Against the Certainties of the Axe

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse. (Isaiah 11:1)

In a season when tidy visions of peace can feel distant from real grief and fracture, this prayer seeks a more honest Advent hope.

God of Unlikely Beginnings,

The haze of snow globe panoramas
taunts our eyes-
wolves and lambs napping together;
calf and lion—
wild and domestic—
kicking up their heels in shared fields;
cows and bears nose to nose
munching grass honeyed by morning dew;
a baby in a manger?
kings bowing down in a barn
while sheep chew their cud?

Where amid the arrogant snarls
of a carnivorous world
do such wise ones dwell?

Guide us, God-child,
to your Advent arboretum.
Teach us how to refute
the death-dealing certainties of the axe.

Touch with your healing hand
what is raw, neglected,
discarded, dying in our souls.
Untame our spirits.
Stir undomesticated courage
in inner wasteland places.
Cultivate within our hearts
your improbable peace

Amen.

Grow, Green Sprig of Jesse, Grow

A shoot shall come out of the stump of Jesse,
 and a branch shall grow out of his roots. . .

Another Advent Porch light poem based on Isaiah 11:1-10

PHOTO BY SHEILA HUNTER, USED BY PERMISSION

We have followed the porch light
to the house on the mountain
See the plowshares and pruning hooks?

Grow, green sprig of Jesse, grow.

“Sow life into rocky ground;
trust what is tender to be tenacious;
trust new life to shoulder up
through hard ground,
roses to break through concrete walls. 

Grow, green sprig of Jesse, grow.

The mountain house surprises weary eyes.
We gather around a stump to dine together,
to savor the sweet fruit of God’s wild hope
while wolves and lambs choreograph a song of peace.

Grow, green sprig of Jesse, grow.

God calls us to tend an unexpected root, one that emerges from life-stories that have felt the sharp cut of the axe. God calls us to see in unexpected places, God’s promises of justice and peace. 

Grow, green sprig of Jesse, grow.