is more tradition than theology. Our funerals imply that their is a heaven where we will meet our lost loved-ones, but this is not the church's teaching. Strictly speaking, the traditional teaching of the church is that the faithful will be physically resurrected on the day of judgement. This is one of the reasons behind the Roman Catholic church's seemingly strange pronouncements against the scattering of ashes.
For myself, i am happy enough to stay with the mystery that Jesus implies, and to rest in the spirituality that acts from the certainty that 'nothing can separate us from the love of God.'
Rev Gordon Bannon

There is a place

They say there is a place, a state;

a sacred somewhere.

Distant; but not always.

A mystery glimpsed, at times,

on other occasions, cloud-shrouded

with shimmering smoke, obscured

such that only the persistent

will gaze long and hard enough

to be certain it is there.

A place that is there to be found by those who search;

a few stumble upon it.

Their surprise and delight is great.

There, meaning is written sharply,

truths are incandescent

and painted on walls.

There, light shines with the clear brightness

of autumn late afternoons,

the loving is fierce,

and justice compels.

This elusive place appears

as a flash glimpsed

for a moment among the shadows;

where mystery's flickering panorama excites

and calls to the depths

to awaken aches and earnings.

Seek, the man once instructed his friends.

You will find; and watch

as the divinely dusted universe

opens to disclose its possibilities.

© Ken Rookes 2016

Triune Haiku

To make sense of Christ,

(they say it is essential);

this trinity thing.

How does it all work?

Some questions can't be answered,

but still we ask them.

Father, Son, Spirit;

our mystical formula.

Ah, we are foolish!

© Ken Rookes 2016

God as Mystery

In the Gospel reading we hear of someone else being tested. A man asked Jesus what he should do to inherit eternal life. He did not have his possessions taken from him in the way that Job did. He was given the opportunity of giving them up himself and some people are given a choice in this way in the tests they face. It would be debatable as to whether it was more painful or less to make the choice yourself, though many given a choice would take the road with less pain even if it meant less gain. Some don’t seem to face much testing. Some come through the testing to a fuller, richer though not necessarily wealthier life. Why? We don’t know. We try guessing but that is often a futile exercise as Job was to find.
We speak of God as Mystery. We mere humans cannot ever comprehend God’s ways. We can come to a greater place of awe in our relationship with the Eternal Creator. We can come to say we Job, “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God and not receive the bad?” We can wonder, each for ourselves, about our classification of “good” and “bad”. It doesn’t help us if someone else does this for us. In Ephesians, we are told to give thanks for all things” [Ephesians 5:20] and that “All things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to God’s purpose.” [Romans 8:28] In the middle of our pain, this can be hard to hang on to.
What of the woman who dared to speak in such a way to God? Her troubles didn’t end. She left her home and fields and become a minister of the Word. When she was in her ninth home, she was complaining to her daughter who said, “Doesn’t it say somewhere that when you leave your home you will get a hundred more? [Mark 10:29,30] I figure that means you have 91 still to go.” Now she is up to either 47 or 49. She lost count somewhere and as for mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers well, the count must be well in the hundreds. While this has brought untold blessing it too has had its pain. Many times all that has kept her going was the assurance that God IS and memories of God’s faithfulness in the past have given hope for the future.
Rev Julianne Parker (for full sermon see sermon's page)

What does prayer mean for you?

What does prayer mean for you? God is the great Mystery we can barely begin to know and yet, paradoxically, are called to know and prayer often seems even more of a mystery and paradox. Many people can give examples of prayer being answered and maybe even more of prayer seeming not to be answered. When you start talking about frustration with unanswered prayer, people are likely to tell you that it’s your fault that it isn’t working, you are not doing it right. This is frustrating.

Perhaps it would be easier for us to understand pray if we gave it a different name and expanded our view of it. The word ‘prayer’ may make us nervous and we be anxious about getting the right words or we may think that only certain people can pray or even that God only listens to some people. Prayer is communication with God and we are aware of the importance of body language in communication. It is about our attitude and activities as well as our words.

It is intended to be two way but we sometimes don’t let God get a word in. It doesn’t always require conversation. It can be about being present to God the way we spend time with friends. If we talked ceaselessly in any given situation, our friends would soon become tired of us so sometimes it is better to remain silent. Meditation and contemplation are forms of silent prayer and Lectio Divino is prayerfully asked God to speak to us through contemplation of Scripture, creation or a particular situation.

Unfortunately, most of us never get anywhere near the pinnacle of prayer experience. That requires dedication, concentration, practice and commitment. It also about realising that more is available and possible for us than we have ever dreamed of in relationship with God.

Rev Julianne Parker

(for full sermon see sermons page)

How can these things be?

 

Mysteries and intimations;

things unseen,
unknown and unspoken.
The merest flicker of light
shining in darkness;
gleaming life amidst earth’s dust,
passing beyond birth’s waters
into realms of the spirit.
Places of healing, hope,
regions of truth;
mysteries.
 
The story-teller from provinces,
famous for his riddles
and tales with unexpected endings,
spoke often of wonders,
things half glimpsed among the shadows,
fleeting and never quite grasped.
No, you can’t grab hold of the wind.
His erudite nocturnal visitor
can only shake his head
and mumble unanswerable questions;
How can these things be?
 
The mysteries are many,
deep, disturbing and full of wonder:
life, labelled eternal,
generous love, called grace,
discipleship of the passionate kind,
and costly sacrifice.
 

 

 

© Ken Rookes 2015

Divine things

All around us,

divine things;

elusive butterflies of different hues

catching the light and reflecting it

in rainbow colours, flashing

as they flap their delicate wings.

From shade into brightness

and back into the shadows they flutter;

intermittently visible,

persistently present, fragile.

Tears and generosity,

humility, sacrifice, and discomforting truth,

these things; born out of love,

and vulnerable. Like god.

They dance, unconstrained,

through the dappled sunlight,

precariously present.              

Divine things,

all around us, (and within);

keep your eyes upon them.

© Ken Rookes 2015

Ascension

 

The way Luke tells the story
in his two-volumed tome,
the ascension and resurrection of our Lord
was really the one event, neatly book-ended
by the two men dressed in dazzling white
who sneak up suddenly beside the disciples.
I presume that the need for two figures
is to avoid the possibility that, if there were only one,
he might confused with the risen Lord himself.
Handy with their rhetorical questions,
the men become a useful literary device,
proceeding to explain to Jesus’ followers
what is really happening.
The ascension is an awkward story, really;
necessitated by a physical resurrection,
and the subsequent need to dispose of a body.
This, in turn, is required by Luke and Matthew
to give apparent substance to the reality and wonder
of divine presence,
experienced long beyond the days
when Jesus walked and worked and lived among them,
recklessly living out his message of all-conquering love.
It is experienced still.
John does not concern himself with the ascension,
and Mark, at least in his shorter ending,
is prepared to settle for the ambiguity
of an empty tomb.

© Ken Rookes

All they could do

 

All they could do, the gospel writers,
and those who crafted the stories before them
was to grope in wonder after some words.
Words to convey even a shining edge
of the full mystery.
So they wrote of angels shimmering with white,
and an earthquake that shook the very foundations
of both earth and heaven;
and of the surprise of a disappearing man
who could not be grasped
but who was strangely with them still.
Of the impossibly empty space
that death had once occupied.
They told of a stone,
the removal of which would have required a forklift,
that had apparently been flicked away by a divine finger.
They wrote of unsurpassed joy and of hope
that had been conjured ex nihilo.
They told of embracings,
of illuminating journeys and intimate dinings,
of unexpected recognitions
and equally bewildering disappearances.
Their stories included the elements of honest fear,
uncertainty, and disbelief;
as if to underline the wonder.
One who they had loved,
in whom the Divine One appeared to dwell,
and who, they all attested, had been killed;
was somehow present. Living. Decades on.
All they could do was grope in the diminished darkness,
and hope to find some words.

© Ken Rookes

Six days later

 

With his introductory, Six days later,
Matthew follows Mark in sending us backwards to his previous story; 
with its talk of losing and finding one’s life. 
A triumvirate of friends accompanies their master up the mountain, 
where the gentle swell of casual conversation
empties abruptly into a wave of light, awe and mystery.
Two glowing figures from their nation’s glorious past
emerge from among the rocks to confer with the teacher,
while his companions look on, bewildered.
One of them, as clueless as his comrades,
feeling overwhelmed and useless,
offers his services in cubby-house construction,
before being rendered speechless,
as the luminous wave rolls into a cloud of brightness
that subsumes all other lights.
Not satisfied with dominating the visual realm
the cloud finds its voice to declare the presence of a divine son,
and to command attention:
Listen to him!
When he speaks of a discipleship
that deals with suffering, dying and rising,
and when he speaks of taking up crosses;
Listen to him!

© Ken Rookes 2014 

The dead do not commonly return to life.

The laws of nature,
gravity, motion, molecular forces,
the rotation of the planet,
the limitations of light’s velocity,
DNA’s blueprint,
time’s one-way direction,
and the cycles of life, death and new life,
seem to be upheld punctiliously
by the creator of the universe.
The dead do not commonly return to life.
The resurrection of our Lord
is held to be the exception;
and who knows what actually happened
on those few occasions
when he is said to have raised the dead.
Even his own risen appearances
are matters for speculation;
feel my wounds / touch me not /
now we see him / now we don’t.
We need to sit with the mystery
and embrace the uncertainty;
assured only that he who died
is strangely with us,
and that his Spirit is here
loving us into life and risk.

© Ken Rookes

Ungraspable

Grasping after the ungraspable

mysterious God,
who allows God’s-self to be glimpsed
touched, known and argued with
in the very human Son of Man,
as he walks dustily and hungrily
along lonely paths;
stepping among anxious people
who press insistently and demand answers.
Reaching after elusive meaning
in a world that weeps, mourns,
confounds and hides;
in which the surprising Spirit
of a strangely gracious God
emerges from human shadows
to disturb and shake.
She affirms the doubting,
lifts the faltering
and breathes stillness into the fear.
Always this servant Spirit comes
to brush tender tingling life,
hinting at the mystery
of the three-personed God
in whom all things have their beginning;
and their end.
 

© Ken Rookes

 

Eternal One

“Eternal One,
Silence from whom my words come;
Questioner from whom my questions arise;
Lover of whom all my loves are hints;
Disturber in whom alone I find my rest;
Mystery in whose depths I find healing and myself;
enfold me now in your presence;
restore to me your peace;
renew me through your power;
and ground me in your grace.”
—Ted Loder, “Ground Me in Your Grace

Like Eagles

Isaiah 40: 21-31 A Reflection.

It all begins in mystery;

voices in the darkness,

whispers strained after,

questions.

Do you know?

Have you heard?

Can you possibly understand even just a glimmer?

Above the vault of the heavens

and beyond the deep night,

is the point where mystery takes breath

and light begins.

The one whose love is source of all,

looks with tenderness upon everything that has been made,

numbers and names each of earth’s inhabitants

and notes their various locations.

Like grasshoppers they leap about

as they make their way.

Some rise high, use their

wealth and power

to dominate and control

they will be brought to nothing.

Like plants they sprout,

green, proud and strong,

little dreaming that one day a divine breath will come

to blow scorchingly upon them;

they wither, and are reduced to dust.

They will be carried away to nothingness,

along with their memory.

We are left to wonder at mystery,

but she evades our grasp.

Invited to make comparisons,

to identify her equal,

we find none;

we are silent.

A voice speaks to challenge:

Behold: each star in its allotted place,

each one numbered

and recorded, along with its name

in the celestial register;

they are all present, none is missing.

Can there be any mightier

than the one who has appointed them?

You who have become discouraged and fearful,

believing you have been abandoned,

that the one who called you into being is absent

and there is none to hold you to account;

you are mistaken.

You are remembered, you are known.

You were never lost;

even in this place, far from where you want to be,

the tireless mystery knows you, finds you.

Her love for you does not weaken,

His care for you is undiminished.

Those who are about to faint with fear and sorrow

will find strength.

Those who feel that they have no future

will find hope.

Laugh into the darkness,

gesture with defiance towards the night.

The beauty power of youth is a wonderful thing,

it, too will pass.

Even the fittest will grow weary and fail

and the finest athlete will become weak and exhausted.

It is those who know the presence of their maker,

who hold fast to his promises,

who trust in her love;

these will stand.

They will complete the journey that has been set before them,

they will not fall.

They will be like eagles.


©Ken Rookes 2012
This is a reflection on Isaiah 40:21-31. It's a bit of a work in progress, but I think it might be helpful in getting into the spirit of the passage.
It's Friday night and I have made some amendments!

The demons

The early paths

of my neo-pentecostal meanderings

passed by way of the demons.

Taking literally the stories

of gospel writer Mark, et al,

like this one set in Capernaum,

we addressed these shadowy

and unclean spirits;

commanding an immediate departure

from their unsuspecting hosts.

I sometimes wondered where they went.

The dark and horned tormenting creatures

of medieval and renaissance paintings

have become mainstream.

Joining their vampire/werewolf/monster

allies on flickering screens,

these demons create easy

and seemingly illicit thrills

for new generations of children

who have become bored with the sameness

of their comfortable lives

and yearn for mystery,

whatever its colour.

I no longer believe in demons;

there is sufficient cruelty and derision

in the brokenness of humankind.

Mystery, however, rainbow-hued and shining,

intrudes persistently into my disbelief;

she brings no cheap shivers.

She will not be grasped, nor commanded,

but may be glimpsed

in the stories of the Nazarene

and those he encountered.

Like this troubled and damaged man, who,

hearing an unexpected and disturbing

word of love,

begins his freedom life.

© Ken Rookes 2012
I may make some changes. It will do for now.

Trinity

When the human Jesus no longer

walked amidst earth’s dust,

we might have expected his influence

to wane. But it didn’t; his story was told,

his words were remembered

and his mysterious presence

continued to be felt. His inspired followers

attested to an ongoing connection,

and concluded that, without doubt,

he must have been the unique child

of the all-creating Deity, and that his Spirit

resided with them still.

Starting with the inherited, and therefore

inevitable starting point, that God is One;

they then declared the Divinity

to be Triune. This would eventually

cause considerable consternation

among the logically and mathematically inclined;

those who insist upon precise definitions

and accurate formulations.

In earnest desperation they still

scratch around for a neat analogy

from nature, science or geometry;

to elucidate that which can never

be explained. Likenesses

are always inadequate,

just as all metaphors eventually fail;

the curious God who was found to be

surprisingly present can never

be reduced to mere diagrams.

© 2011 Ken Rookes

All they could do.

All they could do,

the gospel writers, and those

who crafted the stories before them,

was to grope in wonder after some words.

Words to convey even a shining edge

of the full mystery. So they wrote of angels

shimmering with white, and an earthquake

that shook the very foundations of both earth

and heaven; and of the surprise

of a disappearing man who could not be grasped

but who was strangely with them still.

Of the impossibly empty space that death

had once occupied. They told of a stone,

the removal of which would have required a forklift,

that had apparently been flicked away

by a divine finger. They wrote of unsurpassed joy

and of hope that had been conjured ex nihilo.

They told of embracings, of illuminating journeys

and intimate dinings, of unexpected recognitions

and equally bewildering disappearances.

Their stories included the elements of honest fear,

uncertainty, and disbelief;

as if to underline the wonder.

One who they had loved,

in whom the Divine One appeared to dwell,

and who, they all attested, had been killed;

was somehow present. Living. Decades on.

All they could do was grope

in the diminished darkness, and hope

to find some words.

© Ken Rookes