Sep 23, 2016




Jerusalem: City where the Prophets died
a martyr’s death, at frightened unbelieving hands.
The prophet’s sin? They spoke God’s message without fear.
And you thought you were doing God a favor. So
you killed to drown the words that rang within your ear.

Jerusalem: City of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Rose of Sharon, wandered through your cobbled streets.
Spoke in your Temple, as a boy of twelve. Forthright-
words of grace and wisdom fell from His youthful lips,
amazing learned priests, who listened to His Scripts.

Jerusalem (City that your Holy God still loves)
Where the lily of the Valley, was betrayed
in the Garden of Gethsemane, while He prayed!
This man, just thirty-three, the Virgin Mary’s heir,
was crucified beside your busy thoroughfare.

Jerusalem: City of the Holy Spirit.
Pilgrims come to “walk-the-walk” your Messiah took,
up the Via Dolorosa; the street, with tortured breath.
On this cobbled street, where His followers come to pray;
People shriek their wares, where once they screamed ‘Crucify’.

Jerusalem: City of Christ crucified.
Commercialism spreads its curse from church to church.
On ‘Holy sites’ where once He preached, they claim!
Selling, hawking, peddling icons, baubles, trinkets –
Still, you dishonor Father’s House with mammon’s shame!

Jerusalem: City over which He wept.
‘Twas thus, because He saw, that through the present,
past and future, you learned, zilch, as years have fled.
You’re still a tree without a fig to serve your Lord.
“Peace, you cry. We’ve suffered much.”
True, and so has He.


  1. Jean Says: September 25, 2016 9:30 pm

    Beautiful – what a wonderful gift to the generations are her thoughts.

  2. Lynn Severance Says: September 26, 2016 8:44 pm

    Treena’s insights always give me much to ponder. Thank you for honoring her in this way, Graham – reading aloud her words with your love for her and for them evident. It allows each of we readers to let the Holy Spirit bring to us what we are to receive.

    I remember the privilege I had many years ago to visit Israel. I remember how I anticipated “walking in the steps” where Jesus once had trod. Yet what Treena says is true. Many of those sacred spaces are filled with those seemingly oblivious to anything sacred but hawking their goods.

    The places that felt sacred to me: swimming out a ways in the Sea of Galilee and looking up at the mountains knowing that same water and hills remained unmarred, picking up tiny shells on the shore to bring back to give as gifts for they were reality unmarred over the centuries. And I remember the priest who was with our group offering Mass and our receiving Eucharist under the stars as we sat in the grass one evening near the shore of Galilee. We joined hands in saying the Lord’s Prayer and as I looked up, seeing those same stars Jesus saw when seeking his Father, I was not the only one in that circle that had tears flowing in sacred recognition.

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