Journey into Outer Grace

 Well, there’s no excuse.  I must be one of the most half-hearted bloggers on the planet.  Or else live a boring life!  No, that can’t be it.  We love our new home in Spokane, and my new job teaching fourth grade at Northwest Christian School is wonderful (albeit busy and tiring).  As we near Christmas, I thought I’d share this latest revision of a poem I’ve been working on since we were still in England.  Enjoy.

CITY ON THE HILL

A poem for the church of Jesus

The land, once fertile and lush with light–

A gorgeous paradise of earth

Which God had planted, granted life,

Abundantly flourished, revelled in birth:

Its light glowing in each glorious thing,

Its fragrance like spices distilling the air,

Its music softly chanting praise,

And the dancing of Eve and Adam there–

No more. It was ruined, barren, broken,

And only the stench of dying souls

Remained.  The beauty of Eden was marred

By Man wanting Maker to trade their roles.

Now gritty darkness buried the earth

And smothered peace from flowering here

The kingdom of the Accuser warred

Against the light and sought by fear

To keep the world his captive, blind

And numb, the prisoners of sin.

The world’s deceived: the night’s called day.

The devil thus invents his spin.

Yet over this beleaguered world

The Lord still holds his hallowed claim;

And heaven’s light is not made dim

Nor can the darkness quench God’s flame.

He gathered up His angels near

And sent his only Seed, that Blade

Of glittering truth, to tear through time

And space, descending to invade.

His shining Sword then plummeted to land

Disguised in flesh, for the day on a hill

That human Blade was betrayed & broken,

Despised on a Cross.  The earth, once still,

Now rocked and trembled.  Dead men rose,

Returning to life.  The buried Light

From sword to seed would germinate

To burst the earth and put to flight

The shadows in retreat.  Cross-seed

Became a Tree, an echo of

Old Eden’s tree of life, untasted;

But His pure fruit is immortal love.

On Golgotha, down through centuries

The Tree’s bright seeds have multiplied, grown

To make another Garden for the King,

A City on a Hill, of living stones

Defying the darkness by the grace of God,

She scatters the gospel’s seeds.  Her pride

Is Christ; His blood has paid the dowry;

She readies herself as His radiant Bride.

The fragrance once again is spread;

The festive music of grace is heard;

The dance of His people weaves around

And they see by the light of His powerful Word.

The City shines, exposed on the hill,

While blind billions of people pass by

And wander toward an eternal night.

Do the citizens grieve for them, and cry

For mercy, weep for wasted lives?

The same Spirit who restored their sight

Stirs them with a longing for the dying and the lost.

The Lord has opened the City’s gates wide!

The Gardeners go out with the seeds of the Tree

And walk down the hill, the plain to roam,

To love and name a nameless soul;

To plant a gleaming path to Home.

Within her walls the Orphans find

Their Father; the Lame learn how to walk;

The Lechers live for the pleasure of Christ

And the softened Cynics no longer mock.

                                

The proud are humbled, the last is first;

The empty are filled; the barren, blessed;

The walls of this City are truth and love;

And the Tree of Life gives all true rest.

(c) 2007 Brian Huseland.