Unsatisfied

“They delight to draw near to God, but they serve their own
interests when they worship, while others suffer.”
(adapted from Isaiah 58:2-3)

Did you think you could rest?
Did you believe that now
now
you could lay it down
pause in peace
celebrate
finish
before life itself
is finished, or that
you could be done
before
I
am done?
Come now.
Come now.
I am not done.
Do not sit down
there on the grass
beside the road
in delusions of
heaven’s final chorus
heralding your efforts
while
I myself
have not completed
the song I am orchestrating
here
and
now
for all creation
and all people
to sing in harmony.
Do not rest in the grass.
Neither should you
fall down
discouraged
in the dust
exhausted
and weary of hoping.
I
am
not
done.
Repeat it again
and make this your praise:
I
am
not
done.
Stand up,
find your feet again.

Healing Service

Smear across me
Blur my features
Under holy oil
So that I shine
With healing
Saturated with
Grace upon grace
Make me lustrous
Even though I ache
Make me shine
Until I laugh
In the mess
That is clean
And truly blessed
Spilling, sliding down
Tears and olive’s oil
Mixed with mascara
As you touch
What you have
Broken apart
So completely
That the fault lines
Are still crumbling
Revealing themselves
Unexpectedly
Soothe over
The injury
Your injury
Let the oil
Trace a path
Where flesh & soul
Will find their way
To meet in healing
Once again.

Nine Five Seven B

O that today you would listen
listen
listen
for the Voice that is
quiet enough
to be heard in a storm
and still enough
to be recognized amidst your hustle.

O that today you would listen
listen
listen
for the Heartbeat that is
steady enough
to sustain you through the cacophony
and alive enough
to provoke you to courageous living.

O that today you would listen
listen
listen
for the Tide that is
strong enough
to smooth the rough road
and vast enough
to drown out your ego’s noisy fears. 

Whiny Brats (or Psalm 24:1)

It well may be that
GOD
is a
whiny
brat,
running around like
a 4-year-old
announcing “Mine! Mine!”
definitely OLD ENOUGH to know better
but still
YOUNG ENOUGH
to try to get away with it.
Which God can,
because
hello?
God is GOD.
Most challenging:
4-year-old God
seems to think that it is fun
to be in a room
with other
4-year-olds
(me and you)
who also
run around ridiculously
whining “MINE! MINE!”
and although a caring preschool teacher might say,
“No, it belongs to all of us so we need to share,”
we are bratty kids who know better:
the toys & the crayons
belong to the preschool
just like the world & all that is in it
belong to
GOD
which is probably why
we spend so much time
out-shouting God
“Mine!
Mine!”
because when we shout over God
then it’s easier to overlook
the part about being
wrong
and we can still
pretend to believe
that everything belongs
to the kid
who gets things
FIRST.

P.S. I totally love kids. And I don’t believe that 4-year-olds are inherently bratty, but sometimes I suspect that adults are. 

Rush Hour

A hermit thrush flits outside my office window
seeking a perch or a morsel from the concrete.
If I could open the window, I would offer her
space to cool her wings and quiet her panic,
sharing the same gift that the barista gives me
each morning when he kindly ignores that I am
obviously bleary-eyed and brightly-makeuped;
he takes his time steaming and frothing as if
he knows that I need the extra thirty seconds
to convince myself that peace is as necessary
as this cup of coffee to get through rush hour.