Feed me?

Yesterday it struck me for the first time that Christ is both lamb and shepherd. Not sure why I didn't think about it before; it is such a strange contradiction.

He also calls -us- both. He tells us that we are either sheep or goats (neither particularly flattering), but also tells us to feed His lambs.

Interesting.

Prayer to a Shepherd King

I thought I had posted this several months ago, but did not.

Prayer to a Shepherd King
(Fr. Robert Dalgleish)

Your eyes find me
know me
search me
reveal me
disarm me
unclothe me
love me
delight in me
cherish me
comfort me
calm me.

Call me
draw me
entice me closer to you
my beloved Shepherd
my sovereign King!

How do I remember you?
How do I not forget about you
in the busyness of my life?
Ah; To listen for your whisperings,
to look for your revealings
to sense your appearings.

O Lord, forgive me.
I am so slow of mind and hard of heart.

Renew my mind
renew my heart
draw me anew to you
awaken my love for you
so that my very heart's yearnings
will awaken me to your callings.

O Lord, may this New Year
be one in which I look for
and find you
again and again
every day.

Amen

Poetry: Scent of a Shepherd

Scent of a Shepherd

From the nightmare I wake
in pain and motion.

The world passes by upside down
an undulating sea of blue sky.

My contorted body screams
unused to the position
and broken bones.

My hair swings low
swaying with every step
blocking the sight of his sandaled feet.

His stride is long and even
shoulders miraculously broad;
my weight unequal to the cross.

My arms hang loose as I wonder;
should I hang on?

Does it hurt?

Do his stretching arms
remind him of the wood?

Does he thirst?

Wrapped as a collar round his muscled neck
borne like a yoke neither easy nor light.

Bitter streams of tears flow over my brow.
I should be in the dust before him
wiping his feet with my grief-soaked hair.

Instead, he carries me.

From the precipice he rescues me.
As I lunge for the edge
he draws me back.

To stop my fighting
he breaks my legs.

Despite my cries he lifts me
drapes me
carries me.

.

.

.

I breathe the scent of him
of sheep and wood
of blood and wine
of bread and man
of sun and moon and stars
of eternity
of home.

His cadence soothes.
The sweat of his exertion sweet
as opium; intoxicating.

My sobs relent.

I turn my ear to his chest
full of his scent
and listen to the drumbeat of dawn’s creation
the thrumming of the universe;
God’s heart beating against my cheek.

And I rest.

May 2008