Easter Day

Easter

Rainbow Cross

Suffocating night 
smothering, 
obliterating
the broken bloody body 
hammered hard, 
staining scarlet 
that cross 
of rough-cut wood

and thunder crashed 
the doom of death.

Then darkness fractured, 
light splintered, 
fragments of colour 
shot out into the brilliance 
of a multi-coloured Easter morning 
in a green garden.

And an empty cross 
rainbow-wrapped, 
images the promise 
of the death-defying dawn 
of new hope.

Marjorie Dobson © 2019 Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England copyright@stainer.co.uk. Please include any reproduction for local church use on your CCL Licence returns. All wider and any commercial use requires prior application to Stainer & Bell Ltd.
From Unravelling the Mysteries, Stainer & Bell Ltd., 2019.

Quite early one morning © Andrew Pratt

A strange new day

This is the day
when perfume remained unopened,
spices were no longer needed,
cloths and sponges were unused.

This is the day
when stone was no barrier,
soldiers abandoned guard duty,
grave clothes and tomb were empty.

This is the day
when the unexpected became reality,
a man asked awkward questions,
uttered unlikely proclamations.

This is the day
when bewilderment ruled,
fear was ever-present,
obedience the only option.

This is the day
when women left hurriedly,
uncertain and warily,
to tell a strange story
to an unbelieving audience,

For they did not know it,
but this is the day
when everything changed:
death was defeated,
new life was beginning,
hope overwhelming despair.

This is the day
of resurrection.

Marjorie Dobson © 2019 Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England copyright@stainer.co.uk. Please include any reproduction for local church use on your CCL Licence returns. All wider and any commercial use requires prior application to Stainer & Bell Ltd.
From Unravelling the Mysteries, Stainer & Bell Ltd., 2019.

Come in the morning

Come in the morning.
Come see the dawning.
Come to the garden –
life has broken through.

Jesus, dead and buried.
To his grave they hurried.
Anxious women found that
life had broken through.
Chorus

Soldiers could not keep him
for they were found sleepiing
and the tomb was open –
life had broken through.
Chorus

Peter, unbelieving,
left, still full of grieving.
Nothing would convince him
life had broken through.
Chorus

Mary, greatly shaken,
thought he had been taken.
Heard his voice that told her
life had broken through.
Chorus

Where there was despairing,
grief and horror sharing,
now there is a rumour
life has broken through.
Chorus

So God’s word is spoken,
when our hearts are broken
there will come a time when
new life will break through.
Chorus

Mary Magdalene

My name is Mary,
common enough in my time
to need to be identified by place, or family.
Mine is such a name.
They call me the Magdalene.

People call me other names.
Some claim I was a prostitute,
perhaps because the town whose name I bear
is famous for that trade.

Others question my sanity
and ask why it was necessary for that exorcism
of troubling devils to be performed.
They probably call me mad.

The other followers, male, of course,
know me as ‘one of the women’,
useful for everyday tasks, but mainly disregarded.

So on that day -
when all hope had drained after his execution,
the future seemed bleak and empty
and even the tomb appeared to have been raided
and his body stolen –
it was hardly surprising that the men ignored me,
ran back to the city and left me to weep alone.

The voice was kind and questioning
and I sobbed my story, not expecting help.
But it came, in one word.
‘Mary,’
from one who spoke my name as if it mattered.

My name is Mary.
His name was and is and always will be,
Jesus.

Safe, locked inside that upper room

Safe, locked inside that upper room,
too scared to let the truth be known,
disciples had to see their Lord
before that truth could be their own.

And Thomas, still so full of doubt,
would not believe the tales they told
till Christ appeared, to show his wounds -
then his conviction made him bold.

Yet doubts and fears returned again.
Once more they locked themselves away
until the Holy Spirit came
on that inspiring, vital day.

The truth is now a living fact.
The love of God can never die.
So bold apostles stood their ground –
their living Lord is not a lie.

We have not seen, but we believe
and we must witness by our faith
to living truth we have received,
awakened by the Spirit’s breath.

Poem: When what we thought was mystery

When what we thought was mystery
is rooted in the common place,
and God is found in those who love,
and those we love by grace;
then we have grasped the Christmas story,
reached its heart, beheld its glory.

When scourge and cross are recognised
in images from round the earth.
When we admit complicity
and gauge compassions' dearth;
then we have grasped the Easter story,
reached its heart, and felt its glory.

When love and justice magnify
and even mercy has no end;
when hostages find liberty
and enemies are friends;
then we have grasped the Spirit's story,
reached its heart, expressed its glory.

Andrew Pratt © 2004 Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England copyright@stainer.co.uk. Please include any reproduction for local church use on your CCL Licence returns. All wider and any commercial use requires prior application to Stainer & Bell Ltd.

Easter Day

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Andrew Pratt

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