Knowing the truth is possible but being certain of the truth is not possible. Certainty is a luxury of the ignorant. There is an argument that can be made against the existence or presence or activity or feeling of about anything. Claiming certainty is possible only for those who ignore some or all of the facts. What is truth? Well, that depends on who you are, where you come from, how you were raised, etc. there is not one truth that is superior to all other truths. That’s ridiculous. The only thing certain about truth is that truth is not certain. It must be accepted by a leap of faith.
Tag: prayer
Walmart Pariah
A woman stands at the entrance
With a shopping cart full
Of her cherished belongings,
Waiting patiently on the generosity,
Or, rather, pity, or worse, guilt,
Of the passerby, to convict,
To shame, or maybe, on the rare instance,
To inspire, to give a gift.
Aren’t we all like her,
Dragging our materials
From house to house,
Packing them away
For that rainy or cold day,
That is sure to come?
Aren’t we petitioners
To passing angels or demons,
Or a god that plays favorites,
To have mercy or just indulge us,
One more time,
So we can get our fix,
Spoiled children of a wealthy parent,
Taken a few wrong turns on the streets,
The pariah or prodigal reduced to
Yearning after the feed of pigs,
Coming out of Walmart with
Their baskets full?
A Reflection on Juneteenth
Crimes unimaginable
Sins unfathomable
Wrongs not righted
With an apology,
A soft word,
Or the stroke of a pen.
Pain to the deepest parts
Of the heart and soul,
The very fiber of one’s being,
A wound that doesn’t heal,
But rather cuts deeper
With every smile,
Every handshake,
On every pay day,
Every trip to the grocery store,
Every night at mealtime,
When they look at their children,
When they look at ours.
Privilege continues
Despite the lip service,
Despite the promises,
Amidst the meager gifts,
The dregs of easy charity
From the tatters of a bursting purse,
The guilt trip laid on thick
To the middle class and even
The working poor.
Those that lack for food,
Clothing or shelter,
Living barely day to day,
Not knowing where one’s next
Meal will come from.
And at the church the preacher
Says try harder, pray more,
Save your dollars
So you can send your little ones
To a good college,
Make them study,
Keep them out of trouble,
Tell them you love them,
That you’re proud of them
For that report card.
What do you say
When the white kid
Calls them the n-word?
What do you say
When you don’t have a job
Because you refused
To kiss your supervisor’s butt
When he would talk to you
Like you were nothin’,
Just a cog in his machine,
A disposable, replaceable,
Optional, neglectable,
Insultable, disrespected,
Used, abused, tossed out
To the street
Like so much garbage,
Black man?
Power
Wrong meets right.
The fight is strong.
Laugh, they will.
Cry out, they must.
Shout, at the top of their lungs—
Justice must prevail.
So many innocent lives
Have been crushed by the fist
Of the oppressor!
So many suffer
Because of the greed
And the arrogance
Of the powerful.
The powerful?
Who is powerful?
What is power?
Don’t you know that
The wind has changed course
On this hot, dry day.
The wind! The water!
The earth! The animals!
The birds! The insects!
The trees! Yes, even the trees!
Look at an old oak tree,
And tell me about power!
Look at a rushing stream,
And tell me about power!
Watch a lion kill its prey,
And tell me about power!
Is a gun, power?
In the hands of a six year old, a gun is just as powerful as in the hands of a grown man!
A gun is just a tool.
It’s what you do with a tool
That makes it useful.
It’s what you do with a tool
That makes it powerful.
And when a thousand voices scream,
That’s power!
When the people speak as one,
That’s power!
Don’t be afraid.
Be excited!
Be joyful!
Be glad!
For power has come to the people,
And they will not be denied this moment.
They have prayed,
And they have worked,
And they have suffered
For this moment.
Listen to the wind blow
Through the trees!
Justice has come like a mighty rush of wind,
And anything that’s old, anything that’s weak,
Anything that’s not tied down tight,
Is gonna blow away!
Those old tricks, old ways,
Cowardly words, weak attitudes,
Straw men beware!
The wind of justice has come to blow you…
Away!
Mercy
Alone, but not alone.
God waits behind the curtain–
Or is it I that wait on God?
We wait on each other, then,
In a sort of waltz together,
Taking one step forward,
And one step back,
Rotating in circles,
Never completely meeting.
Oh, how my heart yearns
To connect to the holy one!
Like a child yearns
To be held by its mother,
So I crave the loving arms
Of my Creator.
My prayers of desperation
Fall down into the abyss.
My prostrate body
Aches with loneliness and pain
Of rejection and betrayal.
I must continue
To remain faithful,
But my soul is so weary.
How my enemies mock me,
Lord of All, please,
Be merciful.
Courageous Relationships (link to video)
www.saintpaulsumc.org/sermon/new-places-for-new-people-courageous-relationships/
Click on the above link to view a sermon by Rev. Dr. Kandace Brooks in which she challenges her congregation to step out of their comfort zones and reach out to others, to ask for help or to be of help, specifically to the mentally ill, suicidal, etc.
Make A Difference
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We Are One
I waited for you
On top of the mountain,
But you didn’t show.
I went down
Into the valley,
But I didn’t see you there.
I sailed on the ocean,
Hoping to catch
A glimpse of you at sunrise,
But I was disappointed.
I prayed to you
To appear to me,
And I looked at my reflection
In a pool of water.
It was then that I realized–
You were always with me,
For you are a part of me.
We can never be separated,
You and I.
We are One.
In the Presence of Everything
Are you the hand
That I shake in the pew,
Or on my way out the door,
To the parking lot?
…
Are you the presence,
In the plate and cup,
Upon the altar,
That is given for me to consume?
…
Are you the dirty, scarred face,
Of an abused, homeless woman,
Begging on the street,
Around the corner from the grocery store?
…
Are you the gentle face and eager voice
Of the elderly man
Who comes to my front door,
Struggling to use an iPad to show a video?
…
Are you the pastor at the soup kitchen,
Who tells me the administrative position
I’m interviewing for requires someone
Who can shmooze with the volunteers?
…
Are you the book with all the stories
Spoken a long, long time ago,
Written a long time ago,
For people who lived a long time ago?
…
If so, I’m wondering:
What is your name? Who am I
In relation to you?
Why do you appear differently to all?
…
I’d like to pin you down,
Put your number and your address
In my contact list.
I’d like to feel you.
…
I know that’s not how you operate,
If you did, you wouldn’t be God,
Or would you?
Sometimes I wonder.
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.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 