Jesus, source of living water,
when you went to the Jordan that day
to hear the Baptiser’s cry,
what did you come to see?
Did you go seeking advice
about the lonely life of the prophet?
Were you expecting to be moved
by his message? When you answered
his call to repent and joined him in the waters,
what were you thinking?
How did you decide that his strident
call to sinners needed the tempering
of love’s gracious invitation?
Tell me, Jesus, was there already
an inner growing gnawing realisation
that your carpenter’s skill
with timber, joints and nails
was about to give way to a new vocation
of stories, speakings, sharings
Or was it only when the Baptiser
took you into the cool water,
and you emerged, saturated,
and kissed by the Spirit-dove,
that you had any idea
of what the voice might be trying to say,
or of what a beloved son
might be expected to do?
© Ken Rookes
A second poem for Sunday can be found here.