Never Sleeps

While a pastor on the Fort Berthold Reservation I was honored with the Indian name, "NeverSleeps". It was primarily because I was often responding to particular needs in the middle of the night.

Even more relevant, the Lord Himself, Maker of all, "Never Sleeps".

Surely you know.
Surely you have heard.
The Lord is the God who lives forever,
who created all the world.
He does not become tired or need to rest.
No one can understand how great his wisdom is.

Isaiah 40:28

Welcome to every reader. I am a simple follower of Jesus. He is perfect, I often fall short.

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

The Idol

The Idol

(“You are not to craft for yourselves an idol or anything resembling what is in the skies above, or on earth beneath, or in the water sources under the earth.” Exodus 20:4)

His voice was crackling like firewood,
his face hotter than an embarrassed teen,
his gait the sideways hustle of a man convinced he
is sent from God. His words full of lies and deception,
His proclamations completely committed to retribution.
And all the believers, the jesus type of people who drew
iron circles around the mountains of faith, they all called him
the messiah sent from god.
And yet not one could see, even if they had wanted to,
that the man was a fraud, a Nero-type psychotic,
speaking like a despotic king taking charge of everything.
And worship leaders hawked their words for millions and
power. They bundled real estate like late night shots of tequila
to take back the land for god.
Like Delilah they tied him to a chair and did unspeakable things there.
He was their prince, he was their paramour, he was the answer to
cultural morose battles.

But still there were a few who, lacking portents of anger,
gave water to the thirsty, walked to the courthouse with immigrants,
carried signs asking for sanity, and sang the songs of peace and
unity.

We were not the silent ones, not after an insurrection with a gallows
lifted for the head of the second in charge. We knew, against all odds,
the time was over for indistinct words of spirit that very few understood.
Instead we wrote our names on the sidewalks of every town,
guiding them to hot meals, warm beds, and rural hospitals
still standing, for the time being. We did dance. But only because
we have met the Lord of Love and know, without a blink,
that he has nothing to do with the hot-faced wannabe king who
is trying to take over everything.
God will have his day. The tear gas will clear. The horizon
will be decorated with double rainbows by day and
the aurora borealis by night. We cannot capture either,
cannot bring it up for a vote. But we will stand without moving
as we see the face of Christ connecting everything through love.
As we see the cloud of the Spirit cooling every angry word.
As we see the love of the Father, undoing our idols, tearing them down,
and leaving them post-revolution, broken on the ground.

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