A Cantata of Peace

A Cantata of Peace

(“A child will be born for us. A son will be given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. He will be named: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6)

After further review and looking everywhere,
high and low,
center and none,
in ballads and marches,
in wooden crosses and iron wills,
I honestly
find more question marks than before.

Today I sat without wind or dizzying propositions,
definitions of cause and effect,
and hoped (an explosive hope)
for better ears. A friend hides underground
while missiles whistle overhead.

And what is this song that moves the ground beneath our feet,
that pierces the stars until angels cannot restrain the chorale
that wraps the waiting world
face-to-face,
with an overture too resplendent to miss?

But we do miss it. We do continue staking our claim.
We do see the fault lines drawn between this
and
that,
and are blind where that and this
contain the first atoms of breath, contain the
alpha and omega. We do miss the
restoration of things.

With a mighty hand extended through
infant arms,
I cannot ignore the cantata of peace.

We Lay Down Our Arms

 

We Lay Down Our Arms

(“And a voice spoke out of the cloud, ‘This is my dearly-loved Son. Listen to him!’” Mark 9:7 [J.B. Phillips])

And the time came when they listened to mobs who
carried AK7s and confederate flags.
The time came when they poisoned others with their breath
and called it love. There came a time when they
made guns out of crosses
and went to war in the name of the lord.

Power was stored in the transformers that ran
a dozen outlets who spoke like puppets,
who convinced the listeners (if this was possible)
that the gospel should be shouted in angry tones
that drown the words of the master.

And above the noise and behind the walls
the Father still begs us all to listen and
stop our campfire stories that are more fable than
kingdom. We listen to the echoes of our
favorite attack dogs. We tune in to serrated theories
meant to take down the best of men.

And even worse, some among us say that
blacks are shot more often because they commit more crime.
Spouting spittle like they know the times. Read, sister, read.
And slowly awaken.

So Jesus still speaks, and has spoken. Jesus bids peace
to all who, forsaken or leaving the forests without trees,
give in to the whisper placed in their hearts from the breath
of life, the Spirit who spills love indiscriminately. My
neighbor also waits
for me to listen clearly
and shed the dragon skin that wanted autonomy,
wanted to throw stones until Jesus asked, “Who first?”

If I stand alone, may it be for the sake of my neighbor
who needs a river of kindness to drown out the righteous
rants of the unhelpful.

We lay down our arms before you. We disable our missiles.
We resist the fear of dying, for you have led the way.
And we, in stillness hear the child-like narrative again,
the lamb, the lamb, the lamb,
worthy is the lamb,
the lover of humanity.

Grace Extended

Grace Extended

“For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.” 2 Corinthians 4:15

It was the scariest day of the first twelve years on the planet. Greg, one of the three meanest playground bullies had “called me out” to fight after school. Barely 110 pounds, my slight frame rarely stayed upright in the face of the few fisticuffs I encountered in school. But, whether out of a momentary bravissimo or stupidity, I agreed to meet him.

Most times when I felt threatened I would recruit Don Irwin to walk home with me. Held back a year, Don was bigger and stronger than everyone in our class. Though he never actually fought anyone, we all knew the outcome of any attempted brawl with Don. But, for some reason, Don was unavailable on the day Greg insisted we meet around the block after school.

I bravely faced off across from him, hands somewhere hanging on the ends of my arms. Within the time it takes for a hummingbird to flap its wings twice a fist crashed into my left eye and across my nose. Immediately I started to cry. It was involuntary, but they were tears, nonetheless. (Do not try this at home, but a blow to your eye will bring the inevitable tears.) I couldn’t see, I was embarrassed and petrified. Not only had he caught me full force, I was blubbering in front of the school bully; a far worse shame than losing a fight.

Greg took a step back while my mind reeled. I wondered if I should take a wild swing while he watched me grimace. The he said, “Have you had enough?” I knew to say “Yes” meant to admit defeat. But, not wanting to lose two eyes, I said, “I guess.”

“Ok,” he responded, “It takes a big guy to admit he’s lost.” Then we had a couple of other words together, he walked off, I limped home, and we never fought again.

Grace, right? I was grateful for Greg’s grace. No! A thousand times “No!”

But I have met many Christians who see God’s grace much the same way. We do not go so far as to say God is a bully. But we do say things like “I deserve the punishment”. Or, even when things aren’t going quite right, “I must have messed up pretty bad for these things to be happening.” And so, we see God’s “grace” in terms of a God who occasionally lets us walk away from a black eye that He has inflicted.

The danger of this idea comes out in how we treat others. There seem to be two streams of “Christianity” in America: one which loves seeing God’s grace given to more and more people; and another which uses the word “grace” but seems to be slow in giving it. So, if we feel God was righteous to rough us up before he gave us grace, we also feel justified to speak and act in ways that are not fully grace-full.

You’ve seen it, I know you have. Christians who share ugly reports about politicians they disagree with; or who will not listen to the stories of those in untenable situations. Sometimes we make assumptions about the poor or the disadvantaged. We want to control what people do with their food stamps or disability.

But, here is what God did. Let’s suppose we actually deserved a black eye. The Greatest News of All is that Glen is not God. Glen would have given us our black eye, then backed off saying, “you learned your lesson.”

But Christ, in His Mighty Grace, suffered for us on the cruelty of the cross! He triumphed over the violence and the darkness of this world, not by fighting back, but by dying. He triumphed over the ungodly union of politics and religion in His own time by showing that God’s Kingdom is one of love and servitude.

Dear ones, perhaps you have never fully understood the great galaxy of God’s grace offered to you. Perhaps you feel you have deserved the hardships, and that, once you have suffered enough, God will be nice to you. In Christ, God is here now. He is the One who has spread the mercy and grace of God across the universe like a perfume that anoints our every sense.

Once you realize how great His grace truly is, you will never again speak harshly against the poor or spread falsehoods about opponents. Jesus, in His grace, offered His very life so that, according to this verse, “as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.”

Experience His grace today. And, experiencing it, let it extend from you to more and more people!