Playing Nice

Playing Nice

^“Now, brothers and sisters, be filled with joy. Try to make everything right, and do what I have asked you to do. Agree with each other, and live in peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you.” 2 Corinthians 13:11

“If you kids can’t play together nicely, you can’t play together at all!” Most of us recognize Mom’s voice behind those words, don’t we? My brother is two and half years younger than me, and I’m afraid I took advantage of that age difference as we grew up. One sunny west Texas day, Joel and I were playing outside. He was about three and I was five or six. We had little metal cars and were creating streets in the dust for them. Eventually, growing tired of that, I started just throwing my car up in the air and watching it fall. One time, quite by accident, it fell right on top of his skull. The blood scared me to death. I don’t remember how many, but the little guy required stitches.

Surprise: Some People Don't Like Me

“Those people are surprised now that you do not do the same wrong things they do. And they say wrong things about you.” 1 Peter 4:4

Let’s face it, none of us wants to be disliked. I didn’t huge slices of my time to theater productions in high school hoping people would boo me onstage. I didn’t join my first Kiwanis club hoping the people in town would call me names. The same is for all of us, isn’t it? Perhaps you are part of a hunting club, or a group who plays dominoes once a month, or the Yearbook club at school. We never join with the thought, “And I’m sure this will make me hated by my friends.”

Hid Away from the Enthusiasm

(image at http://brianzahnd.com/category/jesus/)

Hid Away from the Enthusiasm

(“Jesus therefore, perceiving that they were about to come and take him by force, to make him king, withdrew again to the mountain by himself.” John 6:15)

I.

Hand me the power, wrap it in brown newsprint,
if no one will be king, it might as well be me.
Find me the rulebook, set it on my desk,
if no one will read it, I will edit it for free.
Buy me a new suit, tailor it perfectly,
then I will wear it fiercely, a lion, a tiger,
an animal louder that hunts alone.
Bring me an arsenal, prepare me for bloodshed,
the first sword I brandish will not tarnish before
used by some opposite instead.
Lay out my best words, digital or scribed,
poached and borrowed, paint them broadly
on highway signs; be sure each traveler subscribes
to my etched denouements.

Map the best lake possible, preferably white and
windswept, and I will cross it, if I must, barefoot.

Next (what is the quantity and the order so far?)
be sure to bag it all slowly, in the express lane.
Let my name be clearly seen on my credit,
my license to drive, social security and
preacher’s club card. Run these errands
in the heat of the day, pass out the gospel
exactly as I’ve dictated. Find a way to
miraculously lock the door from behind and
let my name and my plans stand above each
revolving door. We will schedule the rally once
the funds are raised.

If no one will be king, it might as well be me.

II.

It was in this narrow valley, Jesus, between two miracles
(multiplied meals and a walk upon the waves)
they wanted a king, but You

Found the undisclosed cave near the mountain’s peak,
and waited
until the crowd’s crush had passed.

Two Men, One Moment

Two Men, One Moment


"Two Men, One Moment"

(“Jesus started crying.” John 11:45)

Pasted on the windows, keeping out the light are the
dead estimates of the number of fakes made,
shallows populating,
skin-deep cooperating to make my town the
counterfeit;

And the places where the sun shines

The true light and glory.

We tape the posters of pass receivers,
nouveau divas,
politics with promises and
models in million-dollar dresses

Then complain how superficial the world has become.

Spit from our own tongues days after
hearing His love
we cannot wait to hate the fake
we think permeates the circle I’ve drawn
so narrowly.

I don’t know why Lazarus died,
a sickness, a bug, with no known cure.
Jesus didn’t care the cause, and He omitted the cure,
wasting His time until finally arriving.

Life for Lazarus, the weepers, the hired mourners,
the laughers, the gaffers, the know-it-alls who hate
the drama
and stir up more than their share.

He saw the tears and did not measure the sincerity
in metrics, the misery in gallons. He did not listen
for the earnest lamentations, or chastise those who arrived
simply for the show.

He showed up late, Lazarus died, the family was confused,
a few cast Him aside and most didn’t have an opinion at all
unless it suited their momentary emotions.

Me, I’ll make it
clear who is fake and who is not, and show how deep I’ve become
in my old age.

Jesus, focused and peripheral
merely cried with the crowd

Before opening the tomb for Lazarus to depart
without injury. Two men, one moment, who
hadn’t measured the opinions or the drama