On the Cross Our Sins Christ Carried (Baptism Hymn)

I've shared on this blog before a few of my original hymn texts, but there are many I've written that I haven't shared. The 4th hymn text I wrote was for a hymn for use at Baptisms, and I think the time has come to finally put it up here. You can find the text below, but let me explain why today is the perfect day to share it.

God Calls to Us, Says “Here am I.”

God calls to us, says “Here am I.”
       Reveals Himself to us by grace.
“Keep to yourself! Do not draw nigh.”
       Our answer provokes to God's face.
“I am too holy” we go on,
       “Too holy for you.” to God say.
Our own devices drive us on
       To reject God, send Him away.

What holiness is this we name?
       Our hearts pour out their lust and pride.
What virtue do we say we claim?
       Our tongues lash out to curse and lie.
What love gives proof of sanctity?
       Our love of self and perverse wants.
What peace shows forth our unity?
       Our peace that rings out jeers and taunts.

If God had left us in our sin
       Imprisoned in our unbelief,
On judgment day how great a din
       Of wailing we would sound in grief.
God's fury He would on us spend
       To pay us our deservèd wage.  
The truth we then would apprehend      
       In endless torment ne'er assuaged.

But God in flesh Himself revealed
       To call unto Himself His own.
And though rejected, light revealed
       By which our darkness is well shown.
Yet in our disobedience crass,
       To which God binds all men by Law,
God shows His mercy on the cross
       From whence forgiveness flows to all.

What here revealed is wondrous grace:
       That though God's wrath we well deserve,
Christ bore this wrath--died in our place--
       So unto life God us reserves.
His sob'ring Word God speaks to us
       Lest we forget our source of life,
And spurn the grace God gives to us
       That saves us from our sin and strife. 

[Fall 2012]

Our Fallen World Is Steeped in Sin (Or, An Inadvertent Hymn Limerick)

Our fallen world is steeped in sin
Surrounding us, without, within.
       Our own strength fails,
       Will not avail
To 'gainst the curse the battle win.

Yet some think that they can attain
To holiness which life them gains.
       With hard'ning hearts,
       They set apart
Themselves as free from sinful stain.

Upon the Law do they rely
And place their hope to curse deny.
       Yet shows their deaths
       The curse's breadth
For from the Law their works belie.

Where our own strength is worthless shown
God makes His pow'r in weakness known:
       Christ, crucified,
       In weakness died,
His blood shed to our sin atone.

Though free from sin and curse's blame
Christ spurned not cross and curse became.
       In dying thus,
       Christ redeemed us,
And by this sin's curse overcame.

Set free from self-reliant ways,
We now on Christ do fix our gaze.
       We need not fear,
       For faith sees here,
The strength for everlasting days.

[2013]

Faith rest

[I wrote this based on the submission theme "Faith" for a magazine, but I ultimately decided not to submit it. I remembered it a few days ago and thought I might as well post it here]

~~~~~~~

I believe

                 in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.

And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord. . .

Five months ago, I sat under this same tree at the edge of the cemetery.

“Daddy! Daddy! I can’t get down!” the girl screamed.

Her bright red jacket matched the leaves falling from the trees,

but this leaf didn’t want to fall and was hanging on with all her life.

“DADDY!”

“How did you get there?” her father asked mirthfully, running to his crying daughter.

“Jump and I’ll catch you.”

The screaming wind carried her laughter to me as she smiled

and threw herself backwards off the playground.

Leaves swirled as he spun with her laughing in his arms.

. . .was crucified, died and was buried. . .

Now I stand under the leafless tree.

The playground is empty as I watch them

lower her casket into the snow-covered ground.

. . .The third day He rose again from the dead. . .

As I turn to leave, the wind blows the snow

and I see a white crocus against the revealed ground.

. . .the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.

[March 14, 2014]

Triptych

I.

I say I want to know;

my idol, pride, beckons;

but knowing means death.

When deeds are my greatest wisdom,

I am an actor seeking reality

I say I want to know.

I hunt after myself

to know where to direct my aim,

but knowing means death.

Ambition consumes the fruit

of my potential

I say I want to know.

I realize my potential

and know the harvest banquet of myself,

but knowing means death.

I feast on my realized self,

and taste the achievement

I say I want to know.

I strip my drying bones clean

to nourish the renown I know,

but knowing means death.

Broken bones show experience

of wounds from brave deeds

I say I want to know.

What lasts of these brave deeds?

A crippled skeleton knows,

and knowing means death.

I want to know myself,

and experience my merit.

I say I want to know,

but knowing means death.

II.

Now I have eyes to see

that the mirror shows my dry bones,

as I meet the one who kills and makes alive.

He holds the mirror and shoves

eyeballs into my vacant skull so

now I have eyes to see.

His commands tell me to stand, and how,

but I lack muscles to raise myself

as I meet the one who kills and makes alive.

I cannot stand to honor my Judge, yet

I see Him bow to judgment

now I have eyes to see.

The Judge strikes my crimes from the record

while He is stricken to death

as I meet the one who kills and makes alive.

He was raised up in death,

and I see Him raised up to life

now I have eyes to see.

His now scarred hands do what I cannot

and raise me up to His side

as I meet the one who kills and makes alive.

From His side flow blood and water

as I see Him give me His own body

now I have eyes to see.

Given life in the water,

I am saved to have breath

as I meet the one who kills and makes alive.

He gives me ears to hear

the Word that creates life.

Now I have ears to hear

the One who kills and makes alive.

III.

He loves to tell me,

and, rather than be heard,

now I want to listen.

He has claimed me as His treasured possession

by giving me to bear His name

He loves to tell me

“To be owned an object of affection is better,”

says the widow to me

now I want to listen.

He has adopted me as His child

and bathes and dresses me in forgiveness

He loves to tell me.

“Being a dependent is better,”

says the orphan to me

now I want to listen.

He is proud to identify the resemblance:

“You surely look like my Son,”

He loves to tell me.

The shamed fear being accused and hide,

but identify themselves when they recognize

now I want to listen.

He wants to listen to me,

and give me the answer of “Yes”

He loves to tell me.

The muted humble ask again

for aid I past deafly rejected, yet

now I want to listen.

“I free you from your solitary coffinment

and give you Myself and others to love and serve.”

He tells me in love,

and now I want to listen.

[2013]

In Love Christ Shed His Tears

Yesterday was a good day. Yesterday, I got to see a hymn I had written in print for the first time in the Winter 2014 issue of Lutheran Forum. (The hymn text is included as the end of this post if you have limited time and need/want to skip my ramblings on my hymnwriting journey to this point)

Walking to choir practice

Parallel to the river of water
the sidewalk proceeds
from my door, pointing
my feet directly toward my aim.
But seventy paces are turned aside
by the black river
with speeding rapids driving past
in a swift stream of unfordable Fords
whose chattering wheels rage
a rushing gush of hurried hum.

Craft share

Once a month
we would fill the shoebox
with scissors.

Where these scissors went
the rest of the time
is an enduring mystery.
Somehow, they'd escape
leaving a pair of sentries
volunteering to be left alone,
and we'd hunt them again.

Throwing Slowly

I broke my arm throwing once.

It was twisted
apart into dueling shards.

Spiral fractures funnel eyes to pointed gaze
searching for trauma, abuse, violence;
wanting to disbelieve
the strength of one's arm
can overthrow the thrower.

Where duty's demand and desire meet

Where duty’s demand and desire meet,
harmonizing freedom and coercion,
lies the intersection where my conceit
dies as your needs cause my wants’ conversion.

One road seeks naught but fulfillment espied
in objects of lust yielding happiness.
This lengthening road, eroded by pride,
leaves wanderers lost in their selfishness.

The other rends what should conjoined remain
as exaction extracts the bitterness
of failing actors, who failings they blame
on others alone, themselves lone distressed.

Where duty’s demand and desire meet,
Love lives with forgiveness and joy complete.

[January 12, 2014]

Tangram No. 7

Completing one project creates a new beginning.

One beginning project creates a new completing.

Project completing creates beginning a new one.

Creates one new project: completing a beginning.

A new one completing beginning creates project.

New creates one project completing a beginning.

Beginning creates a project completing one new.

Tangram No. 6

Connecting beginning to accomplishment is hard work.

Beginning accomplishment is connecting to hard work.

To work hard connecting, beginning is accomplishment.

Accomplishment is connecting hard to beginning work.

Is hard work connecting beginning to accomplishment?

Hard connecting to work is beginning accomplishment.

Work is connecting to hard accomplishment beginning.

Tangram No. 5

Success through trying until failure teaches clarity.

Through clarity, failure teaches trying until success.

Trying through failure until clarity teaches success.

Until trying teaches clarity, success through failure.

Failure through trying teaches clarity until success.

Teaches clarity through failure: trying until success.

Clarity through trying teaches failure until success.

Tangram No. 4

Genius solutions are made by limited resources.

Solutions are limited resources made by genius.

Are solutions made by genius resources limited?

Made resources are limited by genius solutions.

By genius resources are solutions made limited.

Limited solutions are genius made by resources.

Resources by limited solutions are made genius.

Tangram No. 3

Thinking up puzzles to exercise the mind.

Up to thinking exercise, the mind puzzles.

Puzzles exercise up the mind to thinking.

To the exercise: thinking up mind puzzles.

Exercise the puzzles to up mind thinking.

The thinking mind puzzles to exercise up.

Mind puzzles to up the thinking exercise.

Tangram No. 2

Mine to discover where you have not.

To not discover, mine where you have.

Discover where you have to not mine.

Where have you not mine to discover?

You have to discover where mine not.

Have mine to not discover where you.

Not mine: Where you have to discover.

Tangram No. 1

Using creativity is exhausting all the options.

Creativity is using all the exhausting options.

Is using the options exhausting all creativity?

Exhausting creativity is using all the options.

All using is creativity exhausting the options.

The all exhausting creativity is using options.

Options exhausting all the using is creativity.

[July 18, 2014]

Honesty

I'm going to waste some of your time
With enough words
As from both faces of a hypocrite.

From painted mouth there flies forth painted word
Whose meaning flutters at the speaker's will;
For it is not the truth meant to be heard,
But skylark's saccharine song to scrutiny still.
Loquacious lips spill swill when spitting out
A draft they call fine wine whilst whining pour
Forth libel labeled truth, and loosely spout
Off hearsay heard about those they abhor.
From veneered sneer shoots rhetoric born of spite,
Unquivered from a loudly quivering tongue
That snaps off barbs to strung-up crowds incite,
Who, thus directed, will themselves be stung.
We silence fear, but truth has no such fright;
'Tis better not to speak than lie and blight.

Where “Yes” means not “Yes,”
Or, likewise, “No” means not “No,”
Language lies murdered.

Language is an ever growing tree--
Growing to feed mouths and fill books' leaves.
Branches hold us up as we find store
Of descriptions of all we explore.
Language has a growing canopy,
But, unseen, its roots must stronger be,
To uphold the weight of flow'ring words,
And invented passing language birds.
Where we sever branch from rooted trunk,
There we lose stability and plunk
Into treacherous shadowlands of sound,
Where confounding meaning may abound.
Here deception sounds the same as truth,
For there is no way by which to sleuth
And determine if both ears agree
What the word they hear purports to be.
Severed language leads to only loss
Of all truth and meaning, into gloss,
Which, though sounding wise, leads to chaos,
And results in only spectral dross.

When word play deceives
It is not the words that lie--
They mean what they say.

How to distort a text:

1. Create a pretext
2. Ignore the context
3. Insert a subtext
4. Keep clear meaning suppressed
5. Accept no protest
6. Ensure distortion stays impressed

I misspeak or err.
You gently correct or ask
Clarification.

The writer slips and paper cuts
To cause ill-chosen words to bleed.
The reader sees clear sign of stain,
That hint that there is more to read.
Instead of salving writer's wound
And seek to heal the pain-filled source,
They cause the writer mortal guilt,
And, frenzied, feed on the remorse.

Communication:
It requires practice and thought,
Often forgotten.

I speak to you a window to my mind,
But all you see is opaque glass
And, thus, no meaning find.
You ask for me to make the window clear.
I scrub the glass to clarity
That lets you message hear.

Listen patiently.
Speak plainly.
Tell the truth
Or be quiet.


[July 20, 2013]

The Plucked Bloom

The wind breathes fair,
and the lone flower, shy,
turns her face to share
beauty’s art with passersby.

But passerby, brash,
his lone need makes presume
to fair shyness thrash
and savagely pluck the bloom.

The wind gusts rue
as whisper lone leaves
dripping raindrops’ blue dew
to lost blossoming grieve.

Then passerby, Time,
drying bitterness’ tears,
beams upon summer’s prime,
rays of hope melting fears.

The wind breathes new
and fresh blossoms rustling sing
forth new growth from pruning's hew;
beauty healing the pain of spring.

[May 6, 2014]

See How He Loves Us

Suggested Hymn Tune: HERZLIEBSTER JESU

Moved to compassion, Jesus started weeping

Outside the tomb which Laz’rus’ corpse was keeping.

The Jews who saw this were then moved to speaking:

“See how He loved him!”

“Father, forgive them.” We hear Jesus crying

As He is hanging on the cross and dying;

Bearing our sin and to us life supplying.

See how He loves us!

Viewing Christ’s death we see love’s definition;

Acting to save us of his own volition

Though we deserved it not, won sin’s remission.

See how He loves us!

[Nov 2013]