Prayer from the Belly

O LORD my God, creator of heaven and earth, speak tenderly to my troubled soul ... remind me of those who've gone before and bore the burdens of care ... and remind me, as well, of those who'll be here long after I'm gone, to bear the light of hope.

Though there may well come a time, O God, when humanity has run its course, when the experiment of melding dirt and divinity will have proved, once and for all, whether it was worth it or not.

Perhaps the flood should've done it, but you still had faith in the dream ... that flesh and spirit could work ... and to give us some image of that, you sent your divine love to take up the mantle of flesh, to be incarnate, showing up in a wee little cradle in a wee little town, in an outta the way place that just happened to be an intersection of the world ... to show that it was possible, that it was necessary.

And what did we do, dear God?

We nailed it to a cross.

And we'd do again.

And we do.

We nail one another to crosses of pain and sorrow, with our hammers and nails, our privilege and power ... humanity has its ways, O God, and mostly the ways of death. We know so well how to dispatch one another, and never shed a tear, or if a tear, then one of feigned sorrow, along with our thoughts and prayers.

Yet brightness shines in brilliant moments of peace and hope.

All around the world, women and men who call out for something more than destruction and death.

Who bear in their flesh the signs of the Spirit.

I pray, O God, for those who embody the love of Christ.

Whatever the Christ may be.

Wherever the energy of spirit and bone merge into something full of life, life-giving, life-sustaining, life-generating.

In this hour of crisis, I pray.

I weep.

I fret, and I fuss.

I'm weary to the bone, and in my spirit, I tremble.

I long for something more than belly of the whale.

Silence Unholy

Silence, in the presence of God.

Silence, beneath the cross of Christ.

Silence, by a mountain stream.

Or a crashing sea.

Silence, it must be.

Silence, the assent of the inner being.

That here, words are gently taken away.

No sound to be uttered.

Perhaps a deeply indrawn breath.

An exhalation.

Joy, wonderment, bewilderment.

Silence.

But silence is another thing.

When a child is losing her life.

To the stupidity and pride of

The powerful.

Silence, when folks are denied.

The right to love.

By those who take upon themselves:

The right to decide who can love, and who can't.

Silence in the face of hate

And the suffering it causes.

The suffering of the innocent.

And who are the innocent?

But those who are borne down.

With the shackles of tradition.

The chains of history.

The whip of courts and legislatures.

Silence, when the world is turning upside down.

And lies are welcomed as truth.

And truth is denied as a lie.

And the cruel liars laugh at the death of others.

Silence, in such times, is a crime all the more.

A crime more than those who commit their crimes:

Of hatred and fear, lies and bullets.

Great wickedness wearing designer jeans.

Greater still the wickedness of silence.

The silence of one's own comfort.

The silence of our pleasant little bubbles.

Because I'm not a racist, a bigot, or mean!

I'm good, aren't I?

I care. I really do.

But care is such a pain.

Care is good for awhile, and then must be discarded.

Silence is good.

Others suffer for their own sins, not mine.

Children die, when god visits upon them.

So my silence will bury their cries.

Silence, a deadly sin.

A fever of the soul

A virus with a millions little crowns.

Hooking into the mind.

Silence, that is never holy.

Never right, never good.

Silence, that means death for others.

Such silence demands: A voice lifted up.

A voice to sing.

A voice to cry.

A voice to protest.

A voice that shatters the ice-cold silence.

A voice.

Never silent.

A voice.

From the heart of God.

Manifest Destiny

"Manifest Destiny," eh? 

The GOP has clearly lost its marbles, and though 5 senators are now begging off of the Convention, they and their colleagues have failed the nation. Whatever "protest" they're mounting, it's too late! They might have given this a little more thought when the McConnell Senate failed to affirm the impeachment-vote of the House.

The GOP IS the problem; it embraced the worst in America's story, believing that white supremacy, evangelicalism, and greed would win the day. 

But history makes clear: sooner or later, in spite of some initial success, the "values" embraced and proclaimed by the GOP rot the soul of a nation, and it doesn't make any difference whatever the nation or empire may be. 

All the cheering of the evangelicals and the hideous Epstein-Money Gang can't prevent the collapse.

Will it get worse before the skies clear?

The GOP is crazy, just plain crazy. Within its ranks are some decent folk, no doubt, but they're as rare as hen's teeth. The truth be told, the GOP is run by a desperate cartel of greedy men and besotted women who long ago sold their souls for power.

Thank God, I say, that God's Manifest Destiny for humankind more than trumps the small and narrow versions trumped by the GOP's lost cause.

When Abel's Blood Cries Out

I have always loved to sing, "Rock of Ages," not that I can sing. For years, I'd gurgle "Rock of ages, cleft for me," and my family would run off holding their ears.

I love the hymn nonetheless.

It speaks of refuge and safety.

But as of late, a phrase has caught my attention: "Let me hide myself in thee."

Good enough, for sure.

Who does't need a hiding place now and then?

But when hiding becomes permanent, we've got a problem.

I cruise around a lot of fb pages - friends, colleagues, and friends of friends of friends ... especially ministers serving churches.

I find a lot of hiding.

As if the world didn't exist, but only sweet jesus and my happy, happy, congregation.

Covid?

BLM?

Confederate flags?

White supremacy?

Women's rights.

Voter suppression.

Not to mention Brexit, Syria, Russia, and Turkey.

Don't mention it.

Hush up.

Quiet.

Just hide.

Hide from it all.

I think of Elijah in the cave.

And finally God says: Get outta there and do your work.

And it's work, all right.

Political work - kings and such to be anointed and a successor to be mantled.

Who knows?

I'm retired, and that's a safety cleft all of its own.

But I'll express my surprise.

At just how still some are.

When Abel's blood cries out from the earth.