Reinterpret power

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This is an illustration my comic book Bible. A day after casting my vote I’m reading when I find myself stuck and struck simultaneously by what I’m looking at.  The picture has a well defined, symmetrical, and handsome man beneath the purple robes: the illustrator’s perspective on Jesus I think.    Looking beyond that, I note that what is beneath the robes is the same that made the universe.  The same that destined the fingers that are placing the robe, accessorised by ridicule, on his skin – sore from the whipping he’s just received.  The discipline that focuses the destructive potential into love is awe inspiring.  Power here is expressed fully in it’s application, or seeming inaction.

I saw here Ultimate power; Absolute power; Universe creating power. Alongside it also a real Response-ability, gentleness and self control. This was here a pattern – a template and challenge – for how to hold power. There really wasn’t anyone more powerful thus no other pattern other than this has any authority and authenticity: this was a lesson from the source. Those who thought they had power actually had none and he who seemed powerless and bound actually had it all.

It gave me solace in the face of my post election dispair – I lamented the system not the outcome. Here in this picture I saw the indictment against human structures and the power they claim to have. I saw clearly the truth that in the man Jesus only was there the combination of power and responsibility: a combination neccesary for the complete redemption of humanity. This task was, is, and will always be beyond us. All I can do is respond: surrender, repent, anticipate, and bear witness.

#reflection

John 19:28-30

But am I thirsty?
Yearning for the cup of obedience,
For the sour wine of humility
And the salvation it brings?

Am I thirsty?
To endure with you and not to reign,
To stay faithful through the pain,
To praise in chains,
Or when blood stains my imperfect garments?

Am I thirsty?
Knowing that nothing else satisfies
No food for this desire,
Wood for this dying fire?
Or am I mourning my death while waiting
For it all to dry up!

No!

Give me thirst,
Give me hunger.
March me into the wilderness,
Into the desert where you are.

Give me stones
Destroy my thrones
Shake these bones and make me re-membered.

The beds are dry, the clouds long departed:
Dust reigns.

Give me thirst,
Give me the name to call
Give me the knees upon which to fall.

In deed I rage against mercy,
Refusing the first.
Oh Lord!

Give me thirst

© Denis Adide 2015

Before he dies Jesus drinks the ‘Cup’ after saying he thirsts. This the same cup he asks be taken away in Gethsemane. On the cross he thirsts. Is it a thirst for something to drink or is it a desire to be obedient even unto death: death on a cross. He desires to take upon himself the work of salvation.

“My food is to do the will of him who sent me”.

Lines composed while contemplating John 19:16-30

They were bare hands that sharp nails received
Bare lips that with a kiss revealed
Sealed with bare stone and silver a heart deceived.

Love seamless as His royal robe
Untouched but taken whole
Given whole.

And as they take your robes, you take mine.

Filthy rags.

I resist for a fear of shame
But you shame my fear by clothing me
Clothing me with that seamless love

I’m touched and overtaken whole
Given whole.

© Denis Adide 2015

Symbiot

12.01.2015

I found the spot I thought you might like
And diligently dug the grave, like you asked.
Then went and purchased the blade, like you suggested:
I left it on the window pane.

Looking upon it, I caught the glisten of raindrops
Shining like diamonds,
Like diamonds stuck onto the empty, interwoven, web-like, branches
Of trees that postpone their dying though winter calls.

But the grey pouring out of the covered sky
Continued to fall onto the sharpened iron
Turning it black, like the grip,
Like the empty, sub-optimal, bowels of the ship.

That was when it dawned on me,
Like the false winter morning I was now overlooking,
You are my greatest pain, my deepest sorrow, my darkest undying
Because the thought you implant, that you can die,

Is naught but a lie.

Any blood you spill is mine
And though the life you claim to take is your own,
Until I hold you, it is mine.
(But simultaneously also not mine.)

© Denis Adide 2015

“For my yoke is easy and my burden is light!” #4Real?

Yours not mine!

One Stone!

Bones upon bones, upon bones, upon bones,
Strewn across the land
where swords unsheathed have sprouted –
are sprouting – like flowers

‘Not one stone will be left a top of another
all will be thrown down’

Blindness, upon the hour of thy visitation.

When the earth laments
it spews up limbs
like slowly dropping, stubborn, thick, viscous tears.

‘Not one stone.’

What, one stone?

These are not the dead
They are the dying
They are our dying
Covered in dust but refusing submersion

They are the flesh you ask us to leave
That with fine sinews cleave onto our resurrecting
emerging from our tarrying
unclothed and Spirit-less.

‘All will be thrown down’

Bones upon bones indeed,
Bones upon bones in need
Called away but staying slain
With spades harvesting the swords
Harvesting death from death.

‘Not one stone’

‘One Stone!’

© Denis Adide 2014

 

“Let the dead bury their own dead…”

 

Crown Him

May you always be set upon your throne
May you always be set upon mine –
This I say reluctantly
Urged on by my pride
(Did you set a king within me
or am I just in the ruins of my forefathers
from the loins of their forebear?) –
Set your place in my hearted furnaces
where my resilience reigns
and into whom I have cast
All desires for you,
To burn alongside the knowledge of the crown
that it – my desire – holds
while boldly proclaiming that you
(for whom long life is assured)
Should wear.

Walk among them so that I may see,
Unconsumed in the burning,
The hope that pokes at my stubborn heart
Shouting in its emptiness
for a kingdom and a king
it doesn’t want but desires.

Doesn’t want
But desires.

© Denis Adide 2014

Save

Wash over me: Baptise
Wash into me: Blood
Save!

Trembling as I approach the shores
Feet get wet
Tears fall

I see the doors I don’t let open
And him before them all: knocking
Patiently with those eyes of Love,

The Love I need but don’t want
The Love I need but don’t want

The Love I need but don’t want
For the pain through which
My healing and freedom will come.

Wash over me: Baptise
Wash into me: Blood.
Save!

Though art with me,
I will not fear,
I will tremble,
I will not be afraid.

© Denis Adide 2014