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.

Thursday, September 10, 2026

Expand the Joy


Expand the Joy

(“Such people are too stupid to know what they are doing. They close their eyes and their minds to the truth.” Isaiah 44:18)

Tell it to me truthfully; let your eyes tell the story
from end to end. Do not avert them, do not close them.
Keep them open so the light can fill you with truth. I
know you haven’t slept well in days. What is it that
keeps you up, that spins your mind so violently, that
makes slumber an impossible dream?

When did it start, this disassociation from the light?
How soon can you return, can you come back,
can you discern the poems written to bypass the
guards on duty in front of you brain?

You sectioned it all off like voting districts the
shape of dragons. The confusion threw you off your game.
When did you get the idea to fashion an idol out of
a narcissist that stole all the gold? How did it finally
happen, these new accolades you gave, this
brunt of the joke?

Long before when we knew our pathway so straight,
we could take in the full light of day and make a party
of it. But now the darkness has bought you for a song
and a dime and will not refund a millisecond this time.
Will you feed your idol with promised votes for every
scheme it deceives you with? Will you dip your toe in
the water on the shore that was created to wash your
eyes clean again? Your idol did not even conceive stars or
the planets and could not deliver the healing it promised.

Come where the sunshine bleaches the dark pattern baldness
that tied your worship up in with rubber-band hands.
Let the light burst your bubble, the echo chamber that
changed your faith into futility. Turn panoramic,
and get the bigger picture that idols can never fill.
It’s easy to wrap our worship around something that
hands out promises like Christmas candy. But look
in your hands. Are they sticky with sugar, or are they
calloused from trying to get back over the fence?

You’re welcome here, the invitation still stands.
We can walk the meadow in the sun and then
walk the urban sidewalk where the homeless
gather hoping for someone to see them, to see
them clearly, to sit with them nearly an hour.
That’s what changed my eyes, and that’s how
I expanded the joy I had sought so long.


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