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.

Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts

Thursday, November 9, 2023

Sitting Among the Stacks

Sitting Among the Stacks

(“Give advice to a wise person, and he will become even wiser. Teach a righteous person, and he will add to his learning.” Proverbs 9:9)

Do you have me where you want me?
Have I passed the inquisition?
Do my answers meet with your expectations?
Do I fit within the confines you’ve built for
membership in your organization?

Can I hedge my answers enough
to hide all the stuff you would suck out of
me
if you knew?
One day I’ll ask you the questions. One day
I’ll be bold enough to say
your black and white is dangerous
to me.
Your sentences are stunted; your growth is thwarted
by
minds made up a thousand years ago.

I remember so many hollow memories.
Did you put them there?

I swear you would never have approved me
lingering days at a time
between the booths and shelves that bound the
pages
of knowledge you never read for yourself.

I was once a baby and ate the pablum of the
generation before me.
I sucked at the teat. But the mother was a
monster, overgrown like the crossed-out answers
on a multiple-choice examination.

There is more in a single blade of grass than I
learned
in a lifetime of your doctrines, covenants,
catechisms, and fundamental truths.

It was not your fault. You did not know.
They hid the libraires far outside your view.
And, if serendipity dropped a new discovery in
your lap,
you were more afraid than I. You had so
much more to lose.

I was a square-headed cynic for a while,
a fuming boil of teakettle anger. That danger
is gone now.
Some plowed my back with iron teeth,
I plowed my own grieving desires.

But now, though my circle is smaller than a dime,
it gives me more room to peruse more rows of
slow inquiry. I will sit among the stacks and
take my time, the time that has been gifted to me.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Help Me Learn Your Ways

Help Me Learn Your Ways

“No wisdom, understanding, or advice can stand up against the Lord.” Proverbs 21:30

I suppose it goes without saying, but there is not one of us that wants to lose. We do not attend our children’s tee-ball games and hope they are trounced by the opposite team. Cheerleaders don’t spell out the opposing team’s name at the Homecoming Game. No one watches the Super Bowl hoping their beloved Seahawks go down in defeat. (Having lived in the Northwest for eight and a half years now, I am, by law, required to root for Seattle.)

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Hug Like CornBread


Hugs Like CornBread

Waiting before the coffee spits on,
lying on the blue with the pillow tucked in,
holding to some hope of enjoying the dawn,
inching up from fluttered sleep, barely happy,
halfway living.

I will wait, I will still, for the strength to gain the days
I’ve missed locked inside the pain. I’m a limper, squinter,
with capacity depleted,
common joy deleted.

I’m offered one remedy after the next,
friendly gestures, but wheelbarrow loads of mortar
sealing my smile shut (I must stay silent the next
prescription given by well-meaning non-physicians).

“Why aren’t our prayers answered”, other good-hearts ask me,
(at least these aren’t the ones more concerned about their
spiritual batting average than the object of their petition)
Don’t fix me: you can’t. Just love me: hug the moment
and my pain, learn the holy, the adult refrain that
lets the thoughts of the lonely walk away whistling
for another half day.

Leave me feeling like cornbread and honey,
don’t advise me or give or give me your physician’s name;
Pray me like caramel sweet,
lift my pain-weighted body of its feet for a hour,
take me away to the beach and say we’ll stay only a second
or the rest of the day. Ask me, give me, offer me,
you with suggestions or recommendations.

When your days of pain come round like
hot tar and smothered gasping, I promise to
be the first to bring your favorite dessert
and leave it on your doorstep
or
stay all afternoon.

And if you look on your doorknob, there will not be the latest
article clipped from my search of

Your disease.