Never Sleeps

While a pastor on the Fort Berthold Reservation I was honored with the Indian name, "NeverSleeps". It was primarily because I was often responding to particular needs in the middle of the night.

Even more relevant, the Lord Himself, Maker of all, "Never Sleeps".

Surely you know.
Surely you have heard.
The Lord is the God who lives forever,
who created all the world.
He does not become tired or need to rest.
No one can understand how great his wisdom is.

Isaiah 40:28

Welcome to every reader. I am a simple follower of Jesus. He is perfect, I often fall short.

Showing posts with label revolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label revolution. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 7, 2022

More Like Trumpets than Cannons


 More Like Trumpets than Cannons

(“The wolf will romp with the lamb, the leopard sleep with the kid. Calf and lion will eat from the same trough, and a little child will tend them.” Isaiah 11:6 [The Message])

Do you see where you are swimming,
can you feel the rising tide,
do you hear the play-sounds coming
from just outside your preconceptions?

The world is brimming with shalom,
the hallelujahs are from babies, from bouncing children
on trampolines with
pet dogs frolicking in the dewy grass.

Do you watch for the river to rise,
do you see through the disguise of the
hardened pharaohs and pharisees who only
sing when they are well paid? Do you
listen to the free-song of the river and rocks,
the whistle of the sand and the bird-flutes above
the marina? Do you wait for the dawn, do you
walk there at dust,
do you see the resolution, the turning of the day
that presages
the revolution of the ages
to teach us all, near and far,
to study war no more.

Kneel at the banks, and bring one more,
to kneel beside you. The scores have been settled,
the conflict that bent us like predatory bludgeons
is dying downriver. Diving downriver into
the baptism that overflows with shalom.

Let us listen; the peaceful sounds are shouted,
more like trumpets than cannons,
and the children will lead the victory parade
from downtown to battlegrounds now refurbished
for picnics and play. All the sun does is
tickle the river below. A lightshow,
a spectacle of wine-cheered rejoicing that
earth is bubbling with the laughter of children who
will
never ever study
war again.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Some


Some

(“Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wants to become my follower, he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.’” Matthew 16:24)

Somewhere along the borderline where barriers keep
the best in and
the worst out
a new sound announces the revolution we had counted on.

Somehow, without looking pious or smug, with smudged faces
the artists and
artisans
fired the message without powder, shot or laser guidance.

Sometimes the message is seen when failure transforms our resistance
to powerful
logic and love,
lost and found
like prodigals who hear the confession’s echo from every returning son.

Some-why does not answer the question of sentinels who guard
the entrance and
the exit
and have never had to leave home for a far country for food.

Some-who, ears to the ground, understand the vibration of hammers and wood,
unbegun and
never done,
the sacrifice that turned the world on its head undivided and fenceless.