Aliens in Egypt,
we threaten the natives
by our numbers
and ethnicity.
In self-defense
they oppress
and enslave us,
but massively incarcerated
and vilified daily
we grow strong.
Trembling leaders
plan mass genocide,
extinction,
infanticide...
Our people wail
and writhe
under the weight
of injustice.
In desperation,
quite likely many
baskets are set afloat,
but only one gets through:
Moses,
scooped from the Nile
and raised as one
of the enemy.
Yet somehow he
is schooled in
the history of his people
and his sense
of justice simmers.
After an overflow
of rage
goes awry,
and humility
paints him scarlet,
then
God speaks.
RESCUE
I hear you, My people
and My heart
aches for you.
I will break the chains
that bind you,
overthrow tyranny
and confound the laws
of nature -
have I not created it all?
Is it not mine to command?
I am the One and Only God
and you shall see
My power;
you shall feel My heart.
I will rescue you
from false idols,
from alienation
and homelessness,
and I will make you
a people
called by My own name.
MISSION
In the desert
I will sift you
finer than sand;
my sirocco winds
will blow away
the dust of worldly things -
see them tumble
down the dunes.
WAY
I will teach you
a new way
and you will see Me
for who I am.
I have saved you
and you are mine.
Now walk with Me
in a manner worthy of My name.
Let's set the fractured bones
of this world
and tenderly care
for every part
of my creation.
PRESENCE
And let us
dwell together,
you and I -
as close as shadows.
Learn from Me
how to see,
how to be.
I will water your
thirsty souls,
raise you up,
give you focus
and insight
so that you may
feed and sustain
those yet unborn.
My Beloved,
I give you a new
beginning,
a new community
built on My holy truths.
Hear them echo
down
the years.
What's the heart
of this journey we're on?
Shall we go first class,
in comfort,
complacent and entitled?
Shall we crawl
on bloodied, gravel-encrusted knees,
intent on martyrdom,
self-focused
and self-righteous?
Or shall we wait,
intent and receptive
to the Holy Spirit's
scalpel?
If we're traveling well,
the earth will tremble,
resistance will be the norm,
yet we'll press on.
We should be antonyms
to our cultural norms,
continually speaking truth
though ears seem closed
and scoffers turn stiff backs
or encroach threateningly.
Give us Holy Spirit vision
to see beyond denial
and cynicism -
bricks built up to barricade
us from one another.
Give us Holy Spirit power
to melt shields
with patient persistence,
waves upon stones.
As we rest,
fill us up -
expose us to ourselves
and hold us
as we weep
for shame;
Light the flame again
and fan it
into life-giving
light.
We are nomads,
traveling along
the arc of time
together.
Unchecked,
we will eventually
creak and crack
and wander.
So we pause
to survey maps
and reassess goals,
checking in with each other,
looking back over
our recent journey
to celebrate,
and critique;
looking forward
to plan pathways
and rest stops.
Re-invigoration:
a new wave of energy
that confirms
the relevance
and necessity
of good deeds,
exhausting as
they may well be
at times.
Enjoy this oasis
to recreate,
re-connect,
and dream.
Ominous rumblings vibrate,
salted with bubbling joy.
Hard times are ahead,
I won't lie about that,
but good times are coming,
I guarantee,
in the end.
Do you believe now?
Your loyalty will tested -
you think you have faith now?
Your faith will be torn
and shredded
by the hurricane to come.
You'll be separated
and will tremble
and cower,
knowing you should stand.
My words and deeds
have planted Truth in you
and it has taken root.
Though the storms to come
will cut this truth down,
yet, from broken stalks,
sprinkled with Spirit rain,
new and stronger
shoots will break forth.
It is beneficial
that I leave you now -
though it will shatter you -
because then the work begins,
when you know beyond doubt
that nothing,
nothing,
nothing,
comes from you -
it is all a gift from Us.
Give me your tiniest grain
and I will do the rest.
Your frailty is assumed,
understood
and foreseen.
It will not separate us,
though an abyss
may seem to yawn
between us.
Know this:
nothing [injustice, ugliness, apathy],
nothing [hypocrisy, laziness, messiness],
nothing [trauma, discouragement, affluenza]
can keep me
away from
my beloved.
Electrically charged ions
slither and snap
as befuddled minds grapple
with words that
seem senseless.
The "follow me" teacher
figures says, "stay here -
where I go,
you can't."
To astounded, gung-ho
volunteers,
He says, "No, you won't,
and what's more,
you'll fail me."
"Look at me
and you'd seen Him.
Don't you know me?
After all you've seen
and heard,
how could Kingdom,
earthly-law-defying-power
come from my hands alone?
Do you not trust me?"
Theory becomes personal
as they
and we
ponder.
How long have I known Him
and yet
I don't trust the intimacy
of true knowing?
Why does the risk
loom gigantic -
an insurmountable barrier
that paralyzes my feet?
Even though I straggle behind,
choosing shadows
and mere echoes of His voice,
still He turns
with kindness
and beckons
me closer.
Do I dare
(disturb the universe)?
And
do I
dare?
Shadows flicker upon the waters,
tattered beggars linger near;
broken, blind and injured
are drawn here -
it's become a daily ritual.
They are known to one another
and familiar
with the rough-hewn walls,
the water's gurgle,
the slant of sun.
Jesus asks us
are we ready to move on,
and we offer a panoply
of well-worn excuses
like pocketed stones
daily thumbed into
a slick shine.
Get up,
He says.
Take action.
Do something
to participate in the
healing forces
you so desire.
It's not enough to wallow
in the shallows.
Take a deep breath
and.get.up.
daily.
Pick up your mat,
worn-edged and
comforting.
Bring it with you
to demonstrate
how far you've come.
Shake out the dust
and fold it
over your trembling arm.
Never forget the "before" -
the day on day
and year on year
of desolated waiting.
Juxtapose it
with the wholeness of now,
the lightness of being,
the spring in your stride.
And if you still sit frozen,
invisible among the crowd,
ask yourself if you dare
to travel to the place
of wellness.
To get up may mean
to reach out,
to open up,
to try something new
and terrifying.
The place of wellness
is unfamiliar
and your equilibrium
may falter,
but don't forget
that Jesus also
calls us (after
rising and dusting
off our mat) to
follow (and lean
on)
Him.
