Poems for Sunday, November 9, 2025 (Feat. Kate Bluett)
Haggai 2:1-2:9, Job 19:23-27a, & Luke 20:27-38
Sunday Poems is a weekly publication that offers original poetry reflecting on the lectionary readings for the coming Sunday. This week’s poet is Kate Bluett. Kate Bluett is a poet and lyricist who has written with the Porter’s Gate and Paul Zach, among others. Her lyrics have also been published by OCP and GIA. She lives in north Texas with her husband and two sons
As Long As Days Shall Run After Haggai 2:1-2:9 Not for the house itself, not for its doors, its doorposts wrought of gold and filigree; not for the walls we labor, nor the floors; not for the past, but what is yet to be: not for our glory here, O Lord, but yours; not for the lost but those we’ve yet to see. The silver is yours, O Lord, the gold as well, and yours the hands that work them in the flame— not for an idol. Censer, lamp, and bell the wonder of your presence will proclaim, and yours the tongues that shall your glory tell where all the nations come to praise your name. Until that day, we work and shall not fear. The promise has its time, and it will come. We labor by your light and feel you near— and nearer still when all this work is done. This house has fallen, but our task is clear: to praise you, Lord, as long as days shall run. --- Look Upon God After Job 19:23-27a The temple of this body falls and rots— So be it. I will look upon my God. My vindicator lives, and in the end here he will stand. My ruins may not ever be rebuilt. Corrosions tarnish filigree and gilt. The Lord will give; the Lord will take away: I bless his name. But let these words in iron and in lead be writ in stone; forever they’ll be read: I am destroyed, but God will come to me, and I will see. Beyond my skin’s destruction, I will live and look upon the one who takes and gives. I long for this, far more than kin or gold: Let me behold. --- Diamonded by Grace After Luke 20:27-38 When every wall has fallen down, foundations shaken ‘til they crack and buried fathoms underground; when nothing’s left but need and lack, then every pebble will be found. Each stone we lost will be put back. For comes a mason, line in hand (a carpenter he was before) to lay the course he long has planned. That all the house may hold secure, himself the keystone then will stand. These fallen stones will rise once more. And all we loved, and all we lost, in his design shall take their place, each stone made new—not as it was, but mended, diamonded by grace. He shall make facets of our flaws, and we shall see, then, face to face.
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