She couldn't quite chase it down,
Afraid to be seen.
Not with abandon did she run,
Rather, an inching, crawling,
Turn away again,
Inch. Crawl. Turn.

But she did
In the end
catch a
glimpse
Of that wicked thing she should not see.

Herself.

All the many things

That broke that day,

being too stark to mention,

clustered hard into a lump

that lived in the back of her throat

always ready to stop her 

breathing

And neighbors with hearts of cherry pie could stretch their minds eyes as wide as they might see

And still

Never

See

Her

They could scrape great efforts from bowls of scribbled theories 

or mix together twisted scriptures

To deliver her the 'truth that hurts'

even Jesus' heart

and she would still be 

sleeping with her eyes open

Dreaming vivid things,

ill and wild

as a mad black wave,

trying not to 

take the train

her mother did

before it was even literal

A Precarious Balance

Do you have to take the bible literally to be a Christian? Why don't Christians do more to help the needy? Is helping the needy really all that Jesus wanted from Christians? 

Social media is blowing up lately over the controversy surrounding the Christian band Gungor and their approach to answering such questions. The controversy, however, only highlights an already escalating tension that seems to exist between Christians who strongly emphasize solid biblical theology (what you know and believe about God and the bible) and those who rally for stronger social justice (what you do for those who are hurting).

Lead singer of the now notorious Gungor band, Michael Gungor, himself states "If I'm on the side of a road bleeding, I don't care if the priest or the Levite have beautiful 'beliefs' about the poor and the hurting … Give me the Samaritan. The heretic. The outsider who may have the 'wrong' 'beliefs' in words and concepts but actually lives out the right beliefs by stopping and helping me. That's the kind of belief I'm interested in at this point." His words would give us the impression that your ability to know and articulate what you believe about God is of little importance. That only helping people is important. Loving your neighbor is all that truly matters.

And on the other side of the coin you see churches of people, perfectly able to spout lines of doctrine and Scripture, who never step outside of their own front doors to help the suffering or needy. And this gives the impression that only theology matters, and loving your neighbor is far less important. So which is it? What matters most and what pleases God most?

I guess, rather than looking to any fallible person to answer the question, I try to make a habit of looking to Jesus himself when deciding on such pertinent issues. What type of example did He give us to follow when it comes to Scripture, compassion, giving, living and teaching?

One of the first things that comes to mind when considering His example, is John 6 where He feeds five thousand men from just five small loaves of bread and two fish. The first part of this event, suggests what Jesus would have us do for those who are needy. Obviously, He fed them! The myriad lessons that flow from this story on generosity and on giving when you have little are more than I can mention here. But it is important, I think, that Jesus did not sit in a huddle with His disciples and feed only them, but made a way for all the hungry there to eat. However, if you keep reading this chapter in John, it is apparent that Jesus isn't done talking about bread.

In passages 25-59, the disciples have grown hungry again and are looking for Jesus. This time, Jesus rebukes them saying, “Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For on him God the Father has placed his seal of approval.” When the disciples are confused by this, Jesus goes on to explain that He is the bread of life, the Messiah, and that He alone can give them eternal life.

So what does the last part of this chapter suggest about Jesus' thoughts about theology? Does it matter if we can articulate who God is and what He has done? I think it's an obvious "yes" and a closer examination of the passage shows that He does a lot more articulating truth and theology than I have summarized here. 

So what does this mean about what is most important? Jesus did feed the five thousand first. Not to mention, there are piles of other references about helping the poor, needy and widows throughout all of Scripture. So there is really no excuse for sitting in a pew week after week, staying comfortable and keeping your wallet to yourself. That's a kind of a given here.

But when it comes to what is most important, Jesus speaks of himself again in verse 58,59 saying "This (I) is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” This suggests to me that the bread (the serving, the giving, the helping) though important, is not enough.  Jesus placed a huge significance on defining the gospel to the people that looked to Him. In this passage alone, He speaks of His deity, His divinity, His power and His love...all very theological, doctrinal concepts (not to mention beautiful and personal, too). He does not use the fact that helping isn't enough as an excuse not to help, but He uses the physical, material meeting of needs as a means of introducing the truth to the world.

So, what's of worth in the eyes of God when it comes to helping the needy, hurting, broken world? Both! Both solid biblical theology and great gestures of compassion are essential. But, in Jesus' example, neither can exist without the other. The "heretic with the wrong beliefs" who helps the person bleeding on the side of the road but can't tell them where to find the Bread of Life, falls short of his call, as does the man who preaches gems of wisdom but walks away. I pray that Jesus would empower us together to be the hands, feet, mouth and heart of God that can help the broken and hungry far beyond just a plate of macaroni & cheese today, to a much greater, eternal feast with Him someday.

bluefin

it was six
when you finally breathed
i think the waves on the rocks made you do it
and your breath
brought life to me
released tendons and tensions and sadness we never
had time to ponder

in the warm water
with sweet-smudged cheeks,
white sheets
and pepper
        you exhaled death and inhaled me

and  i couldn't stop kissing your face

into the blue i asked you
to open me today
to crawl inside
where i could feel you

and i'll take the rain and the knives
and the pain too

whatever it takes for the joy that comes afterward

in earnest

large windows and yellow sun
warm water and
sparkle

we chased it like we were starving
and forgot that we are full

thankful today
for red diesel brakes
and teapots that boil hot enough

to make us simmer and slow

reflect on the richer things,
You
and each other
and the wonderful
serenity of having all we need
in
that
Alone

oh-pen-ned

i write to You
knowing that no one else
knows me like You do;

knows the pitfalls and the turns
and the places my ankles like to twist into,
and no one else can catch me better
or hold my hand as tight,
or
see inside me
like this...

see the tangled up-
mangled up-
maze of me
and still say,
           
 Beautiful.
             and
            
Free.
       and
           
Clean.

You are
what 
You are

and
the most dazzling of dreams
is not trade-able
for

these keys that you've made for me
the grace where You've bathed me
and the promise of forever with You

because we know

while i was so busy
bruising my fingers
pretending to help
(and actually believing I was)
I forgot
that

you are.

just a child,

and we can.

just laugh together.

and we can.

just cry.

and we can.

just Stop.

with all the
trying
      So Hard.

and start
smiling
      H a r d e r

because,

we know

The Way
in which
     The bless-
     ed
Rainbow
Bends

Possibilities

Last night,
while warmed by grey and yellow vines,
I saw your soul flicker.

With my heart on its knees
And with words not belonging to me
the view that formed
Thawed one particle of you,

And quick
Like a dancing firefly

I saw
the launch of us,
Bigger and stronger
than cast iron cages
Soaring from
The attic window

All the Pretty Crashing

you have ruined me good
to the point that i want nothing but You,

to the point that everything
is flavorless
But

your
   deep
   True kiss

and everything
is plain
But
your
   blazing eyes
   That i can't stop
    wanting

i blame you for this wonder,
i blame you for this opening,
i blame you for this apathy,
about Anything not
revolving
Around
you,

because you are
        so sweet
and you taste 
         so good
that my heart
         is full
and my hunger
         empty
for anything but
         more
         more 
         More
         of You

you will really know love when you are nothing

you saw me
when a skeleton, I was,
with not even a feather
to warm me.

                 Before this,

there had been decades
of warm meals,
steady enough to believe in
And large eyes, so beautiful,
they turned me to
 a Fool,
somehow surprised
by the spit on my face
and the direction of laughter.

                  Later,
in the alley, there,
tender & starved,
you found me,
unable to breathe
or cry,
or believe anymore

and with hands Larger than my soul,
you gripped the cancer from within my bones,
ripped it out of me with kisses,
while patches of flesh
grew beneath your breath,
Your life
blood
climbing into my callow veins,
until
You were Nothing Left
and Everything to me

at the same time

blueandpink

These things you are/aren't saying
are worse than Bricks

We smash
Ballistic glass
til we're sleepy
and bleeding

My dear love,
how did we end up
here in Babylon again today?
rushing at one another
all wrong

let's chase the place
where the Gold melted into water
and let our Chacos fill with sand
holding hands until we're
Lighthousing
again.

We are the only ones left
for each other
you know
That's how we started
That's how we must go.

Let's quiet down
and hear each other now
Let's silent down
and turn each other
back toward the Sun
back toward what brings us together
again

to Stay There

This is it.

This is what you need. 

All you need.

And where you stay.

This is where you live

In that minute

Where you’ve felt it.

All the shame on your shoulders taken away.

All the blame removed and the heartache softly touched.

And the joy in the cleanness.

And the floor hitting gratefulness,

of an unknown tenderness

           holding you until you stop squirming away.

           holding you until you heal.

           holding you until 

No words

And no deed,

And no winter

And no wounds

can define or deface you

again.

i must admit,
i enjoyed it less,
dizzy in my head from making sure you did.
Dr.P says i'm transferring

taking all that doesn't belong to me
and swallowing it backwards
 but I can't help it,

it was born in me this way(
&
that Huge time when
mymotherleftmyfathersad,
                           it was etched there
f o r e v e r 
)

,the need to make
everyone Else
better 
&
First,

or tumble apart,
like a rolling spool
            too fast
                 for
                    catching

windowsill

It still hurts. Like it shouldn't.
At night/
and while driving/
when a red truck passes/whistle blows/face shows
or it flashes...

Sometimes I wonder if the restoration
was on too Old of Bones.

There are all these promises I know,
about You
and time and how things
leave

but these daffodils stand Deathless still
In an already broken windowsill
Please
won't You squeeze
it
out/shut?

Delta

From up here

The cities are
a circuit board
the factories,
just thimbles,
and life
      is
      pinch-able

Pure
Thick
Cream
erupts from
fields of mesh
into
   white    whipped   cloud    oceans

Subtle
lavender layers,
with a glittery ear
undulate over

birthmark ponds,
river scribbles,
freckled
wrinkle-hills

Proportions warping from
Me to Wonder.
As my  3 x 5 world
rockets glimpses
of You.

Just tell me
so I can unwind myself
Where the next cut will be
And I can remind myself
(maybe)
To burn the drawbridge
All the way

You said
That he said
That he knew
That there was nothing
and then something happened
All over again
And just like always

And I don't have enough prayers left
for another sequel
I don't have enough soul left
For the next reprise

Watching you on
A black carousel
is a drill
That digs too deep

You've got to keep
Your carnival

Off. My. Street.
(I think I mean it this time)

BPD

I read about you.
Not sure what type of species could detach like that,
I studied you.
Desirous of an explanation
to account for this mutation
in our Knobby
wounded Tree.

But nothing fit in boxes
and there was no black & white to shuffle a conviction toward.
Just a steady stream of
toxic milk
and fingers smashed
beneath the silk
and yellow nails
while glasses shine
and running out of
space for lines
and trashy phrases masked with lies,
discovered texts and alibis
And yet my memory
dares defy
the only place left not to cry
(againagainagainagainagainagainagain)

So you go on with Purple crayons
sketching all your made up plans
that broke your boy
and killed my heart

and when you're done
Just
press

RESTART.

Listen closely

though daily chaos-cotton muffles
         
          Night's a silent jack hammer to
 tortoise shells
          of tasks-
          and-
          to-
          dos

Peel your eyes
and beneath the layers, find,

     the fragile blue canary
   
     Limping.

Hear now
         how she breathes,
        
          the Thick cream
         of memories

         Restless.
         Waiting.

     Reach now slowly
into her feathers
 
Feel them hunger
    
after Yellow
    or perhaps
    a chance
             to
                 Die.

         Haunting.

the new big

the spiral bothers her now,
how neat and clean it seems
while Life is messy.
She likes to tear things up and glue them on.
Keep the beauty free of fancy.

It occurred to her
At the cabin/
Around the Flying Pig/
In the garden/
that Small
      is big
and the people,
their nuances and charms,
are worth
knowing.

Suddenly it's strange, how
achieving used to be her food
but now
it's

Just

Breathing~

the milky lavender of an unexpected iris,
the porch swing,
letters on handmade papers,
expressions on faces,
the words
marching
swaying
singing
           across tables and warm space,
the fluidity of ink&brushes.

She has Decided now

that

slowing down
Does Not mean
stopping...

             It only means

Starting
over
Smarter,

Letting wrinkled edges Win.