Rain Coming

The scent of the deluge is in the air and the leaves are even turned inside out.
Charged particles caress my skin as chill breezes slip through the night air.
Blending my senses into the scenery surrounding me and all those within.
Partaking in nature solitude permeating the breathing air.

Photos in a Suitcase

Your feet are drenched, smelling of the ocean water.
You carried what you could as you ran for your life.
But the smell of sulphur clings to your lips and nose
as you fled the missiles and soldiers seeking after you
selling everything, sometimes even yourself,
just to get away from it all.

The photos are wrinkled and terribly fragile.
Discolored by age and wear and tear.
Over exposed to the elements of the age
we all find ourselves in.

But we hold them close to our chests
fractured though they are from the wars
within and without.

We hold them close to our chests
fractured though they are
from the wars within and without.

Seeking asylum from an insane asylum
only to be looked upon as an invader
scapegoated, segregated, isolated
barely tolerated, constantly berated.

I can feel my humanity slipping away
as layer and layer of who it is to be me is taken
away from me, or at least I think it's me
I'm talking about.

But at least I have photos in a suitcase.

I Hate What I Hate Because I Love What I Love

The Trayvon Martin case touches home for me. It's not because I'm black. I'm not. It's not because I'm a teenager. I'm no longer a teenager for many years now. It's not because of the clothes I wear. I don't own a hoodie. It's not for where I live. I live in a very liberal area right now.

But his story, a story I've seen all too often, is us. Because we're HUMAN. Trayvon Martin is us in the deepest sense of what it means to be human. But I KNOW that I will NEVER know what it means to be so different than me. I know I'll NEVER be pulled over for "driving while black" in the "wrong" neighborhood.

Privilege and power are UNSEEN and therefore unacknowledged. And as long as my white Anglo Saxon Protestant (WASP) friends refuse to "see" this reality of privilege, we'll continue to see this internal church blindness.

But we are ALL created in the image of God. We ALL possess the imago dei. Ephesians 2 and Revelation 5 both attest to the universal reality of Christ's work.

If I may, let me be a bit poetic:

When I look beyond my ken
I see a people not my kin
they seem different they do
sometimes seeing what is new
and when I see You becoming us
it only leads me to discuss
what it really means to be
you and me, we and us.

Enemies

I'm not your enemy I'm not your foe
you are, you are, please don't you know?
I'm not the one chasing you down the road
chasing me like an unclean toad.
We disagree, is that such a crime
it's not murder, just give me time.
I see the glint of the barrel in your eye
why must we judge before we even try?
Fire at will if it be thy will
but if it be thy will I will be still.

You're not my enemy you're not my foe
I am I am, please don't I know?
You're not the one being chased down the road
chasing you like an unclean toad.
We disagree, is that such a crime
it's not murder, just give me time.
You see the glint of the barrel in my eye
why must we judge before we even try?
Fire at will if it be thy will
but if it be thy will I will be still.

The hands of God

When the poorest of the poor
have called upon you,
have we been there?

They call upon your name
knowing you will deliver.
Do they know that you have called
us who are called by you
to deliver you
to them?

Wounds

How many wounds must
I inflict,
before You
afflict me
with Your wounds?
You sear me with
Your hands and feet.
Your brow bleeds
onto me.
As You look down
from above.
I hate You.
You are killing me.
I know You must.
I know why.
I also know
that You love me.
And You're bleeding
into me.
So that I might
bleed too.

Into others,
just like me.

Why is this Your way?
Why must You suffer?
Why must You die?
Why must I?

I know.
You've already told me.
And all those before
and after me.

It's who You are.
It's what You do.
Thank You.

HIDDEN IN YOUR WINGS AM I

The comfort you give is beyond what words can share.

My downcast mind is staid by your unfailing love.

I cannot comprehend the love you have for me.

My questions,

My doubts,

Are laid waste by your great love, poured out for me.

Hidden in you wings am I.

Resting finally from all my works.

Your solace calms my nerves by your hand,

Which restores my soul.

My legs, hands, feet, are weak,

Unable to do your work,

Which you have called me to,

But which you have done for me.

It doesn’t make sense that you should do what is required of me.

And yet you do.

You are my obedience.

You are my holiness.

You are my Adam, as I fall into you.

How can you be my all?

How can I stand in you?

And yet everything I am is because of you.

May I be hidden in you?

Will you hide me in you?

Who I am already is all because of you.

Because of you I am already hidden in you.

Hide me in your love.

Cadence and Rhythm

Times of testing,
given over to the gentiles
of my heart.
Shape my desires in such a way
that new reservoirs of hope
open up my eyes.
These are days of hope,
that spring from
depths of despair.
God has given me
all that I might need.
So that I might search for him
in all that I desire.
Search me out
and seek me now
so that I may be found
in you.
Cadence and rhythm
are only found
in you.