In writing this morning’s poem, I realized that I have come to hold some of it’s ‘observations’ as facts.; when , in fact, they are observations. Aaah, the lovely thing about Jesus; He holds each story unique. May you feel the power of his reading of your story, and writing you into his own. J
I reality, I have been ‘writing’ this poem for years, pondering the imperatives we bring to God when we ask for healing. The woman who was bleeding: what happened in the twelve long years leading up to the moment in which she finally reached out and touched Jesus’ robe, and He felt the power of faith go out? I recognize that thoughts of peaceful and breathing midst our current picture of Covid 19 seem mutually exclusive. If you are experiencing pain and personal loss as a result of Covid, I cannot begin to speak into your story in the moment. Only Jesus…
When we received confirmation from the genetics clinic, of a diagnosis for our seven year old daughter’s disability, our other children were 11, 13 and 14. They had some questions: “What does this mean?” “Well…if Jesus healed her, would he change everything?”
Puzzles
Where are the disciples? Has anyone seen Thaddeus…Andrew, James, John
? Did any come with leprosy. Who brought them? After how many seasons in quarantine??
? Did some wait sun-up to sun-down and into first light, like refugees, lined up with diseases like displacement and poverty, the adverse experience of terror
? Did Matthew really mean all: he was a numbers keeper, you know:
“soon the people were bringing all their sick to be healed and all who touched him were healed.”
? Was there a panic, what if I can’t get there in time?
? Did anyone get sunburned, lying in the marketplace.
? What questions did the children ask ? What answers were they given
? Did people talk to the beggars – or were they considered ‘unclean’ And at the end of the day?
? Did anyone, listening to the stories, sneak away to the harbor, freshly healed—to attempt walking on water. This I would really like to know…
? Were some taken aback at transformations; others’ ills completely unknown. Not just acquaintances, but family members, friends…
? Were the newly healed, newly clothed. By what method?
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. Isaiah 61:10 ESV
? what did healing look like. The way things were before, or did God’s kingdom coming in the Healer Jesus bring a new normal
? did old scars go away – the jagged lines disappear
? Does Jesus see me
? Who is He – really…………………………………………………who will I say that He is?
One response that you could make to this post, is to share your heart’s awareness of the names of organizations/nonprofits that you feel are carrying out the healing ministry of Jesus Christ. Thanks…j
The poor, the old, the infirm were common to the marketplace in Jesus’ day. So were people who looked industrious – spinning, sculpting, bartering. And laborers arriving each day, looking for work. It is easy to overlook the pain another might be in, unless he/she chooses to tell us. Some shout it loudly but without clarity, for many to hear; others say nothing at all. While it is easy for us to make quick judgements, what was perhaps most unique in the presence of Jesus was that he knew, and still knows, the pain each of us is in, with or without our telling. I believe he invites this intimacy of story. On this day, however, the people invited Jesus to talk first, “Let us just touch your robe, simply that will make us well!” Their humble, though ramped-up asking of permission, must have started many an interesting conversation. Jesus responded. I wonder if the villagers not only saw Jesus, but also their neighbors differently that day.
Jerusalem Market by Elizabeth Figgie
Looking for Lentils
Husband, we are out of lentils
I traipsed early this market day,
before the sun went steep.
The market wavered before my eyes
miraging people who usually
‘take up space.’
It was not the glaring sun, no, that gave them new dimension
but the shadow of Jesus. I am certain of this.
Lentils I have forgotten.
I thought to buy goat
Oy, that dry old butcher is so gruff (though his lamb the most tender)
He was not there, his carcasses left hanging.
His young wife Abishah is sick – they say
for more than a year. Six children…
He left town at a run…is what they say.
We will feast on goat another time.
Looking for iron…the tool for your plow.
The Skeptic’s in his usual corner…
Offers plenty of opinion, he does, with his high prices.
Well-smithed, his tools! But unfeeling is he…
Today, he was joking
instead of kibitzing.
I went to market looking for news
well, gossip really
My friend sits with the potters;
gossip I got. She said
“I only sold two pots today…two pots!
Still, I’d take rampant joy over coins any day.”
Joy…perhaps she is lonely like me.
All those pot-makers… Who knew?
Jesus – how can he make things so different?
Melons and baubles dropped obsolete.
Olives an afterthought.
On display today—
patience, kindness, goodness.
That rascal Enosh carried Merari
all the way from far hill. They say
he found him, fallen in the ravine
on his way to barter grain.
Enosh usually has time for no one.
I wonder what changed…
And Rahab’s daughter, she is often out of town.
Aloof
She rarely comes to market…
at least not this one.
She waited here with the rest of us
quiet, no harm in that,
after we heard Jesus was on his way.
Blind Ezer’s parents – every market
they kneel and pray
At day’s end, I saw them walking
walking minus their usual basket of chicken and fruit
Ezer was not with them.
First time I have ever seen them standing tall…
And the children. Husband, the children
You know how they play in the giant sycamore?
Nothing… they were all hanging on Jesus today
dancing at his skirts.
“Jadon, Jadon, our friend Jadon. His leg is shrivelled…shriveled like a stick.
Touch him…touch him, Jadon!!! I bet you could run real quick…”
“And when they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret. And when the men of that place recognized him, they sent around to all that region and brought to him all who were sick and implored him that they might only touch the fringe of his garment. And as many as touched it were made well.”
? for reflection: How are your current circumstances changing the way you view others? Yourself?
? How might inviting the Healer Jesus into the picture, change your perspective?
Little Miss Sweetness and I took to the woods. Some of us are occasionally creeping out to isolated places concerned that to not do so might bear worse consequences than our exposure to the elements. We brought back a message for any who need to hear it.
h is for ‘hello’
h is for hello: We are your woods, growing still because some wise individuals collaboratively discerned that you would need us. May you have wise individuals still. You are not here; we have noticed. That is okay. We are practicing being: being green, flashing our native color, and growing, after winter’s semi-hibernation. And we are taking an arguably needed sabbath rest. We are all in this together…
Do not worry. You will return to the woods once more; the Douglas fir and hemlock will be waiting, sentinels for your return.
love letters in the sand
love letters in the sand: the nematodes and copepods are dancing;
we will be so*excited!!!to see you~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today was just hard—
In spite of having what we need of food and projects and space, I felt blue – that unsettling mix of thankful and sad. It was sad, to see cars in people’s yards with fresh ‘for sale’ signs. Demoralizing to see a SWAT team at the foodbank in a rural county. It feels heavy to hear of friends’ struggles to homeschool for the first time without the benefit of distance, the perspective that one’s children will survive. In reality, many of you have been teaching your children from day one. They will bloom because of and in spite of you. They will benefit from your efforts, but they will survive in large part because of God’s mercy, and his bold creative design that gave us curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. Our brains LOVE having problems to solve.
On the other hand, our hearts were built for nurture – of bodies and other beings.
the nurture tree
I wonder how many living, growing things this stump has nurtured – seedlings to saplings to trunks. An army or two of ants. Squirrels, lichens, ferns. It appears that we have been taking nurture for granted: teachers, transit drivers, nurses. When I was growing up (about a hundred years ago) the school cooks made sweet rolls for the teachers on meat and gravy day. Now the cooks and librarians are packing lunches and shipping them on the short bus to a neighborhood down the road. I wonder if school levies will pass more readily now; teacher salaries go up? Truck drivers, and maintenance workers and the kid at the pizza shop. Volunteers, and anyone who whistles or sings. In January, there was an article in the Week magazine, “Bad bosses: Will they ever reform?” This month, my friend’s boss is giving her unmandated hazard pay, because she is grateful for her staff, and wants to nurture their being…
My friend Nancy says, never waste a crisis. We are learning that some of our collective strength is found in the least celebrated places, and in our willingness to try something new; in being creative, and being brave. Everyone I know is tired, because we are all working hard to feed the cells of society; sending pipelines of aide up and down the stories of real, or imagined, class.
We are also being more honest, about when we are frightened and lonely and sad. We are wearing cloth and paper masks, but we’ve taken off some of the invisible ones we used to hide behind. Donning gloves, but looking for new ways to touch each other.
bleeding heart
I believe in us, in the Creator’s God’s design that imbedded his image, creativity and nurture and sacrifice.
‘You will return to the woods once more; the Douglas fir and hemlock will be waiting, sentinels for your return.’
They will have grown. perhaps so will we.
jfig 4/2020
To my regular readers; I apologize for the radio silence. Poem 20 has been a challenge, both it and the fig fam needs refuse to stay within the necessary margins for concentration and productivity…everything keeps popping out at the seams. Just want to let you know that I have not given up on the poems or you.
Dear Reader, Today’s poem is from the perspective of one who arrived by boat. disclaimer: At times, I have noted that while the vernacular of those who make their living from the sea, or in healthcare, may be crudely apt, it is no less reverent.
The scripture referenced in stanza 7 has provided critical navigation in times when I have felt repeatedly and perplexingly hungry, food in front of me. jfig
When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored to the shore. And when they got out of the boat, the people immediately recognized him and ran about the whole region and began to bring the sick people on their beds to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he came, in villages, cities, or countryside, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and implored him that they might touch even the fringe of his garment. And as many as touched it were made well. Mark 6:53-56 ESV
Three weeks ago, our pastor Christian Lindbeck spoke about living through unprecedented times by this truth: as Jesus followers, we are set free to love, not by arriving, but by walking, step by singular step, in the company of the Holy Spirit. http://www.hcbellingham.com/sermons/called-equipped-and-set-free-to-love-like-jesus/ (mins 55-60)
Galations 5:25 “If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.”
I am struck again, Lord Jesus, by the fact that you keep presenting yourself to us – to taste, to feel, to touch – your broken body, your proven suffering and scars, your wearied robe. Do you know that we aren’t allowed to touch stuff in museums? And that we get impatient when kids tug our skirts? You present yourself to us, for grimy fingertips, and the rare bottle of expensive perfume. Today we pause, to see you, not just the insistent need that we bring, but you. Tell us your story – the one in the garden, or the one at the tomb, or even the one with breakfast on the beach. We will try to sit still, long enough to hear your voice. J
This poem was inspired by conversations with our twenty-somethings midst the Covid 19 outbreak. I caught a glimpse of what is to come in the handing-off of the torch. I dedicate this poem to my redneck brother (the brawny voiceover) and my servant leader SIL, Cheryl; who in very different ways, do a lot of carrying.
‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me. Matthew 25:37b-40
for anyone who has ever loved and hoped for a sick child
Was anyone six
who lay on a bed
bruised and broken
afore he had…
lived?
First trip to market—
or do child and corner already belong
claimed by a cup
where alms trickle across his palm
(instead of caterpillars)
Did someone tell a story?
Who first
Jesus or lad,
imagination’s energy quite different
from one small.sickly.frame
Is mother at home?
heart shackled to his side
hope her companion
she – begging
for life
Did Jesus speak?
some have heard these words
“I know what she needs…”
“She is merely asleep.”
“Rise up and walk.”
“No one sinned.”
“I might be glorified” through
one small.child’s.dance
What did the child hear?
“Shhh…it’s our secret…”
pound right here
Did he remind Jesus of seven
hide-n-seek in the crowd
the game of a thousand temple questions?
hammer and nails…
hammer and nails…
There are bumps and bruises to be had
I must be about my Father’s business
hammer and nails…
Was anyone six?
did Jesus hold back a grin
for another tale to be told?
what hearts did he heal
as child clambered up…
Finish the market piggyback—
Does this not offend?
Child swagger
grounded
in hanging on to a bigger hem.
jfig 4/2020
Dear Reading Friend,
This poem took me on a lot of tangents. In following them, I stumbled onto ideas I’d never considered before, so it was worth the journey. Thank you for joining me.
Questions to ponder:
? In what way is Jesus inviting you to ‘hang on, childlike, to the hem of his garment?
? We are often reminded to ‘have childlike faith.’ In what ways do children uniquely image their creator?
The poem references these passages: Mark 5:35-43; John 9:3; Matthew 18:3; Ephesians 5:1. You can access scriptures at https://www.blueletterbible.org/
Also, I lost a day somewhere…I’m not going to worry too much about that. If you are still on day 15, we are not lost from each other, nor hopefully from the one who is leading the way. jfig
Would that we could all escape down some private alley
to first fix ourselves before meeting the feet of Jesus.
Not so…
it is Jesus we need
Lots cast, our stained hands
grasp his sacred robe.
We run toward
the one who barters for our souls.
Carry each other—to the cross.
Humble distance
to bear shame
toward one—burden bearer
powerful enough to carry
shame’s tangled sham away forever.
I am no longer ‘for sale.’
Jesus has paid the price.
jfig 3/2020
Dear Friend,
I believe that Jesus has the power to transform one’s life in whatever way is needed. Isaiah 61 is a beautiful passage about his intent toward us: his gifts of freedom and the outcome of God’s power to renew us and give us a place of purpose in his kingdom.
Isaiah 61:1-3. “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor, he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord that he may be glorified.” You can read the entire passage here: “Isaiah 61:1 (ESV) – The Spirit of the Lord.” Blue Letter Bible. Web. 15 Apr, 2020. <https://www.blueletterbible.org/esv/isa/61/1/s_740001>.
1)This poem touches on topics of shame, which one experiences both because of choices that one has made, and as a result of what others have done. I believe that Jesus comes to the marketplaces of Gennesaret in our lives to set us free from either. This is my prayer for all of us.
Jesus Healer, this poem touches on places of pain in us: wounds that bleed, and heavy pulling scars. We believe you have the power to heal. Heal us we pray, from the pain and shame that we drag around with us. We have landed here at your cross, our only safe place for letting go. We love you. We trust you.
You invite us to sin no more. We acknowledge sin’s destructive power and ask for growing strength to be new Jesus-kingdom people, to grow in the righteousness and beauty of your healing intent. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen
jfig 3/2020
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, English Standard Version, copyright 2001, 2007, 2011, 2016 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Roasted Words 