Sunday, September 25, 2016

An Encounter Along Emmaus Road

Photo credit:
Luke 24:13-35


Cleopas and friend walked and talked
with lumbering gaits and downcast faces
shining hopes of sweet redemption
dashed and obliterated

They asked of each other the Why question
for if anyone had come to fill those old prophecies
surely it had seemed to be Him
that Jesus they'd come to know
through signs and wonders
that appeared to be miraculous

Their so-called Messiah had been crucified
was dead and gone. Yes, gone, gone, gone!
Even His cold dead body was missing
from the tomb that had been sealed—

He approached them
in the midst of their perplexity
on the road to Emmaus
He walked with them, talked with them
they even felt His fire
but didn't know who He was

and strange as that may seem
how often have I been
the unnamed friend of Cleopas?
I, too, profess to know Him, know Him well
yet fail to recognize Him along the road


Taking the barley loaf in his hands
the stranger lifted it

Baruch ata Adonai
Eloheynu Melech ha Olam
ha motzie lechem
min ha'aretz

He tore it, offered it, and just as it fell
into reaching grasps
their astonished eyes recognized Him
and in that instant
He utterly vanished from their sight!

Leaping from the table, Cleopas and his friend
stumbled over each other
looking under, over, around and around
knowing even as they did
it was True after all

As they looked at each other
their disbelief became relief
the sweet awakening of a deep Belief

for Truth visited them along the way
joined them at their table, broke their humble bread
They asked each other

Were not our hearts burning
as He talked with us on the road
and opened the Scriptures to us?

Now, blazing temples of Holy Fire
they suddenly knew their once shattered hearts
would never cool again


When I first found You, or You found me
I thought I'd go from strength to strength
pinnacle to pinnacle, joy to joy
and so it was for a season
when love was new

then the whirlwind came
thrashing through my world
upending all my securities
leaving me stunned, broken, alone
certain I would die

so I waited for You to save me
waited for prayers pleaded at Your scarred feet
to avail their just reward
for I believed in You, trusted, hoped
Eyes veiled, I couldn't find You
failed to recognize You along the road

Had I believed in vain?

Then You began to speak
not audibly, but  whenever I opened Your Word
Radiance, Glory, Unfailing Love
sprang from the page and became manifest
My heart blazed! I began to shine!

Now, on the other side of sorrow
I dare not forget my burning heart,
Your Glorious Presence
so I abide, remembering
it is You, my Jesus
Who walks with me along the road

Maude Carolan

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Bumper Stickers Matter...

The following poem tells a true story
from many years ago:


I’m heading home, the hour is late;
behind the wheel in a drowsy state.
Open the window; turn volume high;
nibble some chocolate…I’m soooo, soooo tired!

Slap at my cheeks to stay awake.
I mustn’t doze off, for Heaven’s sake!
Along with music, I sing and yawn…
eyelids are droopy; the road is long.

All efforts futile. My eyelids close.
My car veers leftward as I doze.
The swerve gives a jolt! My sedan snakes!
Nearly collide!!! Now I’m wide awake!

Continue with care. Lights flash, rear-view;
I pull right over…Only thing to do.
The officer carries a long flashlight;
shines it on my license plate, so bright!

It also shines, without a flicker…
on my Jesus is Wonderful! bumper sticker!
He didn’t sniff or ask if I’d had booze;
seemed to know this gal just took a snooze.

“You swerved back there,” the policeman said,
“You nearly hit me!” I gasped with dread!
Then, with a smile and tender tone
he asked me if I were headed home.

“Are you now alright to go your way?”
Whew! Jesus is Wonderful! saved the day!
Tip o’ hat. No ticket or breathalyzer…
Jesus, I promise, I’ll drive wiser.

Driving sleepy is foolish; I’m ashamed.
I deserved the ticket; deserve the blame.
People could’ve been killed at that swerve.
God’s grace is getting what we don’t deserve!

Maude Carolan Pych

Whew!!! Thank You, Jesus!

Thursday, September 15, 2016

It's all about...the Lamb - Vol. 19 Issue 3

September 15, 2016
Vol. 19, Issue 3

It’s all about…the Lamb
Photo credit:

Maude Carolan Pych/Quarterly Poetry Letter

Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches
and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.” Rev 5:12 NASB

It’s all about…the Lamb is a quarterly publication for followers of Yeshua/Jesus, the Holy Lamb of God, and people who enjoy poetry. The purpose is to magnify our Lord and Savior and inspire an ever-deepening relationship with Him, the lover of our souls.

New Release

The Book of Mysteries

By Jonathan Cahn

For months, our congregation has been anticipating the release of our pastor/rabbi’s new book. The official book launch was Sunday at the Jerusalem Center/Beth Israel Worship Center, Wayne, NJ. I eagerly purchased my copy and immediately began reading and unlocking, one by one, the 365 mysteries of the ages from the treasure chest that Jonathan Cahn has opened for us.
On the back cover, it says, “The Book of Mysteries is also a daily devotional unlike any
other—with things never before revealed, the most important keys of spiritual truth, end-time revelation, and the secrets of overcoming…It can even change your life!”

Jonathan’s previous two books, The Harbinger and The Mystery of the Shemitah, each had long runs on the New York Times best sellers list, and I’m certain his newest book will follow in their footprints.

**Early Announcement**

Save the Date

3rd Annual Music & Poetry Event
Christmas at the Ant

I’m so excited! Jim & Emily Gwyn have invited me back to read Christmas poetry at the Ant Bookstore, Saturday, December 17th at 7 p.m., 345 Clifton Avenue, Clifton, and this time Jim suggested I invite my poet/friends Pastor EJ Emerson and Sister Jane Abeln SMIC, to read with me. We’ll be joined, musically, by Victoria Warne, singer, songwriter and leader of the Victoria Warne Band. Music…Poetry…Refreshments! It’ll be a special and delightful evening in every way! Plan to join us.

Mark your calendar now so you don’t miss it.

**Featured Poem**

Several years ago, when my children were young, one Good Friday, we went as a family to visit the Holy Face Monastery in Clifton, NJ. One of the resident priests gave us a personal lecture on the Shroud of Turin. Using his pointer stick, he identified the wounds represented on the replica of the shroud, which many believe to be the actual shroud that covered the crucified body of Jesus in the tomb. Years later, I read a book by a French surgeon who studied the shroud and the wounds represented on it. The author was Pierre Barbet, the book, A Doctor at Calvary. At the conclusion of the book, Barbet wrote of the passion of Christ from the perspective of his findings. It was an unforgettable and moving account.

The poem that I have selected to share with you today was written many years back from memories of my visit to that monastery and some of what I remember from that amazing book.

+++The Poem Follows+++

Photo credit:


When I look upon Your Visage
and pierced, bruised Body
imprinted upon the winding sheet,
and contemplate
wounds You bore for me,
it causes me to quiver
with reverence and awe.
After two millennia
I witness Your Passion
mapped out
on a white linen proof-sheet.

Controversy has abounded
about the authenticity
of this ancient Shroud of Turin;
I leave it to greater minds
than mine to ponder.
As for me,
in my spirit I know,
it is You, my Lord.

Amazing. I can look
upon the negative
that’s positive
and actually see Your Face,
Your beautiful Holy Face,
suspended from Its Divine Agony
and interlude with death
when Your Majestic Imprint
burst upon the burial cloth.
Death sprang to Life
in that timeless flash-moment
of Resurrection. Glorious!

Lord, I see Strength,
unimaginable Endurance,
but even more, Peace
and the Countenance
of Unsurpassed Love.

Others may debate carbon dating.
Let them scrutinize and snip,
analyze in test tubes,
on smeared slides under microscopes,
and beneath glaring, blaring lights
until Your Second Coming!

As for me,
when I gaze into the negative
that’s positive
burnished miraculously
into that Holy Shroud
at the Climax of all time,
I accept with simple faith,
it is You, my Lord.

Maude Carolan

Comments are always welcome and appreciated.

Look for the next edition of It’s all about…the Lamb, December 15, 2016.


Dear Reader/Subscriber,

Here is a Scripture portion that beseeches the radiant Holy Face of God to shine upon His people. It’s the blessing that Aaron pronounced upon the sons of Israel:

“The Lord bless you, and keep you; The Lord make His face shine on you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance on you, And give you peace.” Numbers 6:24-26 NASB


After God’s Own Heart Publishing
P.O. Box 2211, Woodland Park, NJ 07424

Saturday, September 10, 2016

It Happened 15 Years Ago

Photo credit:


October 11, 2001

No one sees us weeping
No one sees us praying
No one sees us trying
to piece together pieces
in our private places, but
it’s flags we see

They color bustling boulevards
and line our sleepy side streets
Huge ones hang from poles
in front of municipal buildings
and are draped across storefronts
Star spangled banners wave briskly in the breeze
over our white-washed porches
We stick smaller ones in flower boxes
along with the chrysanthemums
Construction paper ensigns
are taped to every classroom window
Flags flutter from car antennae
and are glued to our bumpers
Ostentatious ones stream from rusty red pick-ups
and sleek eighteen-wheelers
Our colors are strung from bridges
and unfurled across overpasses
We even see them tied from tree to tree

Apollo Flag had customers lined up
outside and around the building for over a week
The front of an old clapboard house
on Webster Avenue is painted like Old Glory
and the cement retaining wall is studded with stars
The owner’s boss gave him the day off
to finish the job, and
The Philadelphia Inquirer
snapped it and printed it on Page 2
People drive by just to see it
A talented graphic artist painted
a weeping Lady Liberty
flanked by red, white and blue
on “The Wall” in Ringwood
as a poignant memorial to the missing

No one sees us weeping
No one sees us praying
No one sees us trying
to piece together pieces
in our private places, but
it’s flags we see
We see them on patriotic T-shirts
on rhinestone stars and stripes
and ribbons pinned to our lapels
We even place miniature banners
in miniature stands on shelves and desktops
and download tiny ones
to ever-wave in the lower right corner
of our computer screens
That magnificent banner
raised high above the wreckage and carnage
where until one month ago
the Twin Towers stood
is seared upon our memory banks

Suddenly, it’s not an occasional flag we see
not a rare salute
Suddenly, we’re singing “God Bless America”
and our national anthem, a little louder
a lot more earnestly
our hand placed firmly upon our heart
Suddenly, we’re more apt to shed
a “proud to be an American” tear
Suddenly, it’s not merely accustomed banners
flying from government buildings
and outside new car dealerships
Suddenly, the stars and stripes are not reserved
for Flag Day and the Fourth of July
Suddenly, we’re flying crisp new flags
of a crisp new patriotism
and frayed dingy flags
of a proud old patriotism, renewed

Tears may flow in secret
for the victims and ourselves
Heart-wrenched prayers may appear invisible
as they work in realms beyond what eyes can see
but in the light of day
and beneath porch lights at night
our true colors
our red, white and blue colors
fly boldly in terror’s twisted face
and it’s flags, flags, flags we see

Maude Carolan

Sunday, September 4, 2016

"Sunflowers Along Emmaus Road"

Look at my sunflower! Isn't it gorgeous? It bloomed for me yesterday morning in my backyard here in New Jersey and reminded me of a field of sunflowers I saw blooming along the road to Emmaus during a Holy Land pilgrimage in 1986.

Photo by Maude

Israel Pilgrimage—1986

Big, bodacious sunflowers
live up to their name
sun-shining a million
dazzling petal spires at us
along Emmaus Road

It is fitting
because I am ablaze
with Jesus-joy
to be here

as I think about my newly
Resurrected Lord, vanishing
at the very breaking
of the bread

astonishing the disciples
who sat with Him
at table

Those utterly bewildered disciples
whose hearts thumped
and blazed
with glory fire
as He walked with them
as He explained to them
the Holy Scriptures

2000 years ago
along this very road

Maude Carolan Pych