Monday, March 25, 2013

Pour Me Out...

             Can it really be Easter this weekend? Already? Okay, it hasn't really sneaked up on me since I have a calendar and all.  However, despite the calendar, I admit to being thrown slightly off by the fact that I just put out the St. Patty's decorations and haven't had any time to really enjoy them, and now it's time to put away the green and shamrocks and get out the brightly colored eggs, etc...  (Of course, if I go by the length of time I "enjoyed" Christmas decorations--I still have my singing Sinatra ornament out--I have a disproportionate expectation about holiday decoration viewing time.)
              So, since I know that time flies faster than I want it to, I have to make a conscious effort to slow down to experience Holy Week.  The start of this special week, yesterday, was lovely because I was able to spend time with family (as this year Palm Sunday fell on my mother's birthday) all day after church.  But the day started at church with a small fellowship of believers (it was snowing, and the weather may have kept people from getting out).  
            The pastor taking up the collection referenced Jesus getting His feet cleansed by the woman (Mary) who gave of herself--her tears and hair to dry--and her resources--the Nard she poured out over his feet.  He encouraged us to do the same--to give our service and resources to the Lord.  His homily reminded me of this poem I wrote several years ago. This Holy Monday I remind myself that I must allow Christ to do some redecorating in my heart even while I must pour myself out as an act of reverential worship.

The Offering

Pour me out like Nard
Onto Your feet, Oh Lord!
Break my selfish heart
And pour me out for

Shatter this clay jar, my God.
Let the slivers of porcelain
Prick my fingers
As I tremble before

Kneeling humbly at Your feet,
Let me pour the thick, syrupy oil—
Through bloody fingers—
As an anointing and
Preparing service for

Your alabaster skin will shatter.
Your essence, like Holy Oil,
Will pour from your Jar
Like pure Nard
As a Saving balm for

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