Resisting the Devil (when you'd rather cry foul)

“Firm in your faith, resist him (the devil), well aware that throughout the world sufferings of this kind are imposed upon your brotherhood.” 1 Peter 5:9

If we are not careful, personal suffering can make us become nearsighted. Think about the effect of physical pain. I experienced second and third degree burns over the lower half of my right leg a year and a half ago. The pain was some of the most intense I have ever felt.

On His Throne

“That being so,” he continued “listen to the Lord’s word: I saw the Lord sitting on His throne with all the throngs of heaven standing around Him at His right and left.” 2 Chronicles 18:18

Whether it is present events, or just the nature of living in a fallen world, life can feel pretty bleak sometimes. For me personally, the mix is exacerbated by a continuing battle with depression. I gain one moment of seeing life from an alpine view, above the clouds, clear skies and clear-headed, and then can find myself dashed into darkness for another interminable length of time.

January Sunday

January Sunday

Likely upon the January grasses, pellets had landed
overnight, translucent and white, pixels random,
in tandem with the dewdrops earlier arrived.

Expectations rise upon the opening skies,
blue unveiled, framed and valanced,
gray and white balanced surrounding the staccato window.

I hear the crunch beneath my soles,
bb’s enmeshing blades of grass and answering
the blackbird’s opening monologue.

No one takes it casually, the ice might make
us a river slide if the temperature falls 2 or 3.
No one dresses up for the occasion, Sunday morning

Waking once more.

Not yet snow, but threatening so, we wait until
the invitation is final.

Be Seated

"Be Seated"

(“I will take my stand on my post, station myself on the tower, and watch to see what He will say to me; what answer I shall receive concerning my complaint.” Habakkuk 1:17)

I have waited faster without hearing the wind bring
a lasting balm to grant the answer

I must have already known.

Feet raised upon the end of the couch,
head sunk into the pillow,
the quiet must be cut by tv
to dot the self-talk, the dialogue, trialogue,
self-cast reruns of regrets I cannot redo or
fewer away.

I need someone to dry my eyes,
I need to know everything’s alright,
(the tears have evaporated since)
I need a word to match the actions,
a lifelong flash in the darkness that opens the
corners to view.

I hate to complain, to sing the blues to a brilliant Master
of dis-Illusion, but I’ve felt for sometime my racing radio plays
crisscrossing in my thoughts height and length-ways

Need a better match than where my bony feet lead me
these days.

So, punctuate me, please, so I know when my first act ceases
and Your intermission:

New paradigm please!

Speak to me, I can’t figure it out anymore.
I’ll say, “If you say, ‘let the vision wait’, I’ll wait”
But I’m rock-sure I’m uncertain which is Your vision
and my screenplay.

Strike the set, already!

I’ll stand stark on the black paint stage floor,
won’t call it a monologue with nothing to say;

a listening play.

The cast is now seated, legs up on the couch,
ready to vouch for every word You might say.

I Cannot Refrain

“So they summoned them and gave orders not at all to refer to or to teach in reliance of the name of Jesus. But Peter and John replied to them, ‘…we cannot refrain from telling what we have seen and heard.’” Acts 4:18-20

Peter and John, as well as the other disciples, were not educated in the elite manner of the ruling religious leaders. That does not mean they were scholarly dropouts, they just lacked the necessary requirements to teach religion. Or so it seemed to the ones who did have the education; the Sanhedrin.

A Temple Honoring

A Temple Honoring

(“My father David very much wanted to build a temple honoring the Name of God, the God of Israel.” 2 Chronicles 6:7 [The Message])

How deep are the foundations, past bedrock, clay and sand;
how high are the girders stretching beyond beams of the morning;
how thick the walls to hold it all, how pure the air to conserve it all

To hold in a single room

One sunset, a single glance, light upon eye the spectrum spread
horizontal past the whitecaps and on to cradle in the westerly haze.

How much larger the room for a nightful,
pinpoints larger than the nine planet orbit,
brighter than the daysweat summer,
added dimensions beyond 2 or 3 and can we fit it all
in wood and lather, plaster and i-beam, so it seems
as glorious as a walk in midnight after aurora borealis?

What made can hold the created?
What manufactured can house universal art?
What hammer can pound the nails for thunder?
What bandsaw can whine lightning’s length?

And with less than a handsaw You have placed
the glory greater than all Your design;

Will the Designer Dwell in manmade houses;

Yet You lodge, You linger, not sojourn but
Eternal humanly housed. Space is laced with
cold and dark, vacuum and vagrancy,

But lively, dense and sunrise embrace,
You chose Your abode, the forgiven human heart.

I Won't Blame

I Won’t Blame

(“Everyone was amazed by the many miracles and wonders that the apostles worked.” Acts 2:43)

I know You are great,
and sometimes miracles wait,
and I’m often late in showing up for prayer.

I won’t blame it on my aches, though I’m sure they make
me a stride slower in finding my way.

I will find the way, today, newest of the year,
to be amazed at what You have done and not
rerun every cry I felt has split the sky without
a return reply.

Blinded eyes healed in front of my eyes,
sick and near death alive and lively surprised,
another job when there were none to be found,
a house, provision, safety without revision,
and rescue when the blizzard tried to impound
me along the icy snow banks.

But I must say, I cannot forget, how lonesome I feel
in spite of the facts and wonders; I feel my soul has been
plundered and my imagination
slowed like molasses. Times are tight, God, and You have
met our needs. I am without complaint.

Except for this uncertain and sad day which has no
hearth on which to place its head. I love You, and love You still,

But I ask for one more, one more miracle to
fill me whole, distill my sadness and reduce me
to love once again.