A. Josef Greig

On the Seventh Day

In November 2009, the Spectrum blog published a multi-part poem by Andrews University emeritus professor A. Josef Greig, called Day Break on the Jabbok. Today, we are publishing an addendum to that poem. 

On the seventh day, at the rising 

Day Break On The Jabbok: Talking to Myself

I am an old man now, beyond three score years
and ten, if that counts for anything.

Day Break On The Jabbok: The Last Word

a poem in three days

Dedicated to the Memory of Mother Teresa Who Never Experienced Divine Assurance

You have answered me late in life,
yet I already knew your answers.
They are questions I suppressed in my youth.
My people were shaped by disappointment;
I am the offspring.
Your answers do not redeem a lost
devotion to your love and pledge.
I would hold onto your heel until
you deny your divinity, but I cannot.
I am stronger than you are; see how
you struggle to be free from my grip.
Yet my hand is on fire from holiness.
You slip away from me when the heat

Day Break On The Jabbok: Answers

a poem in three days

Dedicated to the Memory of Mother Teresa Who Never Experienced Divine Assurance

Answers:

I will give you a revelation.
You turned from the blind faith of your youth
to obstinacy. You questioned me from ignorance.
You are stubborn and unteachable, a shameless rebel.
You dwelt with the dissidents on the outskirts of the camp,
those who would not yield to Moses, yet the earth
did not swallow you, nor the fire consume you.
Though you were not among those who desired Egypt,
you imposed your will to possess the promised land
with Joshua and Caleb.

Day Break On The Jabbok: Prayers

a poem in three days

Dedicated to the Memory of Mother Teresa Who Never Experienced Divine Assurance

Prayers:

Lord, why do you hide from me;
you who asked for a sanctuary
that you might dwell among us,
become our flesh, sent your
spirit that space and time
would not be an impediment
to your presence?
Where shall I look that I might find you,
gain an understanding of your mysterious ways?
Your priests sacrificed me for their sins.
Help came too late; I bled out on the altar.
How shall I live again?
My grave stone called out my name;
with the help of the helpless



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