Holy Luck

Eugene H. Peterson

• Publisher: Eerdmans
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781467465953
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Religious Poetry
• Index: Literature

Throughout his many years of pastoral ministry, almost everything Eugene Peterson has done -- preaching, teaching, praying, counseling, writing -- has involved words. To keep himself attuned to the power of words and to help himself use language with precision and imagination, Peterson both reads and writes poetry.Holy Luck presents, in one luminous volume, seventy poems by Peterson, most of them not previously published. Speaking to various aspects of "Kingdom of God" living, these poems are arranged in three sets: Holy Luck -- poems arising out of the Beatitudes
The Rustling Grass -- poems opening up invisible Kingdom realities through particular created things
Smooth Stones -- occasional poems about discovering significance in every detail encountered while following Jesus
Echoing the language of Peterson's popular Bible translation, The Message, the poems in Holy Luck are well suited for devotional purposes. An ideal gift item, this volume is one that readers will look to again and again.

II. The Rustling Grass

In the rustling grass

I hear him pass;

He speaks to me everywhere.

MALTBIE BABCOCK

Cradle

She gave birth to her first-born son

And wrapped him in swaddling clothes,

And laid him in a manger.

LUKE 2:7

For us who have only known approximate fathers

And mothers manqué, this child is a surprise:

A sudden coming true of all we hoped

Might happen. Hoarded hopes fed by prophecies,

Old sermons and song fragments now cry

Coo and gurgle in the cradle, a babbling

Proto-language which as soon as it gets

A tongue (and we, of course, grow open ears)

Will say the big nouns: joy, glory, peace;

And live the best verbs: love, forgive, save.

Along with the swaddling clothes the words are washed

Of every soiling sentiment, scrubbed clean

Of all failed promises, then hung in the world’s

Backyard dazzling white, billowing gospel.

Dream

… an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream

MATTHEW 1:20

Amiably conversant with virtue and evil,

The righteousness of Joseph and wickedness

Of Herod, I’m ever and always a stranger to grace.

I need this annual angel visitation

— sudden dive by dream to reality —

To know the virgin conceives and God is with us.

The dream powers its way through winter weather

And gives me vision to see the Jesus gift.

Light from the dream lasts a year. Impervious

To equinox and solstice it makes twelve months

Of daylight by which I see the crèche where my

Redeemer lives. Archetypes of praise take shape

Deep in my spirit. As autumn wanes I count

The days ’til I will have the dream again.

Tree

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse,

And a branch shall grow out of his roots.

ISAIAH 11:1

Jesse’s roots, composted with carcasses

Of dove and lamb, parchments of ox and goat,

Centuries of dried up prayers and bloody

Sacrifice, now bear me gospel fruit.

David’s branch fed on kosher soil

Blossoms a messianic flower, and then

Ripens into a kingdom crop, conserving

The fragrance and warmth of spring for winter use.

Holy Spirit, shake our family tree;

Release your ripened fruit to our outstretched arms.

I’d like to see my children sink their teeth

Into promised land pomegranates

And Canaan grapes, bushel gifts of God,

While I skip a grace rope to a Christ tune.

Present

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given … and his name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of peace.

ISAIAH 9:6

Half-sick with excitement and under garish lights

I do it again, year after year after year

I can’t wait to plunder the boxes, then show

And tell my friends: Look what I got!

I rip the tissues from every gift but find

That all the labels lied. Stones.

And my heart a stone. “Dead in trespasses

And sin.” The lights go out. Later my eyes,

Accustomed to the dark, see wrapped

In Christ-foil and ribboned in Spirit-colors

The multi-named messiah, love labels

On a faith shape, every name a promise

And every promise a present, made and named

All in the same breath. I accept.

Kiss

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;

Righteousness and peace will kiss each other.

PSALM 85:10

Stray affections, following their noses,

Get me into all kinds of trouble, from trampling

Beds of roses to scattering unbagged garbage.

And then the trails grow cold. It is “winter

All the time and Christmas never comes,”

’til pulled on tip-toe to get it full on the lips

Under the psalmic mistletoe I’m kissed.

Peace compressed into lips that make a sign

Of love slowly releases eternity

Into time: I’m touched into joy.

Always awkward with h...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Introduction
• I. Holy Luck
• II. The Rustling Grass
• III. Smooth Stones (Occasional Poems)