Take one thousand years, the ones etched in all hearts
the longest forever’s, the keepsakes, life’s parts.
Then empty the chambers of all that pulls back
what hides and winds secrets of pain and love’s lack.
Lord, these are the hearts that most dearly need you
The broken, the suffering, the lives lived deep through.
My own just as all, pressed with trials darkly set
Taken, lost, shaken from night’s epithet.
Oh Heart, carve a place for forgiveness to dwell.
Let the past fall to Now in His Mercy’s groundswell.
May each come to bare in the innocence of
a sweetness that comforts with Limitless Love.
Thousand years to forever we all join the fore
Emboldened, entrusted to walk through God’s Door.
Bare me, Lord dare me; I would walk, I would do…
All in your namesake, Lord. Lead us to You.
© 2017, 2015 Linda Willows
This magnificent Fresco depicts the entry into Jerusalem of Christ Jesus. The painter is Pietro Lorenzetti. see Wikipedia Commons for information
It is difficult to imagine rejoicing at the thought of Palm Sunday as we reflect upon the procession of Jesus to Jerusalem where He would be judged for the Crucifixion yet Bible verse and insight from both the Old Testament and the New Testament find His Spirit speaking a deeper message to us even in this procession to His Death at the Cross.
Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
righteous and having salvation is he,
humble and mounted on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
In a sermon offered by C.H.Spurgeon at the Metroplitan Tabernacle in Newington in 1891…
“His entrance caused great joy. No man’s heart was made heavy that day. The face of the King frowned on none. Other kings have found it needful to force their way through crowds of rebels to their capital, and wade through slaughter to a throne; but none was found to hurt or devour in all the holy mountain when Jesus came to Zion. Women have been ravished, men have been murdered, even babes have been massacred when monarchs have entered cities; but when our King cometh, boughs and palm fronds, shouts and songs, are the setting of a very different scene. Instead of shrieks and groans, we hear the ringing music of children, with their glad Hosannas. Oh, will you not admit the Lord Jesus? Who will refuse an entrance to One who brings with him joy and peace?
He shall come down like showers
Upon the fruitful earth;
Love, joy, and hope, like flowers,
Spring in his path to birth.”
I encourage you to read the sermon offered in its entire:
Charles Spurgeon Sermon; The Lords-day, morning March 22nd 1891
“Praying that the Holy weeks bring you near to The Lord, that His Grace fill your hearts, lives and worlds ( both inner and outer). Praying further that we each find the Gladness of Love and it’s holy reach to joy and hope on our own paths to birth.” LWillows
I must fire the storm and let the rain pour.
I cannot hold still or lie down anymore.
A dance in me is burning my muse…
Hidden, sleeping, like an untouched long fuse.
It is painful to move; for too long, life unused.
I stir to wake, or forever to lose.
Lord, break all apart until this heart starts.
Thunder the veins that would seem to depart.
Let me dance through the glass and the red fallen post.
Clear the halls that are filled with her irradiate ghost.
Let all the called winds bring Your heavenly Host
And find muse fired in skies that light Your Beauty most.
Mark all the Told and invoke the birthed New.
Let all that is Sacred claim this Motion’s Due.
Leaping all into the arms of Your Love’s Evermore,
Let the Godly fall in and and sweet Grace Rainstorms Pour.
©2016 rewrite Linda Willows, original 2012
My heart does joy in His Love’s near embrace…
Empties all in confess before sweet Holy’s Face.
Such marveled Adore, my all seized by Thee…
This birth in galore, I am Adoptee.
Holy instant thunders witness of moment’s true Grace;
Seals atonement’s decree throughout Covenant trace.
Heart lifted of sin, in immortal unlock.
Through Jesus, Salvation, our Pillar, the Rock.
Oh heart share this joy, I am to be Blessed,
Ecstatic love humbles; God’s door has been pressed.
© Linda Willows 2016, original 2014