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Brady D Friedkin Aug 2017
Exiled, a stranger in a strange land with hope for life
But we have locked our doors to keep him out
For the life of the World unless an inconvenience
One in the image of God disallowed human decency at our action
Hands and feet of the Lord Jesus, lest it be easier to pretend the problem away

Now has come the time for our repentance;
Forgive us Father, for we have sinned
We have not loved our neighbor as ourself
Rather, we have loved ourselves and only ourselves
We are the sinners we pretend not to be

They come seeking refuge from terror and evil
We slam doors in their faces
They come hungry for food to eat
And we stuff our mouths full, claiming to have none
Can we really call ourselves People of the Lord?

They sit on the side of the road begging for  our spare change
And we pretend as if we are poorer than they
They freeze to death on the sidewalk
And we cross to the other side like the priest and Levite of old
Have we reason to call ourselves the hands and feet of Christ?

Mightn’t there come a day when we are hungry with no food to eat
Did the Lord not command us to feed the hungry, and give to the poor?
Have we shown the love of the Lord to even our closest neighbors?
Mightn’t we show love rather than fear, generosity rather than persecution
Else we might no longer rightfully call ourselves the People of the Lord
Brady D Friedkin Apr 2017
The morning came slowly on that third day
The sun wondered how it might be able to shine through such darkness
The tears of the earth came early in the dew that morning
The flowers began to bloom in an open defiance to the earth
Perhaps the decaying body of the Lord gave them new life

The birds sang songs of jubilee that morning, as if there were reason for joy
Did they not know that the Light of the World had been snuffed out?
Did they not know that the one who fed them had gone away?
Did they not know that their creator lay below them dead in the ground?
Or did they sing defiantly knowing what we yet did not know?

Much like it had been in Bethlehem decades before, the world was silent
Breaking the silence like the Divine Child’s cries, somewhere a child cried
As if this child knew that his Lord lay dead below the earth
As if he could feel the thick darkness that surrounded him
But then, in defiance like only a child could bring, the first laughter in days

The new world was cold, dark, and bitter, and a child dared to laugh
While the rest of the world cried and mourned the death of their only hope
This child laughed while the birds sang and the flowers bloomed
It was as if they did not know that the Life of the World was still dead
Rather, though, it was as if they had read the prophets of old, and believed

When the sun finally rose, it could not shine through the thick darkness
We lived in a dark purgatorial world where we awaited the judgement
What a terrible judgement that must be coming toward us
We, who drove the nails into His hands, and gave Him over to death
But then, a glimmer of light comes upon the horizon

The light was not the rising of the sun, but some holy other
Those disciples who had run away while He hung on the cross ran again
This time not away from their Savior, but toward that otherworldly light
When they came to where He has been buried, they fell upon their faces
The brightest light to ever grace this old world poured out of the tomb

Then they heard a voice, the voice of the Risen Lord
‘Rise up you men of earth’ He said to the men lying facedown
‘Rise up oh you sleepers!’
‘Behold the Light of the World is upon you’
It was then that the world began its slow change

The cosmos, which had fractured so long ago in Eden, began to mend
Dead men rose to new life
Dark places were then filled with life
The world became a new place where the old had passed away
Every crack and crevice filled with an uncreated light never before seen

For the Lord has risen from the dead!
Indeed He has defeated death!
And forever, we shall keep the feast !
Brady D Friedkin Apr 2017
We entered the holy city with palm branches to welcome
Parading in as they sang 'Hosanna!'
They honored Him as if He were their king
As if He had come to set them free
Oh how right they were, the Promised King, come to set His people free

We shared in communion with the Lord and the betrayer
On the eve of the darkest day in history
Hate brewed at one end of that table
While love stirred peacefully on the other
And all of us living in blissful ignorance in between

We celebrated the passover with our master
And we prayed that The Lord would not pass over us again
That instead He would stoop down to us and save us
But we denied Him in His hour of need
We slept soundly as He was betrayed by us

Like a lamb led to the slaughter, He gave His life for another
They beat Him within inches of His divine life
They cast lots for his garments, and spit on His bloodied face
No longer did they yell 'Hosanna!' to welcome their king,
But they yelled 'crucify him!' to condemn their Divine Lord

They drove nails into his frail hands
He cried out to heaven asking why The Lord had forsaken Him
He declared in defiance ‘It is finished’ and He passed on to death
They threw a sword into his swollen side
His holy blood and holy water spilled to sanctify the earth onto which it fell

So silly they were, they thought that they could **** God
That they really believed they could depose the Lord of all with mere nails
But the sky darkened, and heaven turned away as to not see her Lord die
The earth shook and the world changed
Suddenly all knew 'surely this man was the Son of God'

The once bright and beautiful sky turned suddenly dark
The earth shook violently in disapproval that her creator lay dead on her face
The warm humid air turned suddenly bitterly cold and dry
For the promised Messiah had been defeated
Death itself had victory over the world, and the world knew it was so

There, on the cross, lay the Life of the World, dead
The Light of the World had been snuffed out, and the world left in darkness
The hope of all mankind suddenly vanished
The steady hand holding the world wavered in mourning
And darkness covered the seemingly God-forsaken earth

Who are we at the foot of the cross that stood silently?
We stood by and watched the promised Messiah be taken away and killed
We reap what we sew, and will now live out our days in darkness
Without hope we shall suffer for all time, a punishment fit for our crime
We crucified the Messiah, we gave the Lord to death, we killed God

For three days the sun did not rise
For three days the world swayed unstable
The demons danced in the darkness
Hell was victorious
Because for three days, God lay dead in a tomb.
A poem for Good Friday. It ends in hopelessness, because at the end of the Good Friday narrative, Jesus' followers truly believed that He was dead and would not return. To see the completion of the poem, another will be posted on Easter
Brady D Friedkin Dec 2016
Wake up, dear dreamer; the morning has come!
Weary student, the term is over; the holidays have begun!
Oh saint, the long Advent is over;  the season of feasting is here!
Fasting and waiting, purple drapings covered all the places
But look on this day, white and gold shine like the sun of a new day

Remember, oh Christian, that night in the town of David
When the Light of the World finally shone bright
When, for a brief and glorious moment, eternity flashed its beauty
Remember that night, dear parishioner, when hopelessness was banished
For the long-awaited Saviour had finally come!

This great season when we celebrate that God on High descended to Earth down low
That the Lord of Heaven became lowly man to make all things new
That He showed us a world which we only know from fairy stories
A world where rivers run with wine and trees bear fruit the color of gold
Remember the Lord that came to renew the life robbed from humanity

So celebrate, oh Christian, you who have been renewed
Remember your Holy Baptism in the Lord, you saint
Remember all that you have forgotten, and celebrate the Incarnation!
Tear away those drapings of darkness and the curtains of purple
The season of fasting has passed, and a feast is to be set upon our tables!
Celebrate these next twelve days and never relent!
Dress the world in gold and white, that she might remember He who has restored her

For behold, the Word has been made flesh!
Behold, He brings life to this dying world!
Behold, before our eyes, the Salvation prepared for the nations!
Behold the Incarnate Lord!
Brady D Friedkin Jun 2016
Exiled for three hundred years
Without limbs, missing eyes, and unseen sins
The Church of Jesus Christ had been laid waste
Quietly living under the heavy boot of Roman Persecution
The bloodied Bride standing in Babylon waiting for her Groom

Hundreds of years prior, deep in the memory of the ancient past
Lay God Incarnate, dead in a tomb
Suffering for the sake of His very Bride
So too now does His wife lay dying
The Church being dismembered for His very sake

Three hundred years of darkness and exile
Separated from brothers and sisters by tyranny
Under duress and suffering inflicted by Rome
Until came an Emperor and a vacation home
To defeat the terror and end an exile

Constantine saw the Son of God and was granted victory in battle
Ushering in new peace and edicts to end the centuries of persecution
The Church of Jesus Christ was finally reunited and reconciled
For the Winter had passed, the night was over
The Spring had finally come, and the sun shone like the flaming tongues at Pentecost

Bishops and priests, pastors and deacons, fathers and sons; they descended upon Nicaea
Men with lost limbs and erased eyes, with restless wounds and sinister sins; they came
To reunite the Body of Christ, to define the Church for the life of the world
To remember what had been forgotten, and forget that ought which not be remembered
These men of God came to Nicaea to re-establish that from which they had previously departed

Confirming the core beliefs of the Body of Christ; the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth
The Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, made man Incarnate from the Blessed ******
And in the Spirit of God, the Lord the giver of life
In one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church
Existent for the sake of the life of the world

Broken they came, united they left
Exiled they were, one Church they became
When our spiritual fathers came upon the little town of Nicaea
And remembered the Church they had long forgotten that they were
Brady D Friedkin May 2016
A storm strikes the peaceful world in which I dwell
Shaking the very foundations of my soul
Somehow I forget who I am
My peaceful world shaken, my ignorant bliss erased
And I am left an unknown sojourner, lost in a dark world

So I venture into the forest searching for my home
Greeted by wild animals and wild people
I find trees and habitats, brothers and sisters, but not my home
I find a wonderful place to be yes, but my home it is not
No matter how fond and wonderful a place the forest, still it is not my home

So I take to the countryside in search of my home
Greeted by green fields and countless cattle
I find crops and vegetation, but not my home
I find a place with many brothers and sisters, but my home it is not
No matter how fond and wonderful a place the countryside, still it is not my home

So I set out out for the city in search of my home
Greeted by people more than can be counted
I find even some of my brothers and sisters, but not my home
I find a place bustling with energy and people, but my home it is not
No matter how fond and wonderful a place this city, still it is not my home

So I depart the city for a quaint village, in search of my home
Greeted by wonderful people, many brothers and sisters
I find a many good things and homely people, but my home it is not
I find, to my great pain, that this too is not my home
No matter all the wonderful and fond things, I know I have no home

I fall on the ground and look to the heavens
I clench my fist and shake it crying hateful words
And then my eyes see the glory of the Lord
A cross atop the highest tower of the village
For it all comes back to my pounding head

I return back to the fold of God from which I had wandered
Returning to the home from which I departed
And upon remembering my mother, I am reminded of my Father
Then I am reunited with my many brothers and sisters whom I had met along the way
Truly then, seeing the a glory of the Lord

For I was like the prophet who searched for the Lord
Seeing the great wind; but the Lord was not in the wind
Then the great earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake
Seeing the great fire; but the Lord was not in the fire
Then he heard the Lord come in a low and gentle whisper

I looked for my home in the forest; but it was not in the forest
I looked for my home in the countryside; but it was not in the countryside
I looked for my home in the city; but it was not in the city
And I looked for my home in the village; but it was not in the village
For I found my home, my very self, in the Body of Christ

He reminded me of my baptism
Reminding me of whose mark is upon me
Reminding me of who I am
In a low and gentle whisper
Calling out to me the name I had long forgotten; 'My Beloved'
This is a poem about coming to the Church, the Body of Christ
Brady D Friedkin Apr 2016
April 28, 2016

Oh Colossae, where have you gone to hide yourself from the Lord?
Colossae, why have you wandered away from the fold of God?
Have you forgotten the words of St. Paul, the man who brought you the news
Colossae, why have you departed from the ways of the Lord?
Oh Colossae, where hast thou gone?

Colossae, have you forgotten the Word which became flesh?
Have you Colossae, a city of unholiness, forgotten of the promise of newness
Oh Colossae, how quickly you have fallen into uncleanliness
From dust you came and to dust you shall return
But must you, oh Colossae, so quickly descend to the dirt of the earth?

Oh Colossae, you cut off limbs afraid of the flesh
As if less flesh could make you more holy
You believe that this gnostic theology saves you from your sins
But only God incarnate in flesh can save
Oh Colossae, forget not the Savior who made you new

Colossae, forget not the Spirit of God, the very giver of life
He descends upon you and makes you holy,
He proceeds from the Father and the Son, and is worshiped and glorified
He is not one to worship alone, or to give identity alone
For that you have been united with Christ, who proceeds from the Father

Colossae, remember not this heresy of mysticism
There is this flood of culture and thought
Oh Colossae, be not drowned by this flood
And forget not the great unity the Body is to be
Forget this heresy to which you have come to love

Oh Colossae, you worship angels and men, yet too God
But you know, oh Colossae that the Lord on High is worth the worship
For these messengers from heaven may bring the Word of the Lord
But certainly, oh Colossae, they are not the Word which became flesh
Oh Colossae, forget these ancient heresies, and raise up the Lord Jesus

Oh Colossae, you partook in the Holy Communion of His Body and Blood
And baptized in the death and resurrection
Anointed with oil like the kings of old
Engrafted into the marriage of the Lord Jesus and His bride
Oh Colossae, you are one Body, abandon it not

Oh Colossae, return to the Lord!
Come back to the land of your spiritual fathers
Where they worshipped the Lord in all goodness
Come back to this land of orthodoxy
Oh Colossae, repent of this heresy against the Lord!

Oh Colossae, how we have followed path you have trod
To forget the redemption by which we are saved
To remember not the works of the Lord, perpetrated that we might freely live
That we have forgotten to live holy lives
Oh Colossae, how we have fallen in line with you and the Church of yesterday

Too have we, this Church of the modern age, departed like you, Colossae
We have succumbed to these heresies of forgetting our Lord Jesus
Oh Colossae, we have fallen, like you, and dirtied ourselves from holiness
We have descended to the depths of the sea like the rest of the world
Too we are drowning in our sorrows and our sins and unholiness

Oh come Lord Jesus
And redeem us, like Colossae, back into Your holiness
Come Lord Jesus
And renew our troubled lives, bring us back into Your holiness
Oh come Lord Jesus
A poem written on the heresies and the rebuke of St. Paul to the church of Colossae in the letter to the Colossians
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