Monthly Archives: April 2019


To go by what I see
Illuminates by sorrow
A broken world of bigotry
Cruelty inherited tomorrow
From the carelessness of today

But there’s another way:

To walk by what I believe
Casting light on circumstance,
So the shadows only grieve
Until what is coming supplants
All that has been

And earth is healed and purged of sin.

The Lame Child

I am not
a mover and a shaker,
except for being moved by You,
and quaking
before Your Holy presence.

I am not
ready to rattle the gates of hell,
where I grew up,
but I must tell
how You brought me out.

I have not
been educated
by anyone but You,
nor dedicated
by any but You.

I have not
the lungs for the sprint,
nor legs for the marathon
Can the lame be sent?
Yet even on my litter

I praise You.

I have
seen Your kindness blaze
beyond the darkest sins
and most broken ways
to weep with us.

I have
been indelibly marked
by Your deep beauty
the grace that embarks
on a selfless crusade

I am
changed by Your story
the timeline of love,
of promise, and unstained glory,
of tears cherished and abolished.

I am
the little one You saved
too weak to be strong
too wounded to be brave
but You’ve dwelled with me

And I will ever praise You,

as long as I have a song
it belongs to
The Great I Am.

The Quotidian Sisyphean

I’m in wonder before a panoramic view:
An overturned sock hamper,
A room thrown askew
With toys and trash and odds and ends
Rocks to push uphill, then blink,
Then push uphill again.
Vehemently my back complains
As everything falls out of reach
I struggle for motion through the pain
But a thing at rest tends to stay still,
And a thing in motion
Is only rolling down the hill.

Each Part Equal

There is a balm in Gilead!
Your Word brings comfort to my spirit
Stilling my anxious heart,
You open me to hear it.
The world entire may spurn
This offering I bring,
But I bring it to You-
These are my special things:
Gifts You gave me to offer,
And, in time, I believe I’ll understand
The work Your finger
Traces in the sand.
I will not call good evil,
Or roll my eyes at Your gifts
Which are all good and perfect
And each gift fits
Perfectly in the other
One complete tapestry
Each string valuable,
Woven in mastery
By Your fiat.

Praise You for who You are,
Within Yourself,
And for allowing us to look,
To see,
To know You,

To be healed,
To be set free
To serve You freely.

Pete and Repeat

I’m repeating myself these days,
Forgetting the myriad of ways I-


“Can I have gum?”

……”I  already said no.”

I’m repeating myself these days,
like the history tucked in lost pages


“Yes, I can have gum?!”

I’m repeating myself these days…


For this reason I kneel before You:
The unfathomable love
With which You’ve pursued
Your unworthy child;
Your majesty is manifold-
Beauty unspoiled, grown wild
Through all broken creation
And I have vowed
To tell of Your works to every nation,
As far as I’m able,
In every generation
As You make me capable
Because You deserve it all.

And though I squirm and squeal
In the fetal pain of maturation,
Serving You is still my highest ordination
And my most treasured privilege.

Labor Pains or Death Throes?

What is this pain slicing through my soul?
Have I been a fool all my life?
I’ve never been whole.
Is anyone whole?

I don’t understand why it hurts now,
After all the years interred.
What purpose is there in somehow
Exhuming what remains?

Nothing about me is useful
Or tolerable
When I was youthful
at least I had potential.
Perhaps I spent it all.

There’s some key I’m missing:
Some slipped space between
the teeth of ability and identity
Listing to the side of isolation.

I am starting to think there may just be
some kind of battle again raging
Over who I am to be.
Who am I to be?

The failure?
The slave?
The suicide?

The victory?

Which of these things most resembles me?

Speak now,
so I may forever hold my peace.