|"Branches in the Snow" acrylic on canvas 4'x5' 1982|
And after life after life of dark silence
He emptied himself into nature.
Quite suddenly, The Branch poked up
through the blanket of the universe -
Shot up green and fresh,
One warm week in December.
And there He was - naked and tiny
Born to live, then to die.
Slashed down and killed off
For each of us. For our missing the point
Our bad intentions, and good ones.
For our belief in Christmas instead of Easter.
And here we are here
To remember how He burst out like spring
Shed his dead skin for new and back into
His fullness and calls us there too.
So now He speaks: He is The way, The life,
The truth. And he waits to hear us cry
to him like newborn babes in need of living.
He's right here, ready, if we're ready to be forgiven.
by Lorenda Harder
Isaiah 11:1, Jn 4:25-26;14:6, 1 Jn 2:22, Rom. 3:25; Heb 2:17