Brenden
Legend has it that Saint Brendan set off on the west coast of Ireland, in a small boat with a group of fellow monks, to discover the "Garden of Eden", guided only by reports by fellow missionaries and a strong faith in God!
This moment has long been prepared for,
Through study,
Through prayer,
Through fast,
Upon this quiet mountain, we have waited.
Now the season of waiting is past.
For now we must take up our calling,
To strike out, by faith into the unknown,
To live the message that we've been given,
And to stand firm upon that truth alone.
We bid farewell to all we've loved,
Hills_
Valley,
Home,
Friends and Kin.
Those who have prayed with us,
Worked with us,
We may not see their face again.
But do not weep, for ours is now the Vision,
Given to us by those who've gone before,
Who walked the Blessed Isles and saw it's Wonder,
and then return to tell us of all they saw.
That we not may not be shaken in our hope,
Be so resolved to carry out our scheme.
Let not fear nor reservation stop us,
From living out our destiny and dream.
Come on my friends, let us launch out.
Untie the cord that binds us to the shore.
Let us cast ourselves upon the water.
We shall surrender to its foaming claw.
Beyond the sunset, who can tell what fates and fortunes lie.
Only he who moves the stars,
Who sets the moon up in the sky.
Our boat is small,
Our boat is weak,
So strong our faith must be.
For that is all that we can trust,
To navigate upon the sea.
Then others, on hearing of our tale,
May be spurred to launch themselves with faith anew.
For not all are called to cast themselves upon the ocean.
Yet each has a work of faith to do.
Let them not say these men were brave,
Or foolish.
Let them not judge whether we were right,
Or wrong.
Let them know, our faith was not unfounded
Though we were weak,
Yet still our God was strong.
Seasons
This poem "Seasons" was prompted by the finishing of the Soul Surviour Camps but goes on to reflect on the changes in life we experience .
There was a season,
When teenagers stood in their thousands to offer up their prayers.
There was a season,
Where youth were challenged to serve God in all their days.
There was a season,
Of music and football, saints in shorts and jeans.
There was for a few days,
A believing community whose average age was in the teens.
There was a season,
When those who kept conviction hidden were bold,
When they discovered that they were not alone.
"There really was a God", as they'd been told,
When they felt the Spirit descend.
There was a season,
And those who were there wanted it never, ever,never,to end.
But, as winter follows autumn,
Summer sun is chased away by fall,
Spring growth lies waiting under frosty earth,
As warmth is heralded by the swallows call,
So the seasons of the Lord roll relentlessly on,
Bringing, birth, death, new life, restoration, fall.
It was a season,
When the closest to Jesus follow him up a hill,
Saw a vision,
Of Moses and Elijah in a light the mountian fill.
There was a season,
Where Peter wished forever to remain,
To build tents to honour Jesus name.
But there was a season,
When those same disciples did allegiance deny,
On another hill,
Comforted his mother, as they watched their master die.
There was another season,
When they saw an empty tomb.
There was a season,
When fire descended on the Upper Room.
There was a season,
When we were spirit-filled,motivated, self ratified.
There was a season,
When our ministry left us totally satisfied.
Then something changed,
Our role, our purpose, our support diminished .
We were forced to move on, before the task was really finished.
We wondered where the sun had gone,when the frost began to fall.
We no longer knew who we were, if he couldn't live our call,
To have a time of waiting,
To tread water, it is hard,
When we've nothing to hang on to,
Except we are a child of God.
God moves in Seasons!
He is constantly bringing closure, doing something new
The only certainty_ it's change!
To live, develop and grow, is to renew.
And those of us who wish to hold onto the moment,
To build tents on the light transfigured elevation,
Find the mountain path leads downwards to the challenge of the Spirit's new innovation.
Unless a seed falls into the ground and dies, harvest cannot occur.
We must look to things will be,
Rather than things that were.
Jesus is the only constant of the seasons of change, growth, pain.
He is with us.
He remains the same.
