THE KINGS CROWN

We are now over half way through lent and two weeks to the beginning of holy week. The Thusday before Easter Sunday is known as holy Thursday. On holy Thursday evening Jesus was arrested. Before he was arrested he had supper with His twelve apostles. These twelve apostles had followed Jesus for the previous three years and He would confide in them as one would with the closest of his friends.

At the last supper Jesus instituted the Blessed Eucharist. He gave His apostles (the first catholic priests) the power to change bread and wine into His body and blood. Jesus has stated, "unless you eat My flesh and drink My blood you will not have real life within you." The blessed eucharist is the central part of the mass which is celebrated by the catholic priest today.

Good Friday was the day they crucified Jesus. Before He was crucified He was beaten badly and mocked. He had claimed to be the Son of God and to be a King. He was being very humble in claiming to be the Son of God and a King. Being humble means being just what you are. And Jesus was the Son of God and a King. A King whose kingdom is heaven. A crown was made for Jesus by those who were mocking Him. The crown was made from sharp thorns and knocked down on His head. All of this torment and suffering by an innocent man for the salvation of mankind. Thank you so much Dear Jesus for what you did for us.

I have called the following poem THE KINGS CROWN.

THE KINGS CROWN
by
J. A. Fullerton

‘You are a king are you’ – they did say
So the part you have better play
From these thorns we’ll make a crown
Then with great force we’ll knock it down
Upon your head and watch your face flinch
We’ll knock in the thorns inch by inch.
For you are a king so you say
If not you’ll be a king for a day.

Oh, how Our Lord must have felt
With all of it only He could have dealt.
For the truth is as we know
He is a king and He did show –
His great love for His subjects
None of which he sees as rejects
So let us all bow to our king
Whom we all should love more than anything.



‘My God, Oh how we love you’

THE SOLDIER

I once saw an old movie about a roman soldier who had returned to Rome after spending some time in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus. He was greatly affected by his encounter with Jesus and was leading a christian life. After seeing the movie I wrote the following poem.

THE SOLDIER
by
J. A. Fullerton

I was a Roman centurion twenty years ago
From Rome to Jerusalem I did go
I met a man on the road one day
And in my mind His image did stay.

He looked at me,His eyes were kind
They say He healed the deaf and blind
As I rode my horse away
I just couldn’t forget that day.

I saw Him again some time later on
They said He had done something wrong
He had claimed to be a king
But I don’t think He had done anything.

He was sentenced on a cross to die
To this day I can’t think why?
He had claimed to be God’s Son
And I believe Him more than anyone.

MY FATHER'S LOVE

Last Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent and six weeks till Easter. Lent for catholics is a time for prayer and penance. Time to make little sacrifices such as give up things that we like to do as a form of penance. Giving up things such as sweets and making an effort to try to be a better christian.

Most people are born to live and we are judged by the life we live. But Our Blessed Lord was born to die. From the time He was a little boy He knew that some day He would be crucified on a cross for the sins of others. My God, Oh how we love you!

During His life it was love that sustained Jesus. Mainly the love of His mother and Father.

From a leaflet on the stations of the cross that I picked up in church I wrote a poem that I called My Father's love.

My FATHER’S LOVE
by
J. A. Fullerton

My life was incomplete
Until I crowned it with my death
On the cross my deathbed
Was where I took my final breath.
Your ‘way’ will not be complete
Until you crown it with your life
Your will belongs to you alone
But please listen to my advice.

The cross, the chunk of tree
Is what My Father chose for me
The poorest king who ever lived
Not even the cross was mine you see
Yet who has ever lived been so rich?
For I own all, My Father’s love
For that light you see shinning down upon the cross
Comes from My Father up above.

My cross becomes a pulpit
And My life is now complete
My Mother cradles me in her arms
And Mary of Magdalen does weep.
My life’s work is done
And My work within and through the Church must now commence
I look to you my other self
To be my disciple, victim, saint with no pretence.