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Be attentive to the small.
Diminutive things hide gift,
Less the glory,
Inviting in simplicity
And in need,
Making room for God to move
Upon the empty places,
To spend Himself.
God will not keep company
With vain glory,
Nor suffer the competition
Of the arrogant will.
The humble,
Empty of self,
Win the Heart of God.
When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Through veins
Piercing to the marrow of bone.
The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.
All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.
Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accuser.
Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.
How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.
©2012 Joann Nelander
I have been flawed
For all the years
You have known me.
Ah, but You
Have known me.
In this is my hope,
That I have known You, too.
You are a new creation.
You hear the words,
Even delight at them.
Smiling and free
You run off to play,
Tucking the Words away.
Think to steal a day.
Take out the Words.
Turn them in your heart.
With fingers of prayer,
Feel their frame,
Touch them again.
The Words do not come alone.
He Who spoke them
Descends into your heart,
Repeats His refrain,
Speaks Love again.
You are a new creation.
Each time the Words are spoken,
The creature takes on a glow,
Exists in Time
Holiness accentuated,
Grace effectuated.
Pondered and plumbed,
Their depths revealed,
An anchor of Truth
Makes them the bedrock
Of your being.
With Love’s true eyes
All is new for the seeing.
You are a New Creation.
Glad you’re here. No reason to be here without you. I’m busy merging . Dream Willow Studio will now be here, so if you are a follower please join me here. Won’t you be part of the chaos and think of dropping in from time to time to see if I’m surviving.
This is the blog of Joann Nelander. I write, shoot and post. sometimes a prayer, a poem, or what not. Leave me a line to two to make my day 
Abandonment to the Will of God,
That’s the Call.
What is holding you back
From accepting the Cross?
Give God your plans.
Give God your anger.
Give God your pain.
Give God your way.
Give God the nails
That nail you to your will.
Allow the nails in His Hands
To hold you fast with Him.
Our mouths may praise
His Father with Him
In this the Holy Hour of Abandonment.
We call His Name
As the crowds cry “Crucify.”
This is the hour for prayer.
Then shall come the fruit of Crucifixion,
Then will God’s Justice descend,
Then will the rain fall.
In each heart that looks,
Cries, mourns,
Goes to their homes disheartened,
And yet believes,
A flower will grow.
God will yet feed the multitude,
Not with the bread of Mammon,
But with His Holy Flesh
Willing supplied,
The same flesh
Savagely devoured
By the mob.
As the praise goes up,
Then will His Reign begin,
Then will God bless the Land,
Then will the Father
Kiss the multitude
Who dared lift the Son
High above the Earth.
©2012 Joann Nelander
Abandonment (Read by author)
Hour of Darkness (Read by author)
To the Cross we go,
A Nation hanging,
Lifted on the wood,
Drying up, exposed,
Blood drained
In a hemorrhage
Of its young.
Did you watch?
We’re you one
To wring your hands?
Were your hearts wrenched,
Or did you party
With the crowd
As the veil
Of the Temple
Was torn in two?
Suffer the Moment
Hoping with Love,
That the curtain,
Was split
From top to bottom.
That even now,
In the darkest hour
Of choice’s choosing,
When Herod has opened
Yet another womb,
Salvation is found in Crucifixion,
Still God will shine through
The gaping Wound in His Side,
As God is want to do.
©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved
Hour of Darkness (Read by author)
There is only one heart so pure,
As to remain demure,
One life lived in blessed union
With Your Own.
One so holy
As to share Your throne.
Solomon, in His wisdom
A type of Christ,
Rose from his kingly chair
To seat his mother
By his side,
Thereby made clear
Her stature in his sight,
Made queenly and motherly ruling
Her right.
Queen Mother, most pure and holy,
By the Father ‘s will made New Eve
To the New Adam, His Son,
A Spouse of God,
Of flesh and blood,
To share the rule
Of David’s Promised House.
When courted by the Holy Spirit
Your “Fiat”
Made you One
To bring forth
Holy Son.
Purity of Heart Audio podcast
Copyright Joann Nelander 2012
All rights reserved
A Nation cries
In want of Thee.
Time hurries,
All the while consuming,
That which our hands have built.
Our plenty devoured
In furnaces of desire.
“More, give us more,
The engines roar. ”
You wait,
That we might recognize
Your reign.
Your sun rises on each new day.
You are patient.
Wait, wait, wait….
Obedience is not our way.
We turn only blind eyes
And misprize chastisement’s scourge.
We know only
The gates of Hell demand,
Demand our sacrifice,
Human sacrifice.
We do not deny them.
No place too sacred to invade.
Give the gods their due,
For they pay our way.
After all, we are only clay,
Living to be merry
One more day.
You speak of Love and Eternity.
Our bellies cry out “Now”
“Who needs Your Throne!”
Give us bread without God Alone.
Our way,
Just one more day.
©2012 Joann Nelander All rights reserved
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