Passion: pictures, poems and prayers

Jesus dies on the cross

The sun is eclipsed, early nightfall,
darkness covers the surface of the deep,
the Spirit grieves over the waters.
On the formless, empty earth, God is dead.

Through the death of all we hold most dear, may we find life. Amen.

Henry Shelton and I have just published our second set of images and meditations on the Passion narrative.

Our first set entitled Mark of the Cross (available in booklet, presentation, and individual images formats) has proved a popular download from the 12baskets site for user contributed worship resources and can be purchased by clicking here.

Our second set comes initially as a double-sided A3 sheet with all the images, haiku-like meditations and prayers laid out in sequence for ease of devotional use.

These pictures, poems and prayers enable us to follow Jesus on his journey to the cross reflecting both on the significance and the pain of that journey as we do so.

Henry and I have aimed in these reflections to pare down the images and words to their emotional and theological core. The mark making and imagery is minimal but, we hope, in a way that makes maximum impact.

Each sheet costs £3.50, plus £1.20 p&p per purchase. To purchase copies, send a cheque made out to commission4mission to Rev. J. Evens, St John's Seven Kings, St Johns Road, Ilford, Essex IG2 7BB or email to jonathan.evens@btinternet.com for more information.

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Larry Norman - Be Careful What You Sign.

My Greenbelt 2012 journal (1)

Friday 24^th August

I arrive at Greenbelt this year feeling frustrated due to the relentless nature of ministry combined with a sense that my ministry was not delivering all that it could – perhaps wanting more than I or the situations can deliver, perhaps that I am operating across too many fronts. I had left home later than anticipated, as usual trying to cover all bases at the last minute and then feeling frustrated that I’m behind schedule. On the way I toy with the phrase, ‘When will the culmination come?’, as I’m driving and begin to express some of what I’m feeling in some initial unsatisfactory lines of poetry:

There is no end, no culmination, no completion - like an ever

flowing stream or a cat which never tires of stroking, your people

age and fail and demand unless I cry, ‘No more, no more,’ and die.

When will the culmination come? When needs are met?

When work ceases? When demands are done? There is always more

therefore no respite, rest or resolution. Where is joy - where am I –

in sacrifice and self-giving?

I arrive and the fluid, flowing lines of Aradhna’s Soul Space worship wash over me while trying to absorb the complexities of the programme. Beyond hearing Bruce Cockburn tonight, there are few must attends for me this year. I decide to wander and experience the site initially but can’t settle to absorb and take anything in. Even viewing the Gallery – Michael Leunig, Simone Lia, Si Smith and Anthony Green – I can’t initially connect despite the obvious accessibility and humour of much of the work. Instead I go to see friends in G-Source and the Marketplace where I receive encouraging news on Near Neighbours, info about a South London exhibition, news of a friend’s family and changes to 12Baskets’ operation (the publisher of my 'Mark of the Cross' meditations).

Then comes an awesome gig from Bruce Cockburn who makes his solo acoustic chime and ring with rhythm and lead. There is no sense here that a solo artist cannot command and fill the main stage. He plays a good selection of early to mid career openers before moving on to a selection from Small Source of Comfort. The crowd call for early ‘Christian’ songs but Cockburn can pull great material from the hat of any period. He talks about no pictures of God being possible before singing ‘Boundless’. ‘You can call me Rose’ is both a highlight and, he says, a gift. The standout line for me and, perhaps, one with personal spiritual significance is, ‘If I loose my grip, will I take flight?’

My poem is perhaps beginning to clarify and now looks like this:

There is no culmination, no end

to need or greed, no resolution.

The need for someone to dim the lights

never ceases. Human selfishness

calls out for love without limits;

love as an ever flowing stream,

the tap turned full on.

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Bruce Cockburn - Strange Waters.