We all still die

in the end.

There is no other exit,

no other doorway into eternity.

My son Jon said,

“Time is like a little line

drawn through eternity

and sooner or later

we all fall off the line

into forever

and Jesus

catches us.”

“Daddy, will you catch me?

Catch me, dad,

catch me.”

But we grieve as ones with hope

and what is my hope?

My comfort

–that I belong

body and soul

to my faithful savior

Jesus Christ.

There is no other hope.

My hope is built on nothing less

than Jesus’ blood

and righteousness……

I just don’t get prayer.

Why do we pray?

A little girl prays

for blue dinosaur pinata.

Her mom crows in victory

when they spy one in the market

and reassures her daughter,

“SEE? God does hear our prayers!

God does answer our prayers!”

A little girl prays

for God to heal her momma

from all-pervasive

Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer,

asks God to reverse

the death sentence….

what is the answer for that

little girl?

Prodigal

The Father waits

watches

longs for

His youngest son

who ripped his Father’s heart out

and shared it with the prostitutes,

who ran far and wild,

stumbled home at last

broken and still

not knowing His Father’s heart;

thinking to beg a dry spot

in the barn.

That son now stands

clothed

and whole

fed

forgiven

restored

be-ringed

and listens to the music

start to play.

But the Father still waits for

another son.

One who ranges far and wild

in his bitterness,

who shreds his Father’s heart

and tills it under

in the ground,

sowing rage

in his faithful care

of his father’s soil.

That son,

who walks in darkness

hates

HATES

his foolish sorry brother

his foolish loving Father–

where is fairness?

where is justice?

where is right?

where is payment earned?

That son walks darkly

while his brother learns to dance.

That son,

even blinder than a fool,

stands outside

in the courtyard darkness

grinds his teeth

to the beat of the music,

wishes that lost brother

had stayed lost

stayed dead.

Still, the Father waits.

-for me.

I love the restless wind in

the leaves,

the dappled sunlight

the hum of oversized bumblebees

the distant rumble

of Sunday afternoon traffic

the warm, slow thought

that I don’t need to go out again

to do any busy thing.

Justice

I don’t know what justice is

what it looks like today

I don’t know how justice fits

into God’s Big Story.

Somehow

somewhen

the tune got changed

after millenia of songs

about justice

mercy

compassion,

blessing the WHOLE world

with the blessings

which we have received.

The Way narrowed

into a small faith

that slides easily into a wallet

to be used

as an ID

at the door of the

Members-Only club.

After echoing across

the sweep of centuries

the call of Justice

became suspect

subordinated to the

items on a list,

a magic incantation,

the do’s and don’t that

circle

tightly about me.

Am I looking for something

that isn’t there?

Why does the Story seem

to take such a

hard right turn?

Will I live?

Will I live

arms wide open,

life wide open?

or

more cautiously

retentively,

guarding

conserving

moderating

saving up enough of me

to get by in a famine

Can I trust

the One Who holds

famine

and plenty

in His great hand?

His great fingers

sifting,

sifting,

sifting

all things

as they come to me.

I want my life

to reflect

all that God

has purposed for me

from before earth’s foundation.

I want to leak Jesus

with each little trickle

gradually becoming

a river of Him

gushing out of me

flooding my life

sweeping those around me

off their feet

into His

foaming

cleansing

LIFE.

Let it be, Lord.

Let it be.

My friend is dying

but I can’t

say good-bye.

She rails

and flails

demanding,

insisting

in strident terrified tones

that

she is the exception,

the miracle

and God is not true

if He doesn’t heal

here and (especially)

now.

But Jesus is

the Great Physician

and if He chooses

not to slay the cancer

but lets the cancer

slay my friend

then

I cling to the hope

that it must be

that we were made

for a bigger canvas

than

just this life

on earth.

Flittering

fluttering

frittering

who can say

where the time has gone?

sometimes

i feel so lost

and fearful

that I shall become

loster.