Today is the Day to Trust, or to See it Come, for Them, But Most Probably For Me

The sun gently eases into the weary sleep and into the ears which may still be listening to dreams.
The sun is coming up outside your room, the glow is fading fast easing you into this day.
The moon and the stars lingered to say goodbye,but they had to hurry on at least for now.
The gentle breeze has words only it knows and reveals only to you.

Today may be very much the same, familiar may be its name.
Today may be novel, asking you to step out of the normal way things are done.
This day seems orchestrated by some that we've only come to know of late.
On this holy day, high and holy trust is felt, heard, seen, and suspected. Maybe touched.

Off as a group we go filled with wonder and delight, with anxiety and joy intertwined.
We enter the basilica with prayer and delight in the company of the Holy One of Israel, arms outstretched, a thorn-made crown caressing his head, and we come to a rare face to face with mystery.

The thorn-made crown is not my taste of wearing apparel. I wince in pain, so no cross I'll own. Too big for my mantel at home. Too showy of faith. Let's look for smaller, more subdued one, if you please. Maybe one made of trees when we live. I feel a little down about the crown, but I think I'll come back around to superficiality.

We saunter the streets make eye contact with all we meet.
Trying holy moments to create even after we just ate and hardly spake.
Space for superficial conversation pushes so as to replace the normal ruminations.
And more serious strains to meet as our paths criss-cross and we greet, and will it be sweet or intrusive.

We have things that do speak of generosity and caring, and we are curious.
Some saints and sinners when let through a front door or back door have little over which to pour, but
When they can sense the holy trust we carry in our back packs and in our hearts, and
With the Spirit of the Holy One we discern their battles, at least from the edges.

We create a holy space in which hearing is done, speaking is done, understanding and  understood are out on the tables of the cafe. Risk is rewarded. Fears are pushed away. We may even feel an extra ray of sunshine on his any otherwise chilly, windy day.

Each day is never the same and each encounter always different.
We are simply called upon to wonder about the wounds carried by the wounded seen or unseen.
For when we lean into doubt, respecting boundaries, and offering hope,

A new thing is born which slowly decodes mystery shared and trust develops and people talk about things that are real relevant life here and now and then even when the then crowded into the now.

When is a trip to the restaurant just that? When is a quick in and out of the grocery store just that? When is a trip to the small BBQ stand on the corner on a Thursday afternoon just that? When is wondering through the shops of all the sales of baby clothes at the going out of business  just that?

When is it more.

Our Relationship is at Risk

Dear God:  

Our relationship is at risk

If the truth is in what some preachers preach

That you chose the man in office

Is this just a bully pulpit reach?

Our relationship is at risk

If you chose such a flawed man

To lead this country down the road

Maybe even bring justice to the land.

Our relationship is at risk

If what they say amounts to much

Your hand reached down and touched him

And made us vote for him and such.

Our relationship is at risk

If I were to believe those folks on the right

All the things they say to excuse him

All come with your holy might.

Our relationship is at risk

If I thought you decided to choose

A man who mocks the poor and the needy

We all have a lot to lose.

Our relationship is at risk

If I have to buy into their theology

That you orchestrated this madness

That I think is just misguided mythology.

Our relationship is at risk

If I thought you cared more for the rich

And for the man who lies and taunts us

And that would be a heavenly glitch.

Our relationship is at risk

If you chose the man with the insult

For Haiti and Africa and their people

While his supports loudly exult.

Our relationship is at risk

If indeed I thought you chose

An adulterer, a liar, a racist

Who tweets insults under our nose.

Our relationship is at risk

If I believe the loud noise

From a man who lies and lies and lies

And we excuse his malicious ploys.

Our relationship is at risk

If the one they say you’ve anointed

Constantly hollers at us

“Fake news” and other words more pointed.

But

Our relationship is not at risk

No, I know you love your people

You would not impose upon us

A human being so despicable.

No, our relationship is not at risk

You did not hold our hands at the box

We across this land voted our conscience

Though it came out pretty unorthodox.

No, our relationship is not at risk

Because I trust you above all others

You do not punish the innocent

Or destroy a sister or her brothers.

No, our relationship is not at risk.

We have a lot of things to learn

There are processes in place

That will protect us when we turn.

No, our relationship is not at risk

I lean on you most days

To help me keep my head about myself

Above the burning haze.

Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus

Are There Tears in Heaven: Meditations of January 11, 2018

Were there tears that day

When Jesus said goodbye

To his faithful disciples

Did you see those grown folks cry?

They’d been together

For a few short years

When He wrapped it all up

Did they do so with human tears?

In some of His very last words

He prayed for Himself and the disciples

He prayed for all believers, too

Me and you, or so I read there in my Bible.

One line really catches me

As things sometimes do

He prayed for complete unity

To let the Father’s love shine through.

That was a long time ago

And today is still today

That prayer is still not answered

And I wonder, what do you say?

The Right has seized the story

At least that seems to be true

The only ones who are true believers

Where does that leave me and you?

Does the Right own the story

Or is it religion that they claim

Whatever you want to call

It causes a lot of pain.

Are there tears in heaven

I this morning do wonder

We have messed up the message

Just one blunder after blunder.

What He prayed for seems like fiction

If the conversations that I hear

We’re no less one in unity

Is what I’ve come to fear.

So, are there tears in Heaven

Does Jesus look on us and weep

Upon this mess we created

We despise His other sheep.

We have our left and our right

Everyone assigned a place

That sure seems misguided to me

Just looking for some sacred space.

Surely Jesus weeps

When political speak

We all do seek

Our own inside ideology we keep.

Does Jesus weep

When we speak our very own labels

We spew them left and right

Right there at our church’s tables.

Are there tears in heaven

When our rhetoric is so loud

If He really sheds a tear

Could we really stand that proud?

Are there tears in Heaven

To me it’s an important question

How we violate that prayer

Today is my one obsession.

Are there tears in heaven

Am I the one to cause

If so, I’ll think it over

With that question will come a long pause. 

Amen. God Waits for Our Reply

Dear Lord:

What brings me joy

The phrase pops in my head

Images flow to and fro

They remove my weariness and dread.

Those older boys

They range from here to there

They are so much bigger

And the similarities we share.

Those little ones

So young and filled with play

My heart leaps when I see them

They brighten up my day.

My wife so thoughtful

So loving and so kind

How did we ever hook up

My words she makes to rhyme.

Conversations here and there

About things that ultimately matter

Amidst the dross and fog

They cut through the noisy chatter.

A good cup of coffee

To start each and every day

Brewed already when I arise

Come world what may.

The Book someones wrote

Its origins from above

It tells the endless story

Of God’s relentless love.

This season of the year

It comes every time

This one somehow seems different

The meaning is somehow sublime.

That new kid in town

One of my favorite songs

How will He change the world

Into something for which we long.

Justice when we see it

Fairness and equity is the story

The Christ child will prompt it all

That is part of His glory.

The prophets told about Him

The stories to us are told

Not just any child He is

He is one we hear foretold.

When noise comes from DC

The hatred and all its noise

We know politics is the author

The evil one prompts too many ploys.

Where for hope do we go

Or are we left alone

Across this space and place

With anxiety must we roam.

Level out the paths

Remove injustice from the world

Base all upon character

When noise about us swirls.

Yes, some things make my heart sing

My pulse picks up its beat

When good is seen around us

And wickedness sounds its retreat.

Things that bring me joy

My friends and my kin

The baby born in that stable

Will heal my soul within.

Amen. Simplicity in all its glory.

Amen. Sing those songs from on high

Amen. Worship that new born child.

Amen. God waits for our reply. 

The Truth Will Set Us Free If We Let It

Truth is truth

No matter how we spin

The lies and the deceit

Do not always win.

Character prevails

Let’s see it more and more

I hope we find more of it

That’s what most of us implore.

Women tell the truth

They live within their skin

To doubt their stories

Is too deep a sin.

People in power

White men in the crowd

No longer get by with crimes

And that makes me proud.

Character matters

Though some would disagree

Those who put politics above it

Will surely come to see.

Shall we continue the journey

And move toward things that matter

Before we totally ruin ourselves

Lest more lives we would shatter.

There is hope in the land

I feel it in my soul

Maybe we’ve turned the corner

The truth must somehow be told. 

Dear God, Hear My Prayer

Dr. James Melvin Washington’s book, Conversations with God: Two Centuries of Prayers by African Americans, published in 1994, has been a steady read for me during our days of living in Abilene, Ada, and now Denison. You may ask why a white man reads a book of prayers by people of color. There are perhaps many, but amongst others, they keep me reminded of things that are true.

In the early morning hours this morning, I read two prayers, one by Matthew L.Watley, then a student at Howard University, and now a leader of people and recognized as such, and another by his father, William Donnel Watley, then a pastor for an AME church in New Jersey, and now a senior pastor for an AME church in Atlanta.

Young Watley prays the following:

“Dear God, if you please, let me be paranoid.

I know this sounds like the strangest request.

But it’s the only thing can fill this void.

And until it is fulfilled, I’ll find no rest.”

He goes on to write about judgments made against him because of his skin color and other things such as “poor education and unequal chances” and all manner of mistreatment, but that he is told that these things do not exist.

So, he writes:

“So God, you must see the need for me to be paranoid,

Then this world really wouldn’t be so bad.

Then all that I would see is not a true picture.

Lord, let me be paranoid so I know that I’m not mad.”

Then his father, the elder Watley, acknowledges to God his son’s prayers and then makes his own request, “I pray for holy restlessness and sensitivity to the racism that still affects the lives and impacts the aspirations of your children of the African sun.” Later in his prayer, he also beseeches God with, “God, grant us sensitivity without cynicism, righteous indignation devoid of bitterness, the wisdom of the serpent without its craftiness the gentleness of the dove without its naivete. Then, Lord, help us to direct all of this passion that we feel into meaningful action, we pray.”

For those of us who are watching, there is injustice and insanity in the world.  Based on one’s skin color or one’s name, the opportunities are different. There are better jobs, opportunities, higher placement in a wide range of settings if you have a “white” name and if your skin color is “white.” There are distinctions made by police around people of color versus those of us who are white. Then, the politics of the day can be maddening and we can go mad ourselves when we see the leader of our land engage in activities that demean people of color, women, the disabled, and children, amongst all manner of others. We see the undoing of things that we hold dear such as our indigenous people’s sacred land, to mention just one.  We see the “leader of the free world” endorsing for congress one who has multiple allegations of sexual misconduct because a “liberal” would mess with the vote. It appears that guns are more important than people. 

These things are seen by some and not by others. They are dismissed by some as irrelevant to the day and as important to others. 

I’d like to see things as they are, not how I am told to see them. I want to see the truth of injustices done and to do something about them rather than being sold a spin or a justification for them. 

So, today, like the younger Watley, I am asking for paranoia so as to know that I am not mad. I am also praying like the elder Watley for a holy restlessness and sensitivity to all manner of injustices in the world. And I vow to make a difference in my small corner of the world. 

I Hear He is Coming

I hear He is coming

The preacher told us so

He read from a big book

That was written long ago.

There was a prophet

A man who listened closely to God

He spoke to the rich and the poor

He cared a lot about those downtrod.

There was hopeless in the land

They had all lost their way

They were looking left and right

Trying to see a better day.

The prophet said he is coming

I just won’t tell you when

You better get prepared

You’ll face all of your sins.

The world we live sounds familiar

We stink up this big old joint

We have all chosen our paths

And toward hell much of us do point.

This world like that one

Bad stuff and other’s pain was craving

If it doesn’t come soon

I don’t know if it’ll be worth saving.

He’ll be born of a virgin

Something no one has done

He’ll bring us back to glory

He’ll be God’s only Son.

He’ll bring us to our knees

And we’ll worship at the throne

He’ll have a heart of justice

For those left undone.

Today is sit and I ponder

I’d like for him to come

And reign amongst my people

And to fix the world undone.

This thing is what we called it

Advent is a descriptive term

Jesus is coming as a baby

We have so very much to learn.

Mary and Joseph his parents

The donkey their traveling mode

He walked and carried them along

Not knowing of his precious load.

That sweet sweet day He was born

The world never to be the same

We all bow down to the Christ child

We worship His holy name.

The prophet was named Isaiah

The truth he told quite clear

The child’s name was to be Immanuel

His birth is drawing near.