Saturday, December 9, 2017

the bathroom window

it was musty—
mold grew in the basement—
the walls needed ventilation—
closed doors seemed too invasive—
but he knew she had ulterior motives—
it was an old apartment—
he gave her that—
but it was only their first—
not their last—
and he didn’t like being cold at breakfast—
why did she take the latch—
after he was fast asleep—
and slide open the hatch in the bathroom—
she let the moonshine bathe her—
as she stood in the tub—
until her feet grew weary and the snow
melted upon her tongue—
why did she leave it open—
was the eggs on toast question—
she never told him—
she liked to hear the train pass—
as she lay awake thinking.


RL

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Stations of the Cross

Following Jesus is supposed to look like freedom. It often does not. We are bound by religious strictures, ordinances, laws, the expected judgement from our backup clique of like-minded thinkers who applaud when we do something their Jesus would do, but throw us into the dirt when we do something Jesus would actually do.
            Over time, we have become mirror images to the Pharisees—the very people Jesus called out and yelled at. We laugh and make jokes about being a Pharisee without recognizing the depth of who we ourselves have become—Pharisees.

Come Soon, Lord

Come rescue our weary souls
From the pits of despair and distress
Come soon, Lord Jesus, Come soon
We wait for you
Come triumph over the wickedness
So prevalent in our worlds
We grow restless with each day that passes
Come soon, Lord Jesus, Come soon
We wait for you to come back to us
Come soon, Lord Jesus, Come soon, O God
We wait for you to bring us back home

There is pain and there is toil
Injustice strikes into the soil
We feel helpless to be a voice
For those in dark chains

Come soon, Lord Jesus, Come soon, Lord
We wait for you to redeem this world
Come soon, Lord Jesus, Come soon, O God
We wait in expectation for you

Come soon, Lord
Come soon, Lord
This ground cries out in desperation

Come soon, Lord
Come Soon, Lord
Our body and hearts lie broken

Thoughts on Church Membership

A few weeks ago I sat down with a friend and we discussed the idea of church membership. I, being a military brat who has never stayed in one church for more than two years, previously has no understanding of why church membership was a valuable component of the Christian life. I thought: why can’t I be a member of the church by merely getting involved in serving and partaking in the community? Isn’t this essentially the same? I’ll probably just be leaving within six months to a year anyway. I won’t be here long enough to become a “member”. My friend, however, strongly believes becoming an official member of the local church you attend is not only biblical but often necessary, and, the next step in the individual-church relationship (hence the DTR metaphor). I peppered my friend with question after question, he pondered, he searched Scripture, and he answered with wisdom and honesty. There are still things I am unsure about, but I did come away with a much better understanding of Why Church Membership?

Wonder

I have a friend. She has embraced the embodiment of wonder as an attribute. She has retained her ability to cry over pain and enter into empathy. She has her cares but she is careless. She knows the world, but she maintains bliss.

I live in a world where wonder is rare and is considered ignorant, naïve, and unrealistic. I live in a world where wonder is frowned upon, looked down upon, and thrown out to the corner to shiver through the night. I live in a world where wonder is so long forgotten, when we encounter wonder once again, we shrivel back in disgust, misunderstanding, and judgment.

I live in a world that tells me and my friend we are too sensitive. I live in a world that mocks us when we break into tears over something that seems frivolous or mundane. I live in a world that has hardened me but seems to have untouched my growing-ever-softer sister.

I used to cry over heartbreak not my own. I used to find delight in the little things. I used to express my emotions externally better than I do now.

My friend has somehow kept delicacy and gentleness and softness about her—this is what I long for. She sees the world through a grown-up child’s eyes. She is not blind to reality or hardship, but she holds an enduring hope for better things ahead and isn’t afraid to seek possibility and opportunity.

When we, the hardened members of this green and blue community, come across something so blissfully sweet, we often respond with hate. We respond to undying love and grace with hate and I don’t understand.