It's all about grace

Haiku responding to 1 Timothy 1:12-17

It's all about grace.

The writer shows gratitude

for new life in Christ.

Listing his failures,

which are many, the writer

expresses wonder.

He called me to serve;

I, who had blasphemed, a man

of violence. What grace!

The grace of our Lord

overflowed for me, pouring

out Christ's faith and love.

The saying is sure:

Christ Jesus came among us

to save the sinful.

First among sinners,

I received mercy, showing

the patience of Christ.

If I can receive,

by faith, Christ's eternal life,

so can anyone!

To the ageless King

immortal, be honour and

glory, forever!

© Ken Rookes 2025

Sorry I spoke, God.

Haiku of vindication

Overwhelmed by God’s

magnificence, Job is forced

to humbly concede.

Compared to you, God,

I am an ignorant fool,

I’m sorry I spoke.

How can I question

your ways, O God? My knowledge

can’t compare with yours.

I had only heard

of you; now, having seen you,

I am mortified.

The story concludes

as Job’s fortunes are restored;

a happy ending!

The bit we missed.

After Job’s response

God agreed against Job’s friends;

Job had spoken truth.

Vindicated! Job

did not deserve to suffer;

he’d done nothing wrong.

A protest story:

Just because you’re suffering

doesn’t mean you’re bad.

Among the lessons

of this story: it’s okay

to argue with God.

© Ken Rookes 2024

Behold, God's wonder.

Haiku for the weary

Gaze at creation,

the prophet-poet declares;

behold God’s wonder!

From earth’s foundations

the evidence has been there

for the Lord’s glory.

God who stretches out

the heavens like a curtain

makes kings seem as nought.

Like new plantings, sown,

taking root; God breathes on them.

They wither to dust.

None can equal God.

Look at the stars, how they shine;

God made, named each one.

O people of God,

surely you know that nothing

is hid from God’s eyes.

God is eternal,

beyond our comprehension;

the unsearchable.

God upholds the faint

and strengthens the powerless;

never grows weary.

Even youths will faint

and grow weary; and the young

will fall, exhausted.

Those who trust in God

shall rise on wings, like eagles,

They will not tire.

© Ken Rookes 2024

The tomb

Haiku of surprise

Stories of wonder

seeking to give shape and form

to deep mysteries.

Early on day one,

still dark, the Magdalene came,

to visit his tomb.

The large stone employed

as a door had been removed.

Mary is distressed.

She ran to tell them:

They have taken his body;

we do not know where.

It was as she said;

the tomb was empty, only

the linen remained.

Mary, weeping, stayed

at the tomb. Two angels asked:

Why are you weeping?

My Lord is taken.

I know not where he lies, or

what’s been done to him.

A stranger enquires:

Why do you weep? She asks him:

Tell me where he is.?

The man speaks: Mary!.

Her weeping eyes are opened.

Rabbouni! Teacher!

As per instructions

Mary found his disciples

I have seen the Lord!

The resurrection

reports begin; a woman

and an empty tomb.

© Ken Rookes 2021

Leviathan

Haiku for considering

Ah, Leviathan,

mythical beast of the sea,

disturbing our dreams.

Will you tie the beast

Leviathan, with a leash

that your girls might play?

Best not take him on,

Leviathan. He’s bigger

than you. God is too.

God, who created

great beasts and monsters; only

God calls them to heel.

Insignificant

Job, who are you to question,

the Almighty’s ways.

You are mighty, God;

mysterious, knowing all;

and I never knew.

Job answered the Lord.

Now I see you; now I know

better than to speak.

Forced to acknowledge,

God finally concedes, Yes

Job, you spoke the truth.

© Ken Rookes 2020

Posted in response to the Narrative Lectionary readings for the 5th Sunday after Pentecost.

And the word became flesh and lived among us

The Logos-word came,

so the story goes,

sharing light and truth and wonder

with us earth-folk;

receiving, in return,

the planet's dust and strife,

along with our tears, regrets and weariness.

Hardly a balanced transaction.

© Ken Rookes 2015

The word of God came to John

There must have been a number of them,

words, that is,
that drifted through the ether

to lodge themselves in the cranium of the prophet.

Repent, for one, springs quickly to mind.

It is an unfriendly word,

strident and uncompromising,

articulating its 'holier than thou' attitude

of judgement. Perhaps necessary;

all the same.

Prepare is friendlier;

along with the request

that we actually do something.

Prepare tantalises with its sense of expectation.

Something big is about to happen;

something wondrous and unprecedented.

Borrowing some more words

from the processes of creation

the prophet gets down to business.

The mountains will be razed, he tells us,

and the valleys filled!

Geologically improbable,

at least on the time scale

to which the prophet is working.

How many hundred million years would we need?

Get excited!

the prophet's hyperbole declares;

the Lord, (whoever he or she might be), is coming!

You may be present when she comes,

you may witness his arrival;

you may not,

but the hope embodied in this advent event

will be there for all humankind to see.

So get yourself ready.

Now!

© Ken Rookes 2015

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

Green, and full of life

 

Perhaps each new year

is a reincarnation of the last,
a recycling of failed days
and disappointing moments.

Throw the left-over frustrations,

the kitchen-scrap resentments,
unwanted stinging weeds and discarded
bitter clippings of the old year
into the cosmic compost bin.
Wait, then, for gentle processes
of judgement-warmth,
grace-filled mould,
welcoming worms
and the good bacteria of forgiving decomposition,
to be made complete,
reducing unpleasant corruption
to timely dark humus.

Spread it over the naked and freshly-dug year

with a quiet prayer;
trust in the divine unfolding
of seasons, sometimes painful,
always new,
and never quite expected.

Watch with wonder and delight

as hopeful shoots emerge to be nurtured,
green, and full of life.

© Ken Rookes

every day may we wonder at ourselves and the richness of life.

Julia Esquivel, Guatemalan poet,  prays this way:

Jesus said,
“You ought always to pray and not to faint.”
So we do not pray for easy lives;
we pray to be stronger women and men.
And we do not pray for tasks equal to our powers,
but for power equal to our tasks.
Then, the doing of our work will be no miracle
– we will be the miracle.
Every day may we wonder at ourselves
and the richness of life
which has come to us by the grace of God. Amen.

http://biteintheapple.com/midsummer-wisdom/

Let me see again

Let me see again

the blue sky gleaming gold day

when I saw the wonder of your grace.

Let me hear again

the words of love and hope

which make my spirit leap and shout.

Let me sing again

the song that soars beyond

the mean confinement of my thoughts.

Let me feel again

the cool wind of your Spirit,

causing me to shiver and stumble.

Let me dance again

the steps which ever surprise

as they rise towards the mystery.

Let me taste again

the cup of your discipleship

and weigh its bitter-sweet draught.

Let me reach again

to be embraced by love

and to share it with your friends.

Let me see again,

like at the first,

and let me follow with brother Bartimaeus

on the way.

© Ken Rookes

Beyondness

“[I believe] there is nothing more needed by humanity today …

than the recovery of a sense of “beyond-ness”

in the whole of life to revive the springs of wonder and adoration.”  John. V Taylor

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