Seek Her

Wisdom tires of being mocked
She tires of chasing you down twisting alleys of lies
She tires of calling and having you run instead away
Of stretching out her hand and being rebuffed
Of having her counsel ignored

Attend, lest She abandon you
And laugh at your calamity
Lest She mocks when panic strikes you
When the storm sweeps you away
When you find yourself and all you hold dear
Lost in pain and anguish.

Call upon Her now
having trampled Her word
having ignored Her histories
having spat on Her offerings
having scoffed at Her reproof
and She may not answer

She may leave you to your own devices
Twisting on a gibbet of your own design
Trapped in a cage of metal and spikes
Food for the carrion birds
A warning to others

Should you not eat the fruit of your way?
Should you not find yourself at the end of the road you have chosen?

Wisdom still calls - but you are far from Her
Her voice is faint - but can be heard

Perhaps you can return, retrace your steps
Do not listen to the loud voices around you
Hustling you onward to bad ends
Resist the pushing and jostling of those around you
You still need not be lost

You still, perhaps, can be found.
I write this for you, you yourself

Seek Her!

I am a poor steward

I am a poor steward.
I fail to go.
And when I do,
I go too slow.

I am a poor steward,
I have not done much.
I have not helped
I did not touch.

I am a poor steward,
It was not enough
I did not volunteer
When things got tough.

I am a poor steward,
I whine and moan
To help is hard
I trudge, I groan.

I play dumb games,
I waste my time,
I forget names,
I make up rhymes.

I am a poor steward,
And much I waste.
I don’t do good,
I am less ‘salt’ than ‘paste’.

I will be a poor steward,
But still I’ll go.
Please, forgive me, Lord,
That I go slow.

The House With The Broken Door

You decided against the same old thing
You turned right, instead of your usual left

And you saw a brightly lit house
Its door hanging open
A broken door – Askew, Unworkable.
Like it was no longer something that people closed
From inside the voices came
Laughing, singing, and debating

Smells rolled down to you too
Fresh-baked bread
Apple pie
Roast chicken
New wine

A smiling face appeared at the door
And a friendly body hurried down to take your arm
“Oh!” “You’re Here!” “We were so hoping you’d come today!”
And they were all there
Old friends and new
Their names and faces filled with joy
Filling you with joy
Hugging and kissing
Slapping your back
Welcoming you in

Silly, Silly, So Foolish
How long you walked that lonely road
The house had been waiting for you
The friends had been waiting for you
But no matter
The time was paid for
And the time is at hand for you to be honored

“But I did nothing!” you said…
“I went the wrong way!”
“I did the wrong things, again and again!”

No matter, no matter
On your way you did much good,
More than you could have known
And your mistakes,

See!

They have all been redeemed-
Turned about like an engine at a roundhouse
Like a lump of clay on a wheel
Like the sun breaking through the rain
Like a starfish regrowing its arms

The journey is over
And you are home
What was forgotten has been recalled
What was stolen has been restored
What was lost has been found

There was always room for you here
You were always wanted and needed
Always wanted at our table
Always present in our prayers
If it was not so, would we not have told you?
Welcome Back!
Welcome Back Home!

The Crazy Lady and the Angel

On the section of the Berlin wall located near Battery Park City

The crazy lady and the angel
Stand on the wall

The crazy lady on the outside
The safe side
The ‘go about your business’ side
She wears bright colors
Her skin is green
Her lips are brilliant red
She is lively and creative

The angel is on the inside
Where people used to get killed just for walking
For running to freedom
She is harder to see
But she is there
Who painted her, and when?
Who saw her in those days?
Was she the last thing someone saw?
Perhaps she was meant to comfort, to mourn, and not be consoled
To commemorate children, brothers and sisters, parents, friends, cousins lost

Perhaps that was her purpose
Certainly she does that now
Now that she no longer stands in the shadow of machine guns and barbed wire
Now that she is a curiosity, and a memorial

And it strikes me that life is like this
There is the wild and crazy ‘go about your business’ side
And the serious side
The side of life and death
where people struggle for life and freedom
Where angels stand close to comfort and assist us

It is good to be bright, lively and creative
But let us also be strong and helpful
And stand to help those who struggle for life and freedom

The Leather Shoes I've Had A While

The leather shoes
I've had a while

They're worn and scuffed
They're broken in
Into my shape

They're shaped like me
Perhaps too much

Sometimes I switch
what feet they're on

I wear them backwards
Now and then

Just for a bit
To feel the way

They press my feet
Differently

Somehow it is comforting
To feel them different
And unmeshed

Unmatched to my feet

It is also strange
To wear something

So broken in
And yet so mismatched

It reminds me
Of how comfortable
They are normally

It is kind of like

Seeing an old friend
Doing a new thing

Meeting something
That you know well

In a strange place
Far away

Realizing again
What you are about

When you had forgotten
Or become preoccupied

See, I have made all things new
Even the shoes on your feet

Let them remind you who you are
Remind you what you are

Let them help you remember your calling
And enter into the Kingdom of God

Peace,
LE

The Unusual Desk

In the night I pray for guidance in this interesting life I live
And I see warm brown leather
With ink drawings appearing and disappearing on it
I see the letters ‘VS’ appearing between two fragments of drawing,
And I wonder what they mean
The scene shifts and I find myself in front of a large wooden desk
In a large room that is strange to me, all done in wood of light tones
It is empty, but it feels welcoming and warm
The thought comes to me that this is like an English courtroom
But it is not much so to my eye
The desk is in the middle of the room
And there are wooden barriers like altar rails down either side
Beyond which several ranks of wooden chairs rise
Perhaps more like a room of parliament
But the dream is focused on the desk – the room is the background for the dream
The desk itself is odd
There are vertical ridges dividing it into three major sections
Making it uncomfortable to write the way I would like
With a paper at a jaunty angle
The left section is decent sized, no more than two feet wide
And the right one is very wide, over three feet wide
But the center one is narrow, too narrow for letter sized paper
To write here, you would need narrow paper
It seems that the form of what one would write here would be restricted
I opened the desk, the center section lifts and there are writing materials
A drawer as wide as the right section pulls out,
And there are disassembled bits for old ink pens,
Wooden shafts and nibs,
I start to assemble a pen and begin to look for the ink
And I wake

After 2 Timothy 2, Reprise

This is a re-run of After 2 Timothy 2 (with some formatting changes), which text is speaking to me today.

Remember Jesus in your sufferings,
and if you are chained,
remember that the word of God cannot be chained.

Endure for the sake of the world,
that the world may also obtain salvation,
for if we die with Jesus,
we will rise with Christ,
and if we endure we will also reign with him.

Jesus cannot save us while we deny him,
but he remains faithful to us,
seeking us and consoling us when we despair.

Even in our denial,
in our guilt and sin,
Jesus must remain faithful to us,
because he cannot deny himself,
and there is great hope in that.

Jesus is our redeemer,
and seeks our redemption,
so seek to return to and keep true to Jesus,
even as he keeps true to you.

Peace,
LE

Some minor blog changes - you will notice the 'Zeitgeist' of tags is now alphabetical - much more useful. Some blogs that ceased to inspire me have been removed, and I have re-resurrected my rotating 'taglines' at the top.