We the Church

Cross swinging from a chain? Sitting in church every Sunday? Giving to the church? Teaching Sunday School? What makes a Christian? As if that matters anymore. The world has written us off as elitist, racist, oppressive, unwelcoming, manipulative, money grabbing, ignorant, delusional…the list goes on. When will we realize that inside we are all the same? Mexican, Russian or African; Christian, Muslim or Jew. Or whatever. We all want to be safe, secure and part of a loving community. Maybe we need to do away with religion so we can concentrate on the spiritual. Love is the common bond for all of us.

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Perfection

Intimate numbing of the minds a creative

Return to the clock strikes early too much

Peanut butter toast will fill your belly on

Old bread, but whole grain, mind you, if

The body strikes the notch skill might

Let’s go fishing from the pier at the back

Of our most scary imagination in the spot

Where we throw it all in the blender we

Hope something good will come of it but

Nothing ever does we keep on, not quite

Realizing the insanity of it all, the tiny bit

Morphs into the demon on your shoulder,

It clings, it sings, it whispers things that

Might disturb you, with a healthy set of

Wings, in a life of purity, of paradise, of

No stress or money. So, what do you do,

In this new found string of past times and

Experiential happenings, a couple stings,

For the family winged way to perfection

In the Light

It must be nice, to wear whatever fits,

And still look spectacular.

It must be nice, to show yourself off

To the rest of the world, for any excuse.

How does it feel, to be used for your body,

Treated like an object, a toy, a decoration?

We’re all pulled in, to believe the lies

About beauty and happiness.

Solomon had every woman around,

Being a king, with power and wealth.

But he concluded that having it all

Is meaningless, just an ego trip.

If you want happiness, look inside.

You’ll find a hurting child,

Desperate for attention, love and value.

Then take that child by the hand.

Lead her to the safety, security,

Wisdom and healing power

Of a loving Father, who does not judge,

But forgives, and will hold her

In his arms, until she cries it all out,

And then starts to trust him,

A little more each day, through all

The storms of life that come.

She will be ready, for she will know,

The battle is the Lord’s, not hers.

She only has to trust him,

And walk in his light.

In Whom Am I Rooted?

1.

Roots are meant to hold a tree up,

But as they age, with more limbs

And leaves, the roots take on another

Purpose, as well. The roots begin to hold

A tree down, not because it might fly up,

But because the tree may topple over,

With all the additional weight.

2.

So, my roots are important, as a part
Of my foundation, including

The people who have sought me out,

To give me support, to love me,

In my time of need,

My friends and family,

Reminding each other of all that’s been,

And the hope that exists

Based on all of my unique strengths.

3.

So, I’ve had to take a couple steps back,
To relearn some life lessons,

And to venture out again

With newfound strengths,

Realizing I have gained so much,

Over the years.

4.

And then there’s God,
A broken relationship,

From a long time ago,

A fearful one at best,

But one easily ignored, to a point.

As a child of God,

Now I’m listening to my life,

And now I seek him out,

As he has always sought me out.

5.

In holy places,

Full of those who love God’s children,

I’ve heard God say,

“Do you want to be healed?”

And, then,

“Who do you say that I am?”

I ponder in my heart,

These very true questions.

For how long have I run from the truth?

And how many times have I denied,

Who and what he is,

God incarnate,

Come to take away the sins of the world?