Breakin’ Out – Lenten Meditation
April 15, 2017

Lenten Meditation “Breakin’ Out”

BREAKIN’ OUT

It started out as a good day,
A Friday I believe it was.
It was just another weekend
To “billow our sails” as it oft does.
Then came along this “Jesus” thing
I gathered from flappin’ jaws
He was “just another madman,
Dyin’ for a silly cause.”
Another band of followers,
Scraggly, poor misguided and blind
You’d think they’d see clear through him,
His scheme and purpose behind
All his syrupy kindness,
The miracles and stuff-
But as the floggings weakened him
You could see he wasn’t that tough.

Although it was somewhat curious
The manner this person held
After being beat and spat upon
His fiery eyes “Love” spelled.
For many stood by watching-
I felt sorry for the chap
Especially when they donned him
With the robe and thorny cap.
I remember quite clearly
My own mouth parched and dried;
The thirst I knew was his own
Dragging the tree undignified.

Thank goodness for those women
Weeping loudly there close by.
They at least had a chance to help him
And wiped his sweat-face dry.
There was another Godsend;
Simon, I think his name ran;
A passer-by, pressed into service.
What an ill-chosen man.
Then I’ve often pondered
That there may have been a “glue,”
A mysterious force of love, or such,
That welded the hearts of the two.

There we were, trudging along now,
Up to the hill of the Skull.
We all knew what was at the top-
In the mayhem there was a slight lull.
I heard one stander-by’s deep gasp
As they laid him on the tree–
“Why are they nailing him alone?
Why not just tie all three?”
The soldiers pounded those fat wrist nails.
It was apparent they must be assured
That this Jesus whom they crucified
For all time would be secured.

When I saw this innocent young man
My heart began to boil
As they lifted him high in agony,
My mind in fierce turmoil!
Just for a split second there
I saw him looking at me
Out of the crowds around us
Into MY heart he could see.
Open the window of your soul,
Close your eyes for a moment or two.
See those pained, kind eyes of Jesus
Looking you through and through.
“I never did great wrongs, dear Sir”
“Yes, but you’re far from me–
Come closer, I’ll give you joy and peace
And set your bound heart free.”

Right then my palms began to sweat
I could see that he was right.
Where was the joy, the peace, the hope
I’d fought for with all my might?
His searching gaze as I beheld
Said plain enough to me
“Come closer, I’ve done all the work
Give me YOU, and I’ll set you free.”
That’s what I did midst the bustling noise
As I saw him drinking the gall.
“Take my angry, selfish ‘me’–
Just as I am” – and He took it all.

I hung around till just before three,
The crowds had all gone but a few.
A storm was blackening the skies.
A threatening uneasiness grew.
For the first time in a while He spoke-
“Forgive them. They know not what they do”
As in a cry of deep anguish
He began shouting Psalm Twenty-Two.
He looked at his mother
And a man named John,
And afterwards gazed at me.
“It is finished,” He gasped in his final breath
But I knew that’s not all there’d be.

The lightning, the clouds and the furious rain,
The ground shaking under my feet,
Are all but a lost, fading memory
As I went over to take my seat
Beside John and His mother Mary,
Where we sat for the rest of the day,
Crying, sobbing and searching
For words–but there was nothing to say.

I helped them take Him down from the cross
Carrying him to the tomb.
We heaved and shoved this huge round rock
To seal off that precious room
Where all my life’s past doubts were laid,
And all my future’s dreams,
For I had given away my heart…
My loves, my worries, and schemes.
I knew that something more must come,
Just what I couldn’t tell.
All Saturday we moped around
And, I’m sure felt a taste of Hell.
The doubts, the fears and loneliness
Threatened to choke our light.
Where would we go, what would we do?
“Father, hear us in our plight!”

That night’s sleep was a fitful one,
Must have waked a dozen times.
But finally came the Sunday dawn
Roused by the temple chimes.
As I got dressed and ready to go
There was a frantic knock at the door.
Mary, hysterically happy with joy,
Cried, “Jesus’ body–it is no more!”
It was hard to make sense of her scattered words.
Thank goodness for Peter and John,
Who both appeared at that very moment
Confirming the body was gone.

I didn’t know to be joyous or sad
Till they explained just what it meant:
“He said that in three days He’d rise’,
He’s finally Death’s bonds rent!”
I am not sure how that spoke to them,
I know what it said to me.
That short time I looked into his eyes
And gave all, had set me free.
Not that it was me at all,
It was He who lured me in.
It was He who gave my heart the call,
And He who broke my sin.

Many years have past since that day
Yet I’m as close right now
To Jesus as I was back then
When I close my eyes and bow.
I can feel Him in the very room–
A Peace just permeates all.
My heart begins to burn like fire
When I’m quiet to hear His call.
He is the Risen Lord, indeed,
He’s conquered death and sin
And vitally important for me
He’s set all aright within.

Jon Jacobs.
(c) 2011

TRIVIAL
October 21, 2012

TRIVIAL

That’s the smallest jot,
The littlest tittle,
That looms to enormity
Under my electron microscope
Of hope
Of joy
Of seeing my crumb of self
In the mirror
Larger than life,
The flaws,
The in-humility,
Rarified heartbeats
Character at once broken
Yet fully alive
Feeding others,
Stuffing myself,
Overshadowed by the mundane,
Shrieking at narcissism,
Calmed by a single voice…
“It’s OK. Come closer…”
No longer trivial,
It is me.

Stone Man
September 3, 2012

STONE MAN
That onetime heart of clay
Molded to everyman’s whim,
Brought sunshine forth as day
Contoured by reverent verses of their hymn
Reaching deep to other’s inner selves…
The smiles that leapt forth
When he spoke and queried
Just how are you—really?
Is your sorrow truly buried?
The Empathetic Soul
Stretched out like centipede runners
Searching, always searching
The life-giving water of another’s hurts.
Meeting the red of anger
And the blue of tears
With painted desert colors of sensitivity.
Years have worn him down.
Desiccated souls insidiously sipping
Until the clay heart began to dry and dry.
First it was the humor that left.
Then the happy lines about the eyes.
Tired – oh, how tired – or was it ennui?
Finally someone stopped long enough
To knock on his heart…
It knocked back – the deadened sound,
Soft, yet deafening – of stone.
That passerby jettisoned the stony heart
Like a shot-put.
It rolled and came to rest
In a shallow wet puddle of someone’s tears.
It sponged the wetness dry—
So thirsty for all we thirst for—
Then softened – just a bit – enough to notice.
To notice itself
To notice those tears disappeared.
A smile crept on like dawn
Pushing shadows away in the early morn.
Time again, and another time.

Fair Lady
August 26, 2012

FAIR LADY

Fair lady of heart’s summer drought
Who slakes my thirst like Spring rain
Soft and delicate her fabric,
Her covering lines every gentle contour
Her skin catching evening’s sun, turning
hues
Prism-like into a palette of pastels
Few sights have drawn such yearning…
Few moments given such pull
To simply reach and touch so rich and
velvet skin—
Just to touch and nothing more.
Such gentle face and laughing lines,
Parenthesized by dimples,
Calls forth my own joyful laugh in
response.
If I had her for one starry night, all to
myself—
What a wonder to see those tiny
sequins,
Canopied light, sprinkle lightshafts
Down on her golden hair—
It would only take one such breathless moment to assure me
I would lack nothing by spending the
rest of my time
Just so–a captive of that very time
capsule—
To laugh, to love, to live.
You are the stuff from which dreams
are made—
It is you…yes, it is you…it is you.
If she would turn to me and look
For one brief moment, I think I would
melt,
And if not I would remain some clear
substance
For her to grab and hold.
At once she can see clear through me.
Would that it be for who I want to be
And not who I am…

Fair Lady
August 26, 2012

FAIR LADY

Fair lady of heart’s summer drought
Who slakes my thirst like Spring rain
Soft and delicate her fabric,
Her covering lines every gentle contour
Her skin catching evening’s sun, turning
hues
Prism-like into a palette of pastels—
Few sights have drawn such yearning…
Few moments given such pull—
To simply reach and touch so rich and
velvet skin—
Just to touch and nothing more.
Such gentle face and laughing lines,
Parenthesized by dimples,
Calls forth my own joyful laugh in
response.
If I had her for one starry night, all to
myself—
What a wonder to see those tiny
sequins,
Canopied light, sprinkle lightshafts
Down on her golden hair—
It would only take one such breathless
moment to assure me
I would lack nothing by spending the
rest of my time
Just so–a captive of that very time
capsule—
To laugh, to love, to live.
You are the stuff from which dreams
are made—
It is you…yes, it is you…it is you.
If she would turn to me and look
For one brief moment, I think I would
melt,
And if not, I would remain some clear
substance
For her to grab and hold.
At once she can see clear through me
Would that it be for who I want to be
And not who I am…

Rainfall
July 24, 2012

RAINFALL
Torrential rain shouts at me
From my windshield
Deafening, blinding
Awash after thirty miles of free fall Suicidal to final impact
Now lying in limp puddles
Reflecting dark clouds above Glistening brightly jagged bolts
Deaf to their resounding voices Ready for rolling, round rubber
As final dissipation.

Flowers open their mouths
Drinking wetness
Perspiring fragrance
Smiling in color
Swaying under pelting massage Calling dinner to butterflies Dreaming of the gentle teen
They will adorn as bold corsage. Rainfall.
Life again eternal.
Called by the sun
For another journey.