30,000 Feet (Lent 31)

From 30,000 feet in the air, you do not look like an image of God. You barely look like the landscape, and the landscape is just a background to the video game of drone warfare. 

From 30,000 feet in the air, your tears are only a poster image to convict my prayers. Tomorrow it will be another’s suffering that reminds me to ask God what can be done before I spend the day doing nothing.

From 30,000 feet in the air, your laughter cannot teach me God’s joy and your hands cannot reach out to me with God’s peace. I have stained glass rituals, long walks in the park, and book groups for that.

From 30,000 feet in the air, your song cannot be heard for its praise or its protest. I can only interpret a war cry across the distortions of power and bias and segregated experience, but I don’t have time to invest in my own translation.

From 30,000 feet in the air, you do not look like an image of God, and my faith is self-righteously safe from the questions you might ask of it.

on Matthew 17:12

Advent: Goodbye

Still I wait.
Still I listen.
Still there is only
disappointment.
We have waited.
We have hoped.
Perhaps now
at long last
God will answer
the generations
who have cried.
Perhaps.
But here —
here is a
shoulder
for comfort
until God
comes. Unless
God doesn’t come.
Unless the desert
never blooms.
Unless the streams
never bubble in song.
What if…?
What if never?
Cry, creation, cry
and say farewell.
Salvation isn’t
coming for you.

on Isaiah 35:1-7

Advent: Estranged

Not too long since last we spoke
Not too long since last we sat together
And still I feel a chasm between us as though
Our spirits never connected, as though
A word never passed between us
As though we are estranged.
How long, O God,
Until our repartee
Is not so scant and shallow
Until our time together finds roots
And satisfies my soul even when apart?
Rebuild this bridge, O God, or teach me
So that I might no longer lose my way
To your presence or fail to linger
in contentment with You.

on Romans 15:5