Family DNA

“’But he said to them, ‘These people who hear the word of God and do it, they are my mother and my brothers.'” Luke 8:21

These words of Jesus are shocking. But I think the shock comes from how they sound, and not so much from what Jesus means. At first glance it seems Jesus is rejecting His family by blood and adopting family from an entirely different set of people.

Locked in Stone

Locked in Stone

("Look!" Joshua said to all of the people. "This stone will be a witness against us. It has heard all of the words the Lord has spoken to us. Suppose you aren't true to your God. Then the stone will be a witness against you." Joshua 24:27)

Last time you spoke to me,
or I should say,
last time miniature terms bounced across
the predated conference table,
you would not admit the words you had said
to me in private just weeks before.

But the stones know,
the mortar and the field-stones that
the master craftsman quietly measured
to last on the walls longer than his sons or
daughters would live there. We sat within
15 feet
of his handwork,

And now there are
none of us who occupy the same space.

Except the stones who know
exactly what was said, and keep the vibrations
within their molecules for centuries

And may release them, decoded; rocks have no
particular point of view. They may release them,
like bar codes which cannot ask for a judicial review.

The rocks on the wall, the pebbles in the gravel,
they all heard it true, and will hold the marvel of humans
who think the air is a vacuum where nothing is heard without
a third person.

But the stones and the boulders, have no orders to obey,
no seared conscience to sway the opinions from fact to
a better face. Even mirrors will not truth our spoken,
less our broken image.

Hold the stone to your ear and re-hear.

Lest you fear
more than I,
it holds that half of conversation which I said too;

Forgotten or faded, it holds my words unspun
and empowered enough to blush me as much
as I wish it would for you.

Numbers Don't Count

“Think of it—one of you, single-handedly, putting a thousand on the run! Because God is God, your God. Because he fights for you, just as he promised you.” Joshua 23:10 (The Message)

When God is for you, numbers simply don’t matter. That is what gives the courage and resolve to people who walk so closely to Him that their hearts beat with the same passions that God does. God had shown Israel His power and His commitment to them by subduing every nation in the Promised Land. He accomplished that even though Israel was much small in manpower and lack military training, strategy and equipment.

Of Unholy Forwards and Gossip at a National Level

Of Unholy Forwards and Gossip at a National Level

(“John the Baptizer came and did not eat the usual food or drink wine. And you say, ‘He has a demon inside him.’” Luke 7:33)

The president speaks and we would rather
drop his words on the asphalt, stirred up with the hot
summer sunshine, and serve them back as if we
were there, front and center, heard every word,
counted the freckles in his eyes, and deflected his inflections
in forwarded emails so every gullible saint

Would know the truth that
we took the time to manufacture.

Snapshots with colors (greenish squirrels) prove
the acid rained exactly how we prophesied.

Let the bragging begin, if the church service is just an hour
only handfuls of god hang around long enough to overcome
the caffeine’s fine effects.
At an hour and a half, it is so long we lost our lunch reservations,
and the roast burnt t-bone, the stew dried in the crockpot while the
crackpot
pastor spoke too long.
But run up to three hours or four and the Holy Spirit has locked the door,
no leakage or early exits, God has broken through our resistant noggins.
We judge so well, that every song, announcement, prayer and sermon
is measured in Olympic style; (poor preacher who thought God could
help him make the point in 20 minutes, and excuse the good people to
ruminate the good food from Heaven’s Bread at home. The Sermon on the Mount
takes 15 minutes read.)

Did I leave you there? Were you still wondering about snapshots and
presidential pardons? Were you still snipping buds behind your back
in the Federal Rose Garden?

Some women spend little and mean it. Some men eat less without pretense.
Some men consort with the sinners, the poor, the abused by gossip that other
saints vilify and demean it.
Some women like a Chardonnay with dinner, but when the pictures are taken
they are lushes in future tense.

I have never hated a president (it’s true), and never thought one to be the
anti-christ (even truer). But I’ve come near an unholy rage when those whose
faith is always italicized cannot disagree with humility, and start their sentences
(after counting the freckles in your eyes) with,

“Now, I’m not saying he is the anti-christ…

Upside Down Messages

“Even though I am a free man with no master, I have become a slave to all people to bring many to Christ.” 1 Corinthians 9:19

Paul was a master at blending in when it meant he could avoid causing offense to others. He didn’t mind causing a stir if it was necessary. Goodness know, there was a huge riot in Lsytra when he made it clear there was only one God, and only one Savior, Jesus Christ His Son.

The Christian Distinctive (Warning: soapbox alert)

“And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.” Luke 6:33

I am a Pentecostal. I am glad to be a Pentecostal (notice I did not say “proud”). I have been “Pentecostal” from within the first year or so of my faith in Christ. I am happy that my acquaintance with Christ was not loaded down with a bunch of doctrinal baggage that explained away what are commonly called the “gifts of the Spirit.” From early on, in a Bible study I attended with a dozen or more people who found Christ together in the mid 70s, we simply read the Bible together and accepted what it said as if it were meant for us as well.

Unrehearsed

Unrehearsed

You set the stage that day,
for a backward age that might send
you off down the years
before tears and stains painted wrinkles
at the corner of practiced smiles.

You wished it clean, the mind and matter
that scattered your private dreams toward the sky,
seen by every passerby, but still unnamed.

Your innocence passed too fast; forward through
the crowded tunnel where those who enter
all arrive at the same destination. Outside that
grand opening, with eyes squinted shut at the sun’s
silver blast,
we face each other with nowhere else to go.

You made your decision, unfeigned, unpainted;
while the grain showed the pattern of joy and pain,
your eyes caught every motion, your mouth once
announcing ocean high and low, ebb and flood;

While most of us just cover up with scented suds.

You called us to our places that day,
far ahead of your age, no wrinkles named
by curled lips, and blackbird feet;
you smelled the air, heard the spring like
lilacs overhead, and knew, old or early,
the day could not wait until more audience arrived.

She stepped out from among us, began the truth-telling
(like a folk story retelling), that helped spell-bound
the one or two, either side of her,
who heard her eschew a fully staged confession, to
trade it for the first
unrehearsed whisper.