A New Place to Listen

A New Place to Listen

(“Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you by prophecy when the elders laid their hands on you.” 1 Timothy 4:14)

I heard you crying like a child who cannot wake up.
We cradle them until the brightness returns.
We wait for the sun and forget the rain,
we talk until 2 in the morning, we drink coffee
until the same.

Our tears were distilled and run through the mill.
Our weariness overtook every plan we had made.
Could I tell you one more time how it means so
much to me
to have you fan into flame what sometimes disappears
beyond my fenced imagination? I fear sometimes
that insulation has hindered my brain and I’ve forgotten
the exact, the point, the meaning of it all. I want to give
it all away
again.

When we reach so distantly, insisting there must be
a way to discover something new, we play some jazz
and memorize the patterns that improvised over our heads.

I took a bottle of wine to my friend who had cried
for days. He could not put his finger on it, and I knew
less than he,
so we poured our glasses and reminisced on better times.
We recognized in each other’s eyes the questions that had
hemmed us in like concrete. He told me he never imagined
he would turn solo after so long. I was silent, I knew what
he meant.

We once understood the steps in the dance that brought
the delight of heavenly joy. We were players, we were
instrumentalists, we were singers some of the time.
But now we couldn’t find a venue to play. We hummed
a few tunes while we finished our wine and decided to find
a new place to listen to the music we missed and find
one or two who would learn them through like children.
We were ready to be useful again.

A New Version

A New Version

(“These words I have spoken to you so that in me you may have peace. For in the world you will have tribulation. But be of good cheer: I have overcome the world.” John 16:33)

I have drafted a new version of our agreement and
may send it over to have you read it through. It is dense,
and for that I apologize, but I needed for us both to
banish doubts about simply following the day from the night. Emerging
from my thoughts I reunite with the self I left behind,
worried it would wound me deeper than just keeping the rules.

That is why I am sending this short word and might bury it
in the back yard for fear someone will read and consider me mad,
think of me as too far gone. Reality is,
I am closer today than I have ever been.

Once upon a moment I could generate the laughter that would
ravel my day. I could smile at nothing and feel it warm me
inside out. But the years have been cruel, the years have been
wasted, the years pasted without relief. So, I steal another’s smile
and wonder how long it will take for that smile to fade.
Shine sometimes, and I’ll look around the corner to see
the shadows that testify I have made a difference on the
red siding on the barn.

And yet, in the middle of a brightening day I feel my
sadness heightened without reason. So, I’m writing this tome
and casting it to the wind. A world decorated with
seasons of joy, and fear, and sadness, and hubris
has left me wondering if the multiplied days really
matter at all. Put the pieces together, if you will,
and recite who I am to me
carefully.

It's Nothing New

It’s Nothing New

(“Know that the Lord is God—he made us; we belong to him. We are his people, the sheep of his own pasture.” Psalm 100:3)

And here I am, it’s nothing new, everything I’m writing to you.
I feel like a camel, not a sheep, hump ugly and dying to get out
of the heat.

I hear too much about kings and cravings
out here in the backlands. The coast use to be clear,
but now the continent hides the waves where my feet
cooled, where my soul grew like a hot air balloon.

I’m writing to you who
leave the 99 others as soon as the 1
has wandered like a feral cat. I am not feral;
in fact
I’m far too domesticated for my own good.

So bring me back to pastures, I only ask
you give me green and mud,
delicious skies and oceans,
elderly trees and apples barely hanging
like Christmas bulbs late January.

Here I am, it is still nothing new, everything I feel is due to
your absence, or a brain that cannot connect with the arms you offer.
Everything I feel is due to my absence, my soul in limbo,
my worship of pat answers dead on the floor,
my travel stymied by dust and pain;

Otherwise I would stand on the porch of my friend
and knock and enter before he invited me in. But old
friends
(who I still love as deep as adolescence)
are as far from me
as I am from them. This damned vast country

Will not give up its treasures I’ve scattered.

Here I am, still saying nothing that’s new, but you can read it to review
my complaint; and I’m sorry to complain. But I’m just another one of a
hundred
who needs the frolic of the flock, and for a line that stretches
before and during, after and soon, empty and captive, embraced and strewn
across the dimensions and lassoing the clouds.

Am I allowed this miserable silence, these noisy doubts,
and will you take my solitary tears before they run out?

New Life, New Eyes

Jesus replied to him, “Truly, I tell you emphatically, unless a person is born from above he cannot see the kingdom of God.” John 3:3

Nicodemus was a Pharisee. If you are acquainted with Christianity or the New Testament, the term Pharisee may conjure images of hypocritical, demanding and arrogant religious men. And, for many of them, that would be appropriate. But there were some of these religious scholars who went deeper than the veneer of religious practice. Indeed, most of them obeyed so many rules because they wanted to be close to God. But, setting up rules to measure one’s divine acceptance causes two problems.

First, it creates an elitist mentality. If you are able to follow more rules than someone else, you are therefore closer to God. Live by these rules long enough and you will begin to emphasize the ones that are easiest for you to follow, and conveniently forget those you have ignored. You become a judge of all who do not follow your rules so well. You divide people into those who truly want to follow God, and those who are simply lukewarm; all based on your judgment of their response to the rules you emphasize.

Second, if you are a more self-aware Pharisee, it can create self-condemnation and loathing. You also are able to follow quite a number of the rules, but you discover your inner life to be dead. You are unable to follow all the rules well, but since they are the measure of your worth, you judge yourself as weak, uncommitted and lacking in religious zeal. You don’t judge others, you judge yourself, to your detriment. You may seek out someone who can help you solve the aching in your soul.

I think Nicodemus falls into this category. He approaches Jesus one night and starts with a bit of flattery: “Teacher, we know that you have come from God. No one could perform the miracles you do unless God was with him.” (John 3:2) Maybe it is not entirely flattery; I think Nicodemus is voicing what he has mused in his heart. “This Jesus intrigues me. The miracles are real. He speaks with authority. But he is so unlike what I imagine a religious leader to be.”

Much is made of Nicodemus approaching Jesus at night. Sure, maybe he didn’t want his fellow righteous dudes to know he was there. But let’s give Nic a break; he’s the only one who actually asked Jesus for a hearing. And, unlike the later attempts of others to trap Jesus with their questions, Nicodemus appears to sincerely desire answers.

Even though Jesus deflects the flattery, it seems he observes at least some sincerity in Nicodemus’ approach. Jesus says, “Truly, I tell you emphatically, unless a person is born from above he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

Nicodemus is taken aback, hearing Jesus quite literally. He wonders, “How can a person be born when he is old? He can’t go back into his mother’s womb a second time and be born, can he?” (Side note, his mother would be “older” than he was.)

Though it sounds mysterious, and it certainly took Nicodemus aback, I think Jesus’ answer is fairly simple. The Kingdom of God is spiritual in nature. Not “spiritual” as opposed to “natural” because all of creation is God’s world. But spiritual as above natural. The Kingdom of God exists invisibly above (in the sense of ruling over) the natural realm or the regimes of this earth. Just as we “see” the earthly regimes with physical eyes, we must have spiritual perception to see the Kingdom of God.

Just as we are born by physical parents and experience physical reality, we need a new and different kind of birth to recognize God’s kingdom. This verse has little to do with "going to heaven after I die." It is so much more than that. Unfortunately, the phrase "born-again Christian" has reduced it to an elitist saying which divides one kind of Christian from another.

Jesus was expressing a simple truth about how we experience the Rule of God in this world. We do indeed need a "rebirth" to experience this. But Jesus makes clear that He came in love so that whoever believes in Him should have "eternal life". (Just 13 verse later.) God's kingdom is full of reborn folks who have believed and trusted in Jesus. Don't narrow that down to a certain kind of "sinner's prayer" or "coming to an altar". Indeed, Jesus doesn’t even offer to pray with Nicodemus to be “born again.”

I have seen this beautiful transition from an earthly view to heavenly transform and enlighten many people’s lives. But I have also seen it turn into another set of rules. We may begin joyfully, expecting to walk in love and compassion (the hallmarks of God’s kingdom), but eventually we start adding our rules. You must be against all abortions, and you must call every abortion “murder”. If you are a baker, you must not make wedding cakes for gay marriages. You must never work on Sundays. You must vote Republican and must hate Democrats. (I’ve heard lifelong “born again” Christians say out loud, “I hate Nancy Pelosi”, the current Speaker of the House. I’ve heard “born again” preachers declare Obama was the Anti-Christ.)

I used to be among those who thought my “born again” status meant I had to identify with the “far right”. No longer. Having read the Bible independently now for over 40 years, I see Jesus emphasizing “the least of these” as he names the marginalized people among His time. I hear God calling over and over again for His people to love mercy, to practice compassion, to demand justice for the poor, the widow, the immigrant and foreigner.

In other words, I have begun to see God’s Kingdom as far more inclusive than I once thought and was taught. It is simply trusting Jesus that enables me to be “born from above”. And the way I keep growing in the life is to keep trusting Him, knowing Him. Sometimes knowing Him aligns me with my old tribe, but quite often as I see His kingdom, much of very conservative Christianity looks more like Nicodemus’ peers than Jesus.

I have a lot of growing to do, so I pray the Spirit will continue to enliven within me that which is truly spirit, that which is truly the Kingdom of God.

There is transformation, enlightenment, change of view when we experience a new birth. It changes everything. And, please remember, Jesus wasn't talking to a lowdown sinner when he said this; he was talking to a big-time religious leader!

No Deposit, No Return

“And nobody puts new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the new wine bursts the skins, the wine is spilt and the skins are ruined. No, new wine must go into new wineskins.” Mark 2:22

It makes sense I suppose, but I have become more nostalgic as I grow older. I cannot imagine a three-year-old reminiscing over the “good old days” when he was two. But, we do collect a body of loves and memories that grows greater with time. In junior high we may long for those days in grade school where we didn’t have to change classes. But, by the time we are well into adulthood we have a garage full of people and experiences tied to our heart.