Despised
by calloused habit
and supercilious
attitudes,
Samaritans were
considered
disposable
by Jews.
Strife strafed
interactions
again and
again
over centuries.
When interrogating
fine points of
Jewish Law,
one asked,
"Who is (and isn't)
my neighbor?"
In Jesus-style,
a story will suffice.
On a dangerous stretch
of road - or dark alley
amid the stench of garbage -
a man (Generic Joe)
is attacked.
A Jewish priest sees
and looks away
but a despised one
(Samaritan, no less),
feeling gut-wrenching
compassion,
is moved to action.
Go.
Do like the Samaritan.
Neighborhoods have
no limits on love.
Every human being
is my neighbor.
Racism is the antithesis
of neighbor-love.
Artificial boundaries
are abhorrent to God
and must be exposed
and torn down
by all who follow Christ.
Look first within.
Acknowledge and let go
of privilege and
entitlement -
not God-given rights,
but man-made constructs
designed to perpetuate
the illegitimate legacies
of those in power.
Pray for and with
compassion.
Then act
like the Samaritan
who exchanged
hatred and fear
for loving deeds.
How I wish our resident poet, Carol, had been here for this one. My words will not come close to conveying this message. Perhaps she will listen and respond later?
Three given
Varying amounts
To manage for the master.
Committed,
Two risked full treasure
Holding back nothing.
The joy approval and pleasure
Of the master,
Motivation for action.
Preserving his nest egg
Fear digging the hide-out,
The third's tentative, indecisive
Exertion fueled by anxiety.
Well done, not "productive" or "successful,"
But faithful servant,
Risking all.
Enter joy with me.
No justification enough
To hinder hesitation's reward
Discipline for fear of failure
Be gone from me.
Trust His goodness
Silence faint-heartedness.
Commit your treasure.
Be willing, faithful.
Such beauty
in air, soft as dust,
filtering in fingers
through maple green.
The limestone path
calmly curves
and crunches
beneath my shoes
as I strive to
stay in each moment
as it whispers;
in each breath
as it leaves my lungs
and returns again,
as if on a tether.
A yellow-black
tiger swallowtail
flicks its way to and fro
up a golden beam,
in and out of shadow green
and ferns quiver.
Such senseless beauty
lavished upon us,
spilling over
earth's altar
even amidst the charred remains
of bombed out cities,
twisted limbs,
hearts shattered
and innocence obliterated.
That such ugliness
and such beauty
should be siblings of the same
Father and not
cancel each other out
but co-exist,
contrasting and complementing
each other
stuns me anew
with every inhalation.
Good and evil exist -
there is no avoiding
this.
Prayers fail,
hurt happens
and we wonder
if God cares.
The ancient question
of God's essential nature
bumps against
our inner eyelids
too often
to be ignored.
So, how should we pray?
There are formulas
to follow,
principles to adhere to -
enough to make one's head spin.
But is it about me
and what I need to do?
Or is it about
the God I pray to?
Who is He anyway?
He is a worthy father
who provides
and forgives.
He outshines
your best friend,
who will gladly
give you
whatever you need.
His father love
exceeds that of
the best earthly father
who would lay down
his life for his child.
This is who you address
your concerns to
in this world
of shadows.
Paint your picture
of God
not by the brokenness
and empty blackness
that assuredly exists,
but by a knowledge
of His essential goodness,
holding tightly
to His hand
at the very rim
of the precipice.
An object of desire,
worth risk
and sacrifice
makes for a good story
and a good life.
What is my desire?
What do I most want -
the deep down motivating
chords
I tremble to...?
In a corrupt country,
sharply divided,
one downtrodden,
stepped upon peasant
finds a winning ticket,
buried.
Covering his bets,
he pools his resources
(meager and precious though they be)
to purchase the location
so no questions will
be asked.
The treasure is worth
any sacrifice.
On the other side of town,
a pearl merchant,
a connoisseur of glowing orbs,
stumbles
upon perfection.
Breathless with delight,
he jettisons his entire wealth
to own
that one
precious
gem.
Whether earnestly sought
or chanced upon,
God's kingdom
is like these:
a treasure
of infinite worth.
And He who offers
this incredible gift
sees me -
broken and flawed -
as a treasure
worth sacrificing
His all
to win.
If I listen closely,
I can hear
a thrumming
in the air
and my
heart stirs.
Think.
Let it sink
in.
Ears.
Let them hear
clear.
It's like this...
or
like this...
Words to widen
the window
on the world.
Why these words?
"mustard seeds"
"birds in trees"?
Kingdoms
as giant topiary,
roots splayed,
inhabited by flocks,
familiar iconography
to listening ears.
Side-by-side,
the minuscule seed
and the monstrous tree
seem absurd
yet
growth happens.
Yeast engenders growth,
transforming lifeless globs
into inflated puffs
ready for baking.
Hiding in the open,
the yeast of Christ
has grown
and changed
the world
in ways often
imperceptible
unless you listen
and hear,
look
and see:
"life matters"
"the world is discover-able"
"people have value
and rights"
Growth amazes.
Seeds or yeast
encased in darkness,
begin to stir,
transform,
mutate,
enlarge...
a verdant aviary;
bread for nations;
new and
abundant life.
"It just so happens."
Casual sounding words
to describe
intricate, precision planning
by a Master Creator.
Mysterious
but deeply good
is the heart
of our God.
What a troubling mixture
- easy to see in reverse
but in the maddening moment
like walking blindfolded
in a mine field.
Pockets of beauty
in the midst of destruction
feed the soul.
If faithfulness defines character
what does doubt define?
Self-focus creates the whirlwind
that throws sand in the eyes
of those who wander,
lost in the desert.
Stepping out
and doing something
allows God to weave
his intricate plan.
One step,
then two
in a specific direction
equals progress
of some sort...
trust is essential
when the path
leads up hill
after hill
and
the desert air
is dry.
Trust that an oasis
lies ahead;
that one day
you will look back
and say,
"it just so happens."
