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Commentary
One of the things I value about social media is that it has put me in touch with kindred spirits in far-flung places. I had a couple of them in mind as I wrote this poem. Both of them are ex-pastors who are rethinking aspects of Christianity–as am I. We don’t know each other personally and we seem to have different parameters for our respective examinations of faith. But we do share faith in a Savior who guarantees eternity and the expectation of satisfying friendships forever.
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Commentary
OOF. I took a long walk with a wise friend yesterday. I tried out my interpretations of the world on him. Some of them he found wanting. For his intelligent honesty and other reasons he remains a VERY GOOD FRIEND.
On the other hand…. It is sometimes essential for me to strip away the excuses and alternate explanations for what strikes me as evil. I’m a poet, after all, not an apologist or diplomat.
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Commentary
For now, I’ll just copy what I wrote on Facebook:
Susan tells me she’s glad I find comfort in writing. I think it’s called lament.
I don’t know about that last line. How can death be a disease? I tossed down this whole poem almost intuitively, not thinking deeply about my word choice. When that happens, I tend to trust my subconscious. There may be more there than meets the eye.
#changeordie #resistingchange #preferringdeath
(background image by Fernando Zhiminaicela on Pixabay)
(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
This poem comes out of reading Acts 19 (the riot in Ephesus), and contemplating what 21st-century white evangelical Christians could glean from the story.
Wouldn’t it be something if the Way actually threatened OUR comforts and privilege as it did the pagans in first-century Ephesus!
Consider this last paragraph from a 2019 piece by Washington Post columnist Michael Gerson:
Many white evangelical Christians hold a faith that appeals to the comfortable rather than siding with the afflicted. They have allied themselves with bigots and nativists, risking the reputation of the gospel itself. And, in some very public ways, they are difficult to recognize as Christians at all.
(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
Susan sometimes urges me to be patient with people who have not evolved in their thinking over the last few years. After all, I was in my late fifties before I even started examining and adjusting some major facets of my life….
But is that fair? Have the past few years really not shown us enough selfishness, inhospitality, and bigotry in ourselves and our neighbors that DEMANDS reformation?
(Background image: the trail above Norbuck Park. I took many a contemplative walk on this trail after being introduced to it by a man who wouldn’t change his ways.)
(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
My blood pressure was elevated this morning after the fitful sleep of a poet interpreting his world through metaphor. How fitting that I landed on a medical diagnosis.
THE IDEAL THAT IS SHORTCHANGED BY AUTOIMMUNE DISEASE:
So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.
(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
This poem may sound playful, but it really is a lament.
I listen to the podcasts of an Evangelical pastor who is working through his former allegiance to Evangelical beliefs and practice. He, like many of us, is distressed by the behavior of Evangelicals–make that White Evangelicals–in the past few years. Since our behavior has been so horrible, we’re forced to question our beliefs. One of his recent podcasts examined a belief that I still hold somewhat dear. Somewhat. Frankly, I am conflicted. The image of a leaky bucket came to mind as I considered my loss of confidence in this cherished belief.
I’m not going to go into details about the particular belief. Nor am I going to argue with anyone about what I perceive as horrible behavior by White Evangelicals. I’ll leave arguing for people who are good at it. The Holy Spirit is probably more convincing than I am. Right?
(background image is a mashup of the pail, by omnigrapher2016, and the stream, by lalami78, both on Pixabay)
(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)
Commentary
This morning, after I awoke, and long before I got out of bed, I began imagining a travel guide for people visiting my island. In this guide, I would introduce travelers to three groups of people they’re likely to encounter: God-deniers, God-fearers, and God-danglers.
You’ve probably never heard of God-danglers. These people may or may not utter the curse “God dangle it!” In fact, many of them would be far too proper for something so close to profanity. The term “God-dangler” originally* referred to people who wear a chain with some form of religious pendant. And—this is important—they wear it AS a talisman. In other words, they think of God as their magic charm.
But a pendant is close to the heart, and it’s important to understand that God isn’t really close to the heart of God-danglers. That’s when it occurred to me that God-danglers sometimes dangle swords at their sides. Swords, like talismans, are something people rely on to get their way.
So there you have the complete history of the term “God-danglers.” These are people who don’t technically DENY God. They also don’t really FEAR God. Rather, they see God as someone they’d better dangle along to insure they get their way while getting’s to be got.
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Commentary
I read somewhere that mental health experts have noticed a pandemic of loneliness in 2023. What happens in society happens to us. We’re not exempt. I certainly feel a sharp loneliness at times. Where does this come from? Can I fix it in my own life?
As I look around for answers, I am determined to be more strategic about friendships. There is just so much energy and time. I must work on what’s valuable, and resist what merely sucks.
(background image adapted from a photo by Peter H on Pixabay)
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Commentary
Some conversations serve as a warning: “Make sure you’re not on this path!”
This poem was inspired by a conversation I had with an elderly patron at the library where I work. Ever since that conversation, I have avoided him. Otherwise, I’d have to deflect his political jibes, misogyny, and racism. It would be terrible if other patrons thought I agree with him!
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Commentary
I’m finally reading Anne Frank’s diary. I’m a slow reader, so Sadness will hang around the next few days. She’s not my most welcome guest, but surely as wise as they come.
Almost every time I walk with Anger, I realize that Sadness would conduct me to a better place.
Note: I should use the following image as a background, if and when I get a copy with enough resolution:
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Commentary
I love it when a poem gets shorter and shorter, ’til all that’s left is one sentence.
I have asked one thing from the Lord; it is what I desire: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, gazing on the beauty of the Lord and seeking him in his temple.
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Commentary
It seems that we humans are not unified by anything. But is it possible that we are unified in rebellion against our Creator and Judge? I have been puzzling about this. The Babel story is something I’ll have to account for as I explore the idea that the biggest tribe of all is humanity. If you’re interested in where I got my imagery, read about “The Great Sedition Trial of 1944.”
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Commentary
I mean no disrespect to Notre-Dame. I chose the background photo for this little poem because when I think of flying buttresses, I can’t imagine any more prominent than those that support Notre-Dame’s vaulted ceiling.
As a side note, surely I’m not the first person to say that when I view a photo of Notre-Dame taken from the southeast (the view in the photo above), I see the flying buttresses as streams of tears flowing from the old lady’s eyes. Her eyes have seen a lot.
The Poem This morning, I was reflecting on how much my thinking has been–and is being–recalibrated. Over the last few years, I’ve had to rethink much of what I formerly thought of as good and noble in politics, religion, national and state history. Almost daily, I learn more and more about flaws in what I once thought was practically flawless. There’s a lot of sadness in this realization. On the other hand, the very low view–verging on hatred–that I had for many opposing institutions and ideologies has practically disappeared. I can now see virtue in people I once despised. I can hear what they say with an open mind. They no longer threaten me. That’s because I no longer count on the institutions they oppose. My honor is not wrapped up in a political party, or nation, or state. More and more, I’m simply a follower of Jesus. More and more, my worth is wrapped up in his worth.
Something VERY Cool Go to this link, hover over the pin for the Notre-Dame cathedral and watch a 360-degree fly-around of the beautiful building.
(background image adapted from photo by Jacques Gaimard on Pixabay)
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Commentary
LISTEN SELECTIVELY If the voices we listen to are a constant barrage of criticism leveled at “the other side,” we shouldn’t be surprised to find ourselves falling into this sin.
God help me see this sin as clearly in myself as I see it in others!
(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary)background image by Hans Braxmeier on Pixabay
Commentary
I lament that so many people (am I one of them?) are in constant “FIGHT!” mode. God bless those who demonstrate a better way: charitable peacemakers who understand that some things matter for eternity, and some things don’t.
The last line is unintentionally ambiguous. What I meant to ask was “Do you wish to beat people in arguments or to rescue them from peril?” When you say “Gotcha,” is it as a self-centered enemy, or as a God-honoring neighbor?
If it’s not obvious already, this is a re-framing of Jesus’ Good Samaritan parable.
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Commentary
It should come as no surprise that a poet thinks by analogy. This morning, I had some worrisome things in mind as I plodded through the end of Matthew. In the events surrounding the Crucifixion (as in countless other settings), Psalm 2 is played out:
Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and against his Anointed, saying, ‘Let us burst their bonds apart and cast away their cords from us.’
Psalm 2:1-3 ESV
The analogy? I sat reading in the living room, facing the kitchen, and imagining how roaches would conspire at night (if we had them). They’d gather there on the kitchen floor and hiss their hateful plans. In the end, it isn’t about roaches, but about man. He’s meant to reflect a good, loving God, but often comes closer to reflecting despicable crawling creatures.
The Title I originally meant to title this “Night Crawlers.” But then I looked that up. Worms? No, that’s not sufficiently despicable. So I looked up “roaches” and found the scientific name for the ones we encounter here in Texas: Periplaneta americana. Perfect. The divisiveness, the constant warring, the plotting…. There’s definitely an American species of this global phenomenon.
Despite the silly sound effects in my recording of this poem (and on the video version), it’s a serious poem. I promise you, it is!
I get very frustrated with narrow-mindedness, and with people who don’t develop intellectually over their lifetimes. Hopefully it’s obvious that the speaker in this poem has spent his (or her) entire lifetime defending a narrow, and tired point of view.
Looming Open Door This is the sad conclusion of the poem. Opportunity has existed at every point since the speaker’s feet touched the floor to go out and explore. Instead, he considers the world “out there” a threat.
I wrote this poem in anticipation of talking with a fellow poet. One topic I wanted to discuss with him is the vulnerability of baring your breast through revealing words. Is it insanity or inspiration?
We didn’t get to the “inspiration” part, but the “insanity” part was almost funny…. My fellow poet read me one of several poems he has written while struggling with depression. He said that people have phoned him after reading such a poem to say, “I read your poem. Are you okay?” He answers, “Thanks. I’m doing better because I wrote that poem.”
I don’t enjoy listening to people complain. I’ve noticed that other people don’t enjoy listening to me complain. Sometimes, my public complaint is answered by a public rebuke, often with an underlying, “If you were as spiritual as I am, you wouldn’t have such thoughts.”
I don’t know a good workaround. One of my jobs as a poet is to express what’s hard to express. That can include negative thoughts, and problems whose solution hasn’t appeared.
Background image is a mashup of three images from Pixabay. Mountain scene by Jörg Peter; tower by “Jazella”; night sky by Felix Mittermeier.
Commentary
This morning, I watched a YouTube video in which a professor of “Christian Psychology” explained various approaches that he and Christian peers take to secular insights. He went a long way toward helping me categorize and understand a complex subject. I especially appreciated the irenic tone he takes toward approaches that differ from his own.
Shortly afterwards, I learned that professor had been ousted from Southern Seminary because the rest of the faculty in his department are of the mind that Scripture is all we need for counseling, and that no secular insights are welcome or allowed. Not so irenic on their part!
The Title:When Every Hill’s a Place to Die A certain gentleman once complained to me about people who say things like, “That’s not a hill worth dying on.” I should say he was a “very certain gentleman.” When I asked him if there aren’t some secondary issues in Christianity for which he wouldn’t die, he answered, “I’d die for everything I believe.” I know he probably considers himself brave and loyal. Perhaps he is. But I suspect he’s also inordinately proud of his ability to fully comprehend all those issues. God is not simple; the world he created is not simple. We need to be humble about our understanding. Ask Job!
Shelter in Redoubt In warfare, a “redoubt” is a fortification to which combatants can retreat. It is often their final resort, their last defence. I picture a theological combatant (unlike the irenic professor described above) retreating to a simple structure that he thinks he fully understands. The complexities of others’ thoughts cannot defeat him as long as he is in his theological redoubt. “God said it; I believe it; that settles it,” yells the proud, combative theologian from within his little fort. He forgets that what God said isn’t always so easy to understand!
I wrote this out of intense frustration. Recently, I’ve seen a silencing or muting of pointers to God’s amazing goodness and grace. It’s not prudent for me to go into details, to trot out examples. But I could.
On Mountain Tops It’s probably no accident that my imagery is reminiscent of the giving of the Law (Exodus 19-20), and Israel’s response. To be honest, I haven’t worked out what this poem has to do with that historical event, but I sense that they are related. [NB: for “beauty” in the Law, see this article].
Subjects of His Ugliness That may be a little harsh. “His Ugliness” refers to Satan (conversely, “Beauty” refers to Jesus). Am I suggesting that some who claim to be followers of Jesus Christ are actually subjects of Satan? Not necessarily, although it is possible. Even genuine followers of Jesus do sometimes wander off the path. In Matthew’s account, shortly after Peter had acknowledged that Jesus is the Messiah (Matthew 16:16), Jesus had to rebuke him:
But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me. For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.”
Matthew 16:23
The Ambiguous Title I’m not really enthusiastic about the title. Maybe I’ll come up with something better. For what it’s worth, “Denying” is ambiguous. It can refer to being intellectually opposed to a proposition, and it can refer to successfully thwarting something. With respect to Jesus’ present reign, both senses of denial are currently in operation to one extent or another. But His coming reign cannot be stopped; it will not be denied! Every knee will bow (Rom. 14:11).
[The background photo of Kirkjufell in Iceland is by Hans Braxmeier on Pixabay (I moved the fire)].
I wrote this first thing this morning, after giving up on a restless night. About 2 or 3 am, I woke up, and could tell I wouldn’t be getting to sleep soon. So I used my monthly credit at Audible and downloaded “The End of The Affair” by Graham Greene. That title intrigued me ever since a theologian I respect recommended it to a fellow writer in response to the request, “…name one (and only one) novel that you recommend I should read?” The Audible version has the bonus of being read by Colin Firth.
So, by 7 am, I had listened to at least half of the novel. Admittedly, I dozed off during parts, but a check on synopsis sites tells me I didn’t miss much….
“Errant Love” This is the only line I’ll expand on in this commentary. “Errant” usually means something like “erring or straying from the proper course or standards.” That definitely describes the illicit affair referred to in the book’s title. I won’t describe that here. In fact, I wouldn’t want to make a regular diet of this kind of material.
But “errant” has a more archaic meaning of something like being “out on an adventure.” When the thrill seeker wanders from home, he vacates his usual place… leaving it empty. Thus, the “empty place of errant love.”
The main character in the book — Maurice Bendrix — says very early on that “This is a record of hate far more than of love.” While I don’t know much about affairs (thank God!), I do know about hatred. I have felt it. I see it, almost daily, in the most unlikely places. It occurs to me that it only takes up residence where love has abandoned its rightful place, or where love is disordered.
The Background Image The background image (adapted from a photo by Susann Mielke on Pixabay) was suggested by the setting of Greene’s novel: 1944 London, during the German blitz. The V-1 “robot” bombs buzz in from the South and make a mess of Bendrix’s apartment. In the process, they change everything, including Bendrix’s relationship with his love interest, Sarah.
This one is likely to lose me some “friends.” It is sarcastic and appeals to a sense of justice that not all share.
Whenever I see the complaint that removal of Confederate monuments will result in people not being able to learn history, I just about lose it. People who object to removal of Confederate monuments would NEVER object to the removal of statues to Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Those people would NEVER have said, “If our Marines take down statues to Saddam Hussein, how will the Iraqi people learn history?!” Why would they appeal to the “history” argument in the one case, but not in the other? Ask them. I suspect that if they’re honest they’d tell you that they’re proud of their Confederate history. In my opinion, they should be ashamed of it.
I used to defend the “States’ Rights” cause of the South.* Regardless of the extent to which States’ Rights was the real motivation for the South’s rebellion, it doesn’t fly with me anymore. RIGHTS. First of all, that’s not what followers of Christ should dedicate themselves to obtaining or retaining for themselves. See Philippians, chapter 2. In Augustine’s “Confessions” he asked, “How do I know that God is changing me, that I have made progress?” His answer: “I have learned to give up my rights.”
Securing rights for others? Well that’s surely more justified for the follower of Christ. But in the case of the Confederacy, the “rights” that the Rebels fought for was the “right” to enslave, to oppress. That’s certainly not the kind of right a follower of Christ should secure. No, that “right” is just wrong.
*”States’ Rights” is something I still hold to at a conceptual level in that I prefer decentralization of power. But when decentralized power uses its rights to cause harm (e.g., slavery), something higher kicks in. How would one define that higher principle?
BACKGROUND Recently, I have been trying to imagine what it might look like to be in a church that welcomes people from all kinds of backgrounds. Would I be willing to give up my comfort for their sake? What if they’re REALLY different? What if their politics are different than mine, different than the politics of most others in the church? Would we be able to keep things in perspective, or would we chase them off because their politics make them feel like pariahs?
Which is more valuable: a soul, or my opinion?
I was once part of a church plant where my chief motivation was comfort: I wanted to be comfortable with the style of worship, and the kind of people I’d be worshipping with. Now, I recognize comfort as an idol. Doubtless, I retain — and am even now creating — other idols, things that are more important than God’s glory. May He have mercy on me.
SEE THE DARK IRONY? I’m not smart enough to have intended the searing irony in the next-to-last line. “Like hell” was drawn lightly from recent events. But there is a reality darker than current darkness, infinitely more consequential than current comfort.
THE PHOTOGRAPH The background photo is of St. John’s Episcopal Church, which I pass by on my walks from home to Flag Pole Hill. One evening, the clouds were threatening. I confess: “HDR Scape” in Snapseed accentuated the drama. Do I feel bad about editing a photo? Not in the least…. It’s part of artistic expression. I’m not a mimeograph!
Depressed tonight, I recognize a silent battle — THE silent battle — that rages in me and friends. We occupy ourselves with any conflict at hand rather than the conflict at heart. We are intended by God’s merciful will to be fully won over in the battle to be reconciled, to be transformed into children worthy of fellowship with our Elder brother, Jesus Christ.
Jesus is the Victor. He won over sin that enslaves, weakens, and demoralizes us. He knows how we began; He also knows how we’ll end. Getting us there is His kind purpose (the Victor’s end).
So, why am I depressed? Largely because I see a problem in truly dear friends, a problem that probably afflicts me as well. They are — perhaps I am as well — occupied with silly, worthless conflicts. They are living in echo chambers that reinforce their perception that what they occupy themselves with is important. I sometimes despair of getting through to them. I don’t want to argue with them. They sometimes “like” what I write, apparently not realizing that it is completely antithetical to the trivial pursuits, the phony wars that call them forth. Some undoubtedly see me in the same sad light.
I wrote on Facebook that we need to pray for one another. God alone is able to rescue us from meaningless, hollow lives. He alone can replace depression with love, hope, and commitment.
I wrote this partly in response to Mary’s wise and beautiful poem in Luke 1:46-55.
The subject of POWER has been much on my mind, in part because I have been reading Robert Greene’s entertaining but amoral “The 48 Laws of Power.”
I have been thinking about how God-fearers should relate to power. Of all God’s attributes that we can and should reflect, since He made us in His image, this seems to be one of the most dangerous.
[NOTE: I was very intentional with my punctuation, even in introducing ambiguity to the title]
A friend asked me if there should be a comma after time. Here’s what I told him:
The absence of a comma opens this up to at least three interpretations. I know this style’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Are you familiar with ee cummings’ “my father moved through dooms of love“? That poem brings me to tears whenever I read it.
The slight effort of getting past the absence of punctuation in cummings may add to its emotional impact. Speaking of tea…. Coffee is better than tea precisely for its body, that it slides down not so easily.
So, here are some pointers to meaning:
“In time” can mean “eventually”
“Time out of mind” is unimaginably long, think Eternity.
In a polarized world, it is always “us” versus “they” (deeper in grammar, “us” receives the malevolence that “they” inflict — objective vs subjective). I like to think of a time when there is such peace between a broad diversity of people, that all of us are “WE,” and we never even think of “THEM.”
Currently, things are not as they should be. Even at home, we know we are not where we wish to be. A time is coming when we’ll be where we long to be. Then and there, we’ll be at ease. Then and there we’ll be content with here and now.
Where will we be? In the presence of the One who is making all things new, the One who will satisfy our hopes and dreams. Now, He often seems distant. We refer to Him in second person, as “He.” Then we’ll address Him face-to-face as “You.”
I read that a writer comes alive by telling dead men’s tales. Here’s one such tale, though it’s not the *men* who died. This little poem was a lament. A dear friend had tried to persuade someone that his even-handedness in politics is NOT a retreat from righteousness. But the opponent was trapped in his or her allegiance to one end of the political spectrum.
December 20, 2021 Update: This problem has only grown worse over the last 17 months. I’m now reluctant to talk openly with people I once considered eminently reasonable. I fear being disappointed, and I fear opening the door to enmity where no enmity existed before. Now, more than ever, I live with this refrain: “Anything I say can and will be used against me.” I have a Christ-like friend who had to get off social media because there is someone out there — supposedly a Christian — literally building a case against him, misinterpreting anything he says, casting it in the worst possible light, and cataloging the supposed sins. Call that someone The Accuser.
The Internet browser fills my head with worrisome headlines. They did this! They are doing that! They, they, they. Soon, I forget to look for what He is doing.
I didn’t get much sleep last night, pondering thoughts that wouldn’t pass muster in Angelology 101: Imagine for a moment the possibility that angels don’t possess our (humans’) imagination…. How odd we might seem to them. We philosophize, rhapsodize, and consistently compromise, imagining all along that thinking counts as doing, believing as obeying.
At a recent luncheon at Dallas Seminary, a young lady asked the Australian speaker a profound question, which he didn’t seem to understand: “Does having grown up under monarchy help you better understand these concepts?” I immediately understood her because I think a lot about what is influencing my thinking. The following [above] poem is one attempt to discern how I am affected by having grown up under representative democracy. There have been societies where people didn’t spend a fraction of the time we do THEORIZING about how GOVERNMENT should use our neighbors’ money to effect justice and virtue. Sometimes it seems that’s ALL we do.
We Protestants love the phrase “Kingdom of Priests.” But I fear we may love it for the wrong reason. We love the privileged access we have to God, not the responsibility that entails with regard to God and our fellow man. We are in danger of exchanging “proxies” for “priests.” If you think this is a call to embrace one perishing political system over another, you could not be more wrong. It is precisely the reliance on foolishness of the left and foolishness of the right that I am trying to escape.
