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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Jesus

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Joseph Son of David Son of Man Jesus

Perseverance

A Miracle

Gliding along the currents of air,

I’m lifted by the light that shines on me.

Love permeates my being,

Like a spear piercing my side.

The nails are hammered through

My ragged wrists. I cry out,

My God, my God, why?

Have you forsaken me?

The dusk descends and they lower

My cross, loosen my body

And carry me to my tomb.

I stand on a mountaintop.

Throw yourself down!

God’s angels will save you.

Turn these stones into bread.

You are hungry. Go ahead.

Freedom! I am set free by God’s hand.

Risen at last and the tombstone

Is rolled away.

Headed Down

Flying in circles,

Spiraling down,

Headed straight

For the barren ground.

Screaming for my god

To save me today.

If only have mercy,

A bit of grace.

I see the red flags

Following me.

Everyone knows

My mind tends to flee.

Can you see the remnant

Of my failing try?

Can you see me fall

From up on high?

I’m headed down

To the barren ground,

To dig me a hole

And never come out.

Trust

Rasping, coughing,

Breathing deep.

Crushing, drowning,

How I weep.

Lift my spirit

With your Spirit,

Living God of the ages.

I will trust your gentle hand.

I will hope for the promised land.

You will save me,

Hold me, keep me.

You are always faithful.

Making Peace

Miles of smiles cramp my style.

I sing because I’m drunk, I say.

Nothing to worry about.

The same old message, coming clean.

The same old, same old everything.

Can you tell I’d rather be there?

Can you see the when and the where?

I care about her much,

All her loved ones and such.

I am just not in synch.

I’m trailing badly. That’s what I think.

If you’ve got a bit of luck,

You can help me get unstuck.

If you think that there is hope

I’ll be gliding down a slope.

I will trust the good God’s keeping.

You won’t catch me if I’m weeping.

I’ll make sure there is a gift.

It’s such a thrill. My face will lift.

We’ll provide a settlement.

Would you like a candy spearmint?

True for You

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Little trigger happy elf,
Sauntering down the road,
Can you tell me
What life is all about?

Pretty dream girl,
Can you tell me of
Sad stories, but true,
Scars to sympathize with you?

Happy baby,
Bouncing on
Your Daddy’s knee,
Can you tell me

What you will see
In this great big world,
Eventually?
I wonder.

We all have stories
That we can tell.
We all know mysteries
That we can share.

We know things,
From insight
And experience,
And, perhaps,

From God.
What is true for you,
May be true for me, too.
But, then again,

Maybe not.
But, perhaps,
That is another truth
In itself.

Pro-Choice Battles

March for Women's Lives, 2004
Image via Wikipedia

One day I joined up with some ultra religious

types like myself to join a demonstration in

hopes of “glorifying God” and “witnessing to some

sinners”. The pastors signs said “God is Love.”

” Most of our signs said “Abortion Kills”.  It was

these signs, along with our very self-righteous

presence that brought upon the angry looks,

shouts and screams, and vicious insults from the

members of the pro-choice parade to which we

were protesting.  I held up my sign because i

believed that abortion was wrong, but I was

watching and listening to the message beimg

given by the other side.  They were more

passionate, more painful, more desperate. I

walked away from that protest a changed man.

I still felt strongly about the right-to-life, but my

lot lay with those suffering women. I would go on

to refer to myself as “pro-choice”, and those are

fightin’ words in the Bible Belt.

Tuesday Tryouts: Epiphany Poems

Death Waits

Swallowtail dying
Image via Wikipedia

Tricks lick ticks from the tongue.

Reaching slowly for a gun.

Running swiftly for your son.

He won’t help you now.

Pray.  Pray to the God of the Heavens,

That He will have mercy on your wretched,

Squeamish soul as you crawl through the

Dirt, hoping for one last breath.

Death comes to us all.  Beneath our hopes

And dreams, denials and delusions, we all

Know it.  Death whispers our name as we

Get ready for work, as we drive to work,

As we forget out troubles in our daily routine,

As we come home to our spouse and children,

As we lay our heads on the pillow and fade off

To sleep.  Death watches us breathe.  Death

Hears our yearnings, our curses, our sighs.

Death is our constant companion from “the

cradle to the grave”.  Death waits.