At the foot of the Cross

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Jesus on the Cross, St Mary’s Convent, Wantage

Whilst on retreat at St Mary’s Convent in Wantage in March I often found myself sitting within a water garden at the foot of a sculpture of Christ on the Cross and began writing, through which God helped me discern where and what He was calling me to do.  Today, on Good Friday, I revisited and finished it. It isn’t exactly poetry or fully thought out, it is more a staccato steam of consciousness!  

A cascade of water sounds out its journey to the Cross,
aeroplanes rumble in the skies above,
and cars call out as they hurry from A to B.
All moving on,
yet one moves to settles into stillness:
the water beneath Jesus’s feet.

The water of life.
The water that called me here,
that sustains my every moment.
The water that speaks to me.

I came to the Cross to pray.
but I have no words to speak,
and no need to find them
for my heart speaks its own language,
my heart speaks my desires.

My desire is to love the Lord my God more deeply,
to serve Him more fully,
to know him more closely.
And I know that as I receive and reciprocate His love,
His love is not something I can keep to myself.

If I love Him,
if I truly love Him,
the Lord my God becomes the Lord our God.
He is Lord of All,
not my personal deity to bring contentment and enlightenment to me alone,
but on offer to everyone.

To love God,
to truly be grateful for Jesus providing and showing the way,
I have to be like Him,
and do like Him.
I have to love all,
serve all,
and provide a signpost to love’s source.

God’s love cannot be contained,
for love to be love it must be set free:
Love loves,
Love lights the darkness,
Love rescues,
Love saves.

At the foot of the Cross,
I see pain and rejection.
At the foot of the Cross,
I see life, death and resurrection,
At the foot of the Cross,
I see our past, present and eternal future.
At the foot of the Cross,
I see love.

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