It Was All Unpredictable

It Was All Unpredictable

(“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.” 2 Timothy 1:6)

Everybody needs some time because
there’s no one left to blame. Look around you,
all the suspects have been framed. All the runners
came up lame. And you and them and we will all
never be the same. We went. We came. And then I said:

I’m just the kind who won’t show up where I’m not wanted.

It was all accidental, and if it wasn’t, it was experimental.
My roost is too chilly to hatch half a plan. My time too empty
to recreate a masterpiece fully complete with classic characters
playing their music for a king. I steal words now from
songs I listen to. I haven’t written a melody in 54 weeks.

I’m just the kind that would love to sing around the campfire.

It was all unpredictable. Why do you say you thought it would
come to this? I can fill the page with printable ink only to waste it
by the end of the day. I used to have something to say; now I meander
from wall to wall while the memories swirl around the chimney when
the storms are delayed.

I’d walk in the rain if that would warm your thoughts toward me.

I swear I’ll write another song someday. But I have no one to
play them for.
I have no one to correct my cliches.
I swear I’ll sing another tune someday. But I have no one to
sing them with.
I have no one to co-write anything.

I’d sit the afternoon with you. Bring your guitar and your newest tune.

There is a steel wall between my wanting and my writing,
there is a dark gravity that keeps me from the sky.
There are memories of blue, dreams unpursued
that leave me jealous of the crows that yell at the
dogs in the yard. Everything is on standby till I
take pen in hand.

I’d write on the porch today if only I could read it aloud for you.

And the Train Careened Off the Tracks

 

And the Train Careened Off the Tracks

(“You will not be afraid of the terror by night, or of the arrow that flies by day.” Psalm 91:5)

And the train careened off the tracks.

Maybe we are ugly for a reason,
maybe our crazy has hardened our faces.
I don’t know how to live normally,
there is too much that is contagious and
I live uncontained.

I visited the stage on the closing night
when several friends were players.
The music of drama, the greasepaint of comedy
have always enchanted me
and I wished I could join them in their
costumes and paces. Below the trodden boards
and after the curtain call
I walked past the limelight and loved
the champagne popping, the fogging machine
locked away for a season.
And I spent extra time with the one who,
though transferred from show to show,
removed from touch to memory,
had been my heart from Shakespeare to
silliness on high school afternoons. She
cried like we might never see each other again.

Sadness is not the same as fear,
tears are not equal to despair,
but the night remains restless while my
heart is tucked away beneath invisible arms.
Dreams come easy when the mind spills
from daylight frightening to night-time lighting
(just a covered bulb in the corner socket will suffice.)

And I ushered my thespian friends into the
next train hoping it would keep us all together
until the morning shone on our worn-out faces.
Settled in and lounging, drinks in hand and
kisses while the rails rocked us like a cradle
all the way

Until the end of the line when,
uninstructed about braking such a machine,
I sent the train careening off the tracks.

I awoke and you were gone; you had not died. But
still I miss you, whether in the long-waves of
memory
or the shortwave of dreams.

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!