To Shape the World

 To Shape the World

(“Look! The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:19b)

How could we miss it,
the way you displayed our violence
when you never said a mumbling word?
Why do we dream of armies,
why do we fight hand to hand,
face to face,
race to race,
grabbing land and
staking our claims?

My walls, my acreage,
my car, my failing courage,
the broken bridges are my solitary
confinement. My isolation has gone
on far too long.

Why a lamb? Oh, little one, so very young;
why a lamb?
Shepherd us again, gather us, all of us,
into the fold again.

I had dinner with some of your own a few
weeks ago. We were a jolly boy, a mother of
still waters running, an elder left on his own,
a daughter in love with the world, her husband
in love too, a wife who wishes we would celebrate
more often. And one who, I daresay, is among the
beloved.

Though we made no mention of it as we drank
and laughed and nearly emptied the place,
I suspect the lamb was present too. And, I daresay,
called us all beloved and sent us, full and joy

To shape the world in the image of lamb-like resistance,
defenseless reformation, campfire pentecost, shalom and
shabbat; to

Meet the next member of the flock with
wildflowers that take away the
sins of the world.

Something in the Air Flashing

 

Something in the Air Flashing

(“Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:29b)

There is something in the air flashing,
something in the air refracting the
light into a million diamonds dancing on the
unfastened sky.

The River Jordan is muddy and cold,
but the air above it is warm and clear.
The scheduled stoning on the outskirts of town
has been officially cancelled. And so have the barbed
hooks
thrown down from superior summits
to teach upriver swimmers a thing or two.
Shaded in black and white, every hue became
white and red like wine in a prism’s beam.

But there is limitless space where the river
meets the air,
bodies bursting forth, eyes sparkling,
toes still clenched to the silt underwater.
The greens are an artist’s dream where
color occupies every atom: trout, cedar,
ranch fence, cherry, olive, earthworm and
diamond ring.
The atmosphere swells, an overture of
songbirds and saturn’s orbit around the sun.

Some hear it and lay down every sharpened word
used
to slay the enemy before the enemy knew
their own past was darker and vacant. Some refuse, tuned
only to martial percussion. They will not lay
their weapons down.

But the river still runs deep,
the air still dries every drop,
the Lamb still waits quietly, taking up the rear,
following to catch the few who straggle
behind. The Lamb repeats
the heaven song and removes every
wound and blade. The Lamb whispers us toward
the river
and waits for us to hear.

On the Edges

On the Edges

(“The Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those who are with Him are the called and chosen and faithful.” Revelation 17:14)

You gave me a headache choosing things out of turn,
you made me mistake to miniscule for the might,
and I turned on the edges of my anxiety for half a day
and another day more
over the uncooperative world which never calls for
my opinion
before leaving questions in my path that no one
can answer.

They leave partial interpretations between dead-certain
pages
of books whipped together without a clue about
heaven’s final intentions. They set my teeth on edge
the way their riches pile up and their fictional believers
take aim with military weapons to satisfy their yearning
for a world without opposition. My bones ache
at their fakery.

But He, the Mighty Gentle One, is and has,
will and still overcomes the notions we spew
about Him. The Lamb is a warrior only when
warriors overcome hatred, war and deception.

Let the earth-formed by Him speak beneath your feet,
Let the sky-framed like Him whisper odium’s defeat,
Let the moon echo earth’s cry, the stars spin in the polished sky,
and may the meek, the speakers of Love’s constant theme,
never fail the message of mercy, the song of the redeemed.