The beauty of it all,
The knowing that we breathe
From forgotten to recalled,
The courage to believe
To give all and not receive.
Tear down your prison walls
This facade we build to decieve
Let your gratitude stand tall
Open your eyes and believe.
Abandon yourself to God,
Knowing He will never leave,
Let His spark become a lightning rod.
Spread God’s love and watch the Spirit stir up,
So Christ may draw them in and the Father lift up.
By Chris Clody 4/18/24
There is a binding Lifeforce,
Replete with Animation
Gathering busy atoms
into forms of awe and function.
We are baffled by conscience,
Wonderstruck by imagination,
The soul’s a gift of mystery,
Beckoning human salvation.
The Creator of all things,
Is more than mere conception,
Rather God’s rousing of a
slumbering creation
The very act of common prayer,
A pull towards conversation,
Between created and Creator,
A Reconciliation.
By Chris Clody ~ 12/7/23
What is the right side of history?
This is the bait to the fallen heart.
Faith begs our heart to kneel in humility, while the sparkling bait of oppressive ideologies, glittering half-truthes, yearning towards a needful rush towards progressiveness without a solution in mind.
There are two solutions,
One of faith in God’s love, mercy and justice,
The other fallen, distracted, and divisive.
God also casts its bait. A bait less attractive to the primitive needs of rebellion. For it is neither the right, left, or even the lukewarm middle that solve the human condition. Only the humble heart that realizes its powerlessness, can actually discern which bait is being pulled towards false or true human evolvement.
By Chris Clody
4/3/23
Charity must begin in thought,
Just as God thought us into being,
Lest faith journeys from head to heart.
Lost are the religious
Choking scripture of meaning,
The intention of what God-breathed
“Repent!
For the Kingdom of God is at hand!”
The Christ of God walks the earth,
One voice cries into the wilderness,
At our crooked paths between head and heart.
Water of repentance awaits His fire,
To burn away our enmity,
that hardens our heart.
“Behold the Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of the world!”
A dove splits the air whilst a voice pervades the forerunner’s being,
“This is my Son, the Beloved,
with whom I am well pleased.”
The Holy One emerges,
Glistening.
Waters of repentance,
Transform,
Like water into wine,
The Dove finds its rest,
“…and his delight shall be in the fear of the Lord…With righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.”
Resplendent is this new water,
Drawing uncountable thirsts,
“Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. The water I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life”
A carrot of eternal life,
Draws weary minds,
To look up in gratitude,
And out in forgiveness.
Mercy, compassion, unbound love,
Toward YHWH through neighbor,
Yet, whipped is the hopeful beast of Christ’s burden,
Heavy are the tired legs that follow,
Shorter is the straightened path,
Narrowing from earthly attachment,
Dripping sweat like blood,
Agony defensless to a higher will.
Joy overshadows this matter of time,
Loving God to love neighbor,
Despite pious thorns of rebuke,
Aiming their arrows of judgment,
Unaware their aiming at themselves.
Prejudice, thick like fog,
Lays heavy upon the earth,
Blinding love from head to heart,
Seeping deep into culture’s mind,
“Passing Over” narrow paths,
The insidious midst,
Suddenly parts like a sea,
Allowing comfortable and safe passage,
Within a sweeping current of prideful priests, prophets, and kings,
Righteous in condemnation,
Scourging with scripture,
Unclean! Unclean!
Lepers shunned,
Cloaking their Image in shame,
Forcing them to wander,
Alone,
Into the fog.
Hanging,
Below the looming thickness,
Where ground and midst separate,
One can kneel and see,
As if looking through cracked glass.
Clear enough to make out,
A thin trail of crumbs,
Remnants of bread from before,
Left for the meek,
The poor,.
The weary,
The condemned,
The unworthy,
And the lonely.
The hateful labels,
etched upon them,
Find new skin
Stretching over inflections of hate,
Growing cell by cell,
Nourished in newfound viaticum.
Nourished and drawn,
Placing all hopes and fears,
In a rest to come,
When death,
The final torturous judgment,
Will have no sting.
Bit by bit,
Persevering in real food,
Conforming in slow digestion,
True mercy,
True love,
Towards True Life,
Willing to exchange,
Humiliation for pride,
Carrying a new burden,
Hewn of wood,
Their Savior carried.
The crooked road within head and heart,
becomes clearer,
Seen through a legacy,
Bowing now to follow,
Instead of later in judgment.
‘Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
His,
Chris
O, paper souls,
Trade for destiny,
Ephemeral treasures,
Becoming God’s enmity.
A certain John,
Who made clear the way,
This path’s priority,
This game culture will not play.
A remnant few,
The border walkers,
Standing within the breach,
Not false charity crawlers.
“False charity?”,
Impossibly real,
Preserving the poor,
Hand-outs to grovel and kneel.
For those with mouths,
Who query influence,
To choose equity,
New borders of confluence.
“How long Lord?!”,
Is not the question,
Our Image answers,
Countering such bleak banter.
To be holy,
Feed the hungry,
Clothe the naked,
Justice blooms between borders.
Christian deafness,
To sarcasm’s plea,
“The poor you will always have”,
Has Truth set you free?
Does love thy neighbor,
Manifest today?
Fruit of our labors?
Or is this Christian wordplay?
Honoring lips,
Singing and praying,
Comfortably numb,
Priest, Prophet, and King -sleeping.
Awaken priests!
You! Border Walkers!
Stand within the breach,
Become doers not talkers!
Proclaim prophets!
Announce my commands!
Love God and neighbor,
Speak mercy and feed my lambs!
Governing Kings!
Gather my people!
Amass resources,
Distribute to the needful.
Friends,
Let’s gather in urgency,
Spread a table for all people,
To reach out in divergency,
And pray to fly with wings of eagles.
Eternal Word, only begotten Son of God,
Teach me true generosity.
Teach me to serve you as you deserve.
To give without counting the cost,
To fight heedless of wounds,
To labor without seeking rest,
To sacrifice myself without thought of any reward
Save the knowledge that I have done your will. **
Amen.
By Christopher Clody
2/4/22
** Prayer for Generosity
St. Ignatius of Loyola
My Beautiful little child,
Be brave as the hope your Mommy has,
Hold Daddy’s hand and lift a smile,
Doctors and nurses will be new friends,
And home will be this hospital for a while.
Gentle touches of love a care,
Will soothe your tears into rest,
Drifting softly hugging teddy bear,
God and angels ever present,
Called by many gathered in prayer.
Margot, teach teddy how to pray,
Press his furry paws together,
Let all the noises fade away,
For I left an angel by the door,
With smiling eyes that never stray,
Who hums your favorite lullaby,
Just for you, every minute of every day.
We love you little one.
Love Chris 7/23/21
What brings me to prayer?
Is it not a mountain I must climb,
my innate daring desire to conquer mystique?
In the beginning,
Standing to taste a snowflake,
Freezing doubt and sweet possibility meet.
The air was silent,
Remembering to breathe through my nose,
Warming the icy shock through a simple technique,
The world’s hush broken,
from the crunch of my boots,
Ascending in hope the impossibly steep.
Quiet petitions rise within breaths,
Focusing on each inconvenience,
Challenging my thoughts, soul, and body’s physique.
Prayer is but a monologue,
a crazy man confronting only himself,
Uninterested in answers but miracles to reap.
An imagined path,
Pit falls entombed in new fallen snow,
Fearless only to the bold, mountain sheep.
Convincing myself to become like sheep,
“Baahhh!”, I laughingly yell,
My bellow goes unechoed and falls asleep.
Half-way up and arduous,
Persistence jettisons the last ballasts of levity,
Turing back – I ponder… the trampling underneath.
Doubt crushed below yet looming ahead,
This solo desire feels not so alone,
I am summit-drawn; yet…something Other calls this sheep.
Before the vanquish,
A penultimate test crouches in wait,
Joy or rejection from conquering the heap.
Ice-laden and sheer,
fingertips stretched – thinly grasping the edge,
A new prayer emerges while pulling up to peek.
Finally, rising to eye-level,
chin pushing down on ice, snow, and stone,
thrusting my right leg over I roll exhausted for sleep.
I stand to view majesty,
Upon wobbly legs and yet further confounded to hear,
One salient echo, within me and impossibly deep.
But how could an echo,
survive the wilderness of overwhelming quietude?
This echo was within, my prayer, my heart aching to speak.
This prayer was different,
A symptom of The Other’s desire,
One I cannot unhear, blot out, or release.
Maybe I am crazy,
For I felt not just alone but even seemingly held,
Yet this mountaintop experience brought me to weep.
It was thrill and joy,
Wrought by myself in this difficult climb,
Profoundly surpassed by this prayer I repeat.
My sense of self,
Disappeared – like a snowflake first tasted,
It came to me, gifting itself for strength to conquer the heap.
Looking at my knapsack,
two water bottles unopened, tucked on each side,
Unaware of thirst by ever-present snowflakes to eat.
Descending the path,
Made by the me – I can no longer recognize,
Like the desire I once chased, lays wasted and incomplete.
Understanding prayer,
Truly continues to be another mountain to climb,
Yet now the beginning is different as is the summit somehow.
Grateful for the hurdles,
Even eager to face it’s unforeseen penultimate test,
Joyfully begging for strength through snow that I plow.
Fulfillment of Desire,
Is no longer mine that I seek,
But for the One Who strengthens me in the here and now.
by Chris Clody
5/27/21
Hope’s libation pours out from the struggle,
Flooding the breach with fearlessness,
Hope is place embracing life’s trouble,
Buoys our peace upon swells of unrest,
Prayer spits out briny sea by the mouthfuls,
Resolute to swim against nature’s rebuttal.
The hidden horizon explodes in sunrise,
Sparkling whitecaps bursting with the Daystar,
Pulling at waves towards God’s golden eye,
Hope’s fulgent path gleams atop this soaking graveyard,
Towing me through this heaving and undulant spar.
Hope reaps new life by each given moment,
Satiating the promise sufficient for souls,
Without counting the cost or love that is spent,
Gulping forgiveness to swim in Christ’s watering hole.
Free will is given to swim through the suffering,
A gift to react to the joy that was stole,
By drowning in bitterness or oblation’s sweet offering.
Within that place see the path to where new life awaits,
That embraces the swim above fear’s pulling weight.
Keep on swimming… keep on swimming…
by Chris Clody
3/9/21
Outside the wilderness waits,
Fully aware of my refusals,
My name is called from the Gate,
Laden by comforts and pockets full,
A dead man dragging Mercy’s weight,
Condemned by selfishness to drag and pull,
Gluttony complains yet I’m already full.
Disconnected with my identity,
A lie living within a believable lie,
Tumbling within waves of work’s fragility,
Constantly running but unable to fly,
Crashing just to burn glimmers an epiphany,
In your Light, Lord, now shines my destiny.
In the quickening the visible unchanged,
The lie flees naked, ashamed, and fully revealed,
My heart given room for the joy exchanged,
Before my Aha every moment spun on a wheel,
As grace gathered my broken pieces to rearrange,
I’m flooded by intimacy I once thought distant or strange.
A grateful sting of regret passed through as quickly,
Repentant and contrite words gushed up and out,
Quivering legs gave way and crumbling to my knees,
“Forgive my blindness Lord!” My ultimatum without any doubt,
“I will follow you in Truth and Spirit!” feeling set free,
Fearless to add, “Whatever the cost, wherever you send me.”
by Chris Clody ~ 3/2/2021
Although we contain God’s Image,
We cannot possess eternity.
Shown only in humility,
Given more so in gratitude.
To the prayerful seeking,
Venturing into inner stillness,
She waits listening,
Generously breastfeeding,
Filling hungry souls,
In sufficiency,
Her Wisdom,
Spilling
down
our cheeks,
Until satisfied.
Nurtured in bliss
Nuzzelled within Her.
She is my most intimate,
My Omnicient Identity,
My untrammeled beatification,
All-Knowing witness,
Ever-Searching every thought,
All my worthy desires and inspirations.
She is my Unblemished Ego,
My soul and guardian.
Whispering encouragement
Always drawing me closer,
seeking the sacred in another.
Forcing my knowing to behold in others,
What can only be contained; never possessed.
She is the wild purity of my God,
An impervious compass,
pointing Heavenward,
Waiting patiently for my fiat.
When I find the frayed threads of my ends,
It is then I hear Her invitation,
Beckoning me home,
Into the safe harbor of warm Hope.
My Impenetrable high tower,
of ultimate rescue,
And it is here,
In Her Virgin Womb,
Where I can be,
Truly be…
Still and
Know
God.
Chris Clody
12/7/20
Christopher Clody 