Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 It is my Lent  to break my Lent, To eat when I would fast, To know when slender strength is spent, Take shelter from the blast When I would run with wind and rain, To sleep when I would watch.  It is my lent to smile at pain But not ignore its touch. It is my Lent to listen well When I would be alone, To talk when I would rather dwell In silence, turn from none Who call on me, to try to see That what is truly meant Is not my choice. If Christ's I'd be It's thus I'll keep my Lent.

It was a time like this, war and tumult of war, a horror in the air, Hungry yawned the abyss- and yet there came the star and the child most wonderfully there. It was a time like this of fear and lust for power, license and greed and blight- and yet the Prince of Bliss came into the darkest hour in quiet and silent light. And in a time like this how celebrate his birth when all things fall apart? Ah! wonderful it is with no room on the earth the stable is our heart.

 This is no time for a child to be born, With the earth betrayed by war & hate And a comet slashing the sky to warn That time runs out & the sun burns late. That was no time for a child to be born, In a land in the crushing grip of Rome; Honour & truth were trampled by scorn- Yet here did the Saviour make his home, When is the time for love to be born? The inn is full on the planet earth, And by a comet the sky is torn- Yet love still takes the risk of birth.

This is no time for a child to be born, With the earth betrayed by war & hate And a comet slashing the sky to warn That time runs out & the sun burns late. That was no time for a child to be born In a land in the crushing grip of Rome: Honour and truth were trampled by scorn- Yet here did the Savior make his home. When is the time for love to be born? The inn is full on planet earth, And by a comet the sky is torn- Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

This is no time for a child to be born, With the earth betrayed by war & hate And a comet slashing the sky to warn That time runs out & the sun burns late. That was no time for a child to be born, In a land in the crushing grip of Rome; Honour & truth were trampled by scorn- Yet here did the Saviour make his home. When is the time for love to be born? The inn is full on planet earth, And by a comet the sky is torn- Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.