I do not claim to be a poet. I’m really a rather poor one. But sometimes a poem seems to be the only medium by which certain thoughts and praises can be wrestled into being. Journeying for the first time through the tradition of Lent has made me think again of Eve and how she, of all people, embodied the ache and longing for redemption. I often wonder about her life, her and Adam’s being the first fallen lives of men…and how keenly they must have felt the tragedy of sin that we now so often belittle.
The conversations that Eve must have had with God, her prayers, petitions, and wonderings…I think sometimes we are prone to envision a life of utter turmoil in separation from God for Adam and Eve after they were banished from the Garden of Eden. But this would be out of character for our Savior. Indeed, the first act of God after their sin was to call to them…and then to clothe them—to cover the shame they had chosen over unhindered relationship with their Creator. I believe that Christ’s redemptive work began the moment Eve ate of the forbidden fruit, that His pursuit of our fallen hearts originated within the walls of Eden. We have never been without the invitation from God to draw near.
As we anticipate the celebration of Easter, we should dwell and relish within the reality that what sin destroyed, Jesus has made whole. That what once separated us from God is now torn away because of Christ’s perfect sacrifice. We should rejoice that passover is now made communion…communion with our very God…for eternity.
All praise be to Him.
Communion
You offered me fruit
Of the knowledge
Of death
In all of its fascination
And shrouded depths,
A chasm so deep that only the gods were
Entrusted with the sight of it
Why did I grasp?
Why did I desire such knowing?
Was it not enough to know
Communion with my Creator?
You offered me a life
So singular
I couldn’t look away.
What is life if not lived free?
Freedom to choose…to partake
Of all we were never formed to be.
Of all He alone could carry.
You…or was it me?
That deceived my soul
And fed such lustrous lies
There to my own flesh,
To my own Adam’s heart
To nourish him.
I kissed his mouth to mine, for wasn’t he...forever mine?
He called to us,
Our eyes locked in fear,
Our first shared knowing.
Such knowledge…is too great
We could not know how to bear it.
You caught a branch, and stripped it bare
To cover there our nakedness.
His eyes shone so bright
They dripped with tears
Too brilliant and too full of knowledge
For me to ever bear.
He asked us why.
Our new hearts faltered, became as stone.
You blamed me, and I blamed him.
He touched a stag
It stumbled down.
Not wounded, dead.
Blood, red and thick stained the ground,
Pooled about our naked feet.
From this, He clothed us,
Covering the shame we freely claimed.
You touched my skin,
Pressed your body against mine
As you’d done a thousand times…
Only now I knew I’d never be
Enough.
And you…would never satisfy
The ache in my bones for eternity.
Our son destroyed my son.
His blood, red and thick stained
My hands.
My flesh held my flesh against
My heart. We clothed him
In earth, in the work of our hands.
I cried to God to bear him home.
Another son I bore,
And You spoke to me his name.
Through him You would come
And bear away my shame,
This knowledge…too wonderful for me…
You alone would carry, up upon a tree
Stripped bare to bear Your body.
Why would You grasp?
Why would You desire…
Why tear away the veil
And commune again with a fallen people?
My breath faltered
The breath You freely gave…
Is it finished? What
I barely dared to ask,
You boldly whispered back
Would be Yours forever to proclaim
Over death and over strife,
Over all the knowledge I had gained.
Why would You resolve
Why would You redeem
Why would You bear
Away all this, my chosen guilt?
Except for communion, Oh My God,
Except for this:
Your never-ending love.
Amazing! You are a wonderful poet and storyteller, a great gift from the Lord.
That is beautiful! Thank you for sharing!