“God with us,” or Emmanuel
“A
savior”
In
Hebrew called Joshua
In
Greek the name was Jesus
“The
chosen one”
In
Hebrew called Messiah
In
Greek named Christ
Jesus
Christ
The
Son of God
A
Jew Born in the Roman Empire
Given
by God to the world
For
two thousand years
Not
known by a Latin name
But known by all by his name in Greek
Bang!
Isn’t
that how it all began?
Scientists
tell us so
Like
the gospels
Darwin’s
disciples preach it
Talking
of the creation myth
And
the big bang theory
As
if a theory has more weight
Than
a myth
God
didn’t create the universe
They
say
But
science with its big bang
I
find it hard to believe
It
cannot be so
Science
cannot create a world
Or
a universe
They
can only end it
With
a big bang
Science
will ultimately destroy
What
they play with life like a toy
They
try to play god
With
their own creations
Science
gave us gun powder
Nuclear
weaponry
Choking
carbon monoxide
Acid
rain
Holes
in the ozone layer
I
believe in the creation
And
the creator
God
created us all
With
all our faults and frailties
And
god gave us great abilities
But
he also gave us reason
And
the common good sense when not to use them
Just
because we can do something
Doesn’t
mean that we should
I
believe god created a world to love
But
if it all began
With
that big bang
And
nothing existed
Before
that moment
Who
lit the match?
Who
pressed the button?
Who
flicked the switch?
That
caused the explosion
The
bang
The
ignition of life
In
all its forms
Perhaps
we are an experiment
In
some cosmic crucible
Or
the universe is contained
Within
a dirty goldfish bowl
Whose
water could imminently be refreshed?
It
doesn’t really matter
How
it started
Either
by the creation myth
Or
the big bang theory
The
argument is like the universe
A
question of balance
Good
and bad
Great
and small
Searing
heat and freezing cold
High
and low
There
has to be an opposite
To
give credence to either
All
I know of the universe
The
world
This
life
Is
its very special
Very
precious
And
finite
Which
begs another question?
How
will it end?
Will
it be with a
Bang!
Just standing in a palace doesn’t make you a Tsar
Any
more than standing in a garage makes you a car
It doesn’t
make you a cook if you stand in a kitchen
Pentecost Sunday is
The
Feast of Weeks
White
Sunday
Is
the fiftieth day
And
Marks the end
Of
Eastertide
Celebrating
the descent
Of
the Holy Spirit
Upon
the Apostles
And
all followers
Of
Jesus Christ
If not the lord
Then
what?
Raiki?
Yoga?
Or
feng shui
Worshiping
the elements
The
sun and the moon
A
return to chaos
Pagan
times
Before
the fisher of men
Cast
his net
If
not our lord
Then
who?
What
idol?
What
fad or fashion
Plastic
surgeons
The
new gods
De-toxing
And
colonic irrigation
Or
wannabee’s
Worshiping
celebrity
At
the altar of fame
If
not the Christ
Then
what?
Loss
of faith
Loss
of belief
But
they don’t stop believing
Because
they have a need
A
desperate need
To
believe in something
So,
they believe
In
everything and anything
Except
the risen Christ
Let God within your heart
Fill the void of darkness
Filled with love and joy
Let his love envelope
Your being
Let him bring light
Where dark once dwelt
Let him bring love
Where hate once ruled
Let him bring happiness
Where sadness held dominion
She is the Angel of the choir
She
is my only hearts desire
Her
voice fills me with rapture
A
voice as sweet as her nature
But
though I am in a state of bliss
I
could never hope for a single kiss
For
she is but a visitor from on high
An
angel fallen from the sky
No
mortal voice could so express
Each
note in perfect choral congress
She
is the Angel of the choir
She
is my only hearts desire
In
truth I know she is earthly born
But
nonetheless I am left forlorn
For
I have her upon a pedestal so high
That
even an angel fallen from the sky
When
on heavenly wings she flew
Would
be less exalted in my view
So,
I must watch my angel as she sings
As
my devoted heart grows wings
And
soars up high on her sweet melody
I
pray my angel will only sing for me
