The Formerly Blind Man Remembers (poem) by J. Marshall Jenkins “Tell no one,” he insisted after spitting on dust and rubbing the mud in my eyes until I saw, before anything else, his face. Now I understand: Time ripens like a fig, does no good plucked too soon, no...
The Denial “Woman, I know him not,” Peter replied on behalf of us all. Give him credit: He did not altogether lie. Who then could claim to know Christ? Time and again he worked wonders and forbade the healed to tell, a futile command, true, but to our eyes, it...
Knowing Wind for Wanda by J. Marshall Jenkins The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit (John 3:8). You teach me much about trees,...
Bare Winter Trees J. Marshall Jenkins In my hurry to the mailbox this cold December morning, bare winter trees draw my gaze from rain soaked roots up to manifold etched fingers pointing - look! – to gray cloud cover sagging under light poised to burst through....