What I do when work is slow

I.

Golden specks aloft

Float on the air, in the light

A beautiful dance

II.

A rainbow slithers

Side to side, blue tail shimmers

On four legs it goes

III.

I push the button

White sheet come one by one

It jams. Annoying

By the Sea

I amble down to the edge of the water. My long sleeved shirt is just enough to keep away the cold from the air that blow loose hairs around my face. My companion races ahead of me. His hungry yips brake the stillness, and I pause as the black fluff comes back to nip my ankles. “I don’t have food for you,” my voice an unwelcome disturbance against the lapping waves. We reach the lake, and he plops down, ignoring the broken food dispenser. My eyes sweep over the rippling mirror. Small waves rush up the sand and slide back to the sea. The stars begin to hide. Orange and pink start to streak the purple-blue sky. A yellow arch peeks over a hill. My thoughts dance through the pages of the Bible. These waters were not always so placid.

Storms overcome those who follow Christ’s voice and step onto the water. I sank in the fear that washed over me when human strength was weak and faith began to waiver. A wall of icy water crashed against my head with a surgery gone awry. A fatal car crash, a weight I couldn’t shake dragged me down to the bottom. I tried to cling to something solid, but it crumbled with a rejection, and the opportunity slipped through my fingers. I bumped against the goodbye I couldn’t say, a barrier between me and the sky.

Something warm and rough grabbed my hand. I clung to the carpenter’s calloused fingers. He lifted me up. I breathed again. Relief was sweet in my lungs. Beneath his feet, the waves became a peaceful pathway. He walked easily, though I slumped against him, and I knew he carried the weight of two. Hands lifted me back aboard. I relaxed against the hewn wood sides of the boat of my former life. It looked the same, but I am not. I have been through the storm; I am changed. I cannot stay here. My Lord’s voice calls from the waves. I must step out again.

A short bark crashes through my thoughts and douses me with reality. The golden orb has overcome her shyness and climbed above the hilltops. I tear my eyes away from Tiberius and peel off my extra layer. “I suppose it’s time for breakfast.” I give voice to dog’s morning reverie.

Web

Web

It glistens in the porch light 

Her masterpiece

Gossamer threads intertwine

A pattern stretching three feet wide

It sparkles with dew

And glimmers as he leaves

We duck

So not to disturb her artwork

We pause for a while

Admiring

Discussing

Enjoying a moment of friendship

Saint and Sinner

I wrote this hymn this afternoon (31 July - I've been using the schedule feature on blogger so you'll be reading this in the future) as a reflection on our dual nature as saints and sinners. It's a hard subject to tackle in prose, let alone hymnity. I don't like the first line; it doesn't capture the depravity of man. While the rest of the hymn does a better job of emphasizing that any good in our lives comes from God, the first line on its own leaves room for the idea that humanity has some innate goodness. What do you think? How theologically sound should hymns be? Any suggestion for an alternative first line?

Tune "Christ Be My Leader" Lutheran Service Book 861

Two natures in me, one good and one dark
What God had made perfect is breaking His heart
Death had claim ov'r us, our goodness was gone
God sent forth Jesus, bought us back with His Son

I have done nothing to gain my new life
Christ did it all, He was the sacrifice
Everything good that I have is from Him
Without His guidance I do nothing but sin

Christ is within me and that is by grace
He came to save us, the whole human race
We're clothed in his righteousness; He set us free
Now we can join Him in eternity.

I passed by

I passed by

I saw her once,

Outside my door,

Digging through trash

For recyclables to sell

To make ends meet.

But I was stressed,

My work permit woes

Clouding my attention

From what is truly important

I saw him once

On the road to church

Sitting on the rock

On the side of the road

His earthly possessions

Bundled under the cardboard

My heart hurt

But I was on the bus

What could I do?

It’s not like I could have stopped

My excuses mirror the Levite’s and the Priest’s

Is there a Samaritan wondering the streets of Ha Noi?

I will never know.

 

It wasn’t me. 

Her Gift was Greater

A couple weeks ago I attended a Faith and Writing Workshop at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. Our first writing exercise was to dabble in (what I assume was greatly simplified) midrash, a sort of filling in gaps in the Biblical narrative. Here's my first attempt at what I hope becomes a regular writing exercise.

Her Gift was Greater

It had been nineteen years since her husband had died, and thirteen since the death of her only son. She sighed as she slowly maneuvered her way our of bed, trying to move her body in a way that didn't ache. She had arisen early since she planned to walk to the temple today, and as she had gotten older, the walk had gradually gotten longer and longer as what had been a one hour walk with her husband and new born son forty years ago, now stretched before her as an arduous and painful five hour plod.
She slowly eased around her house, finding her clothes more by feel than by sight. She felt her stomach growling and shuffled over to the table for breakfast. She felt around the table, the wood bare underneath her fingers. In the fogginess of her memory the thought of last night's dinner surfaced. The end of her small loaf of bread.  She sighed again, taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, blinking back tears. She knew that meant a trip to the baker, another three hours of waling added to her day.
Where had she put her money, she wondered, trying to recall where she had placed the small reddish-brown clay pot she into which she put her meager number of coins. She finally spotted a small blurry object sitting next to her bed and remembered depositing two small mites into it three days before. "Only two?" Her mind fumbled with the realization. "That's only enough to buy a tiny morsel of bread, and I still have to give an offering at the temple."
She slowly lowered herself onto the bed, trying to decide what to do. Suddenly she saw in her mind a clear picture of her husband talking to their son. "Always put the LORD first, son, and the LORD will take care of you," he would say before scooping him up and swinging him around as they left their home for the temple. She brushed away the tears as she sorted through her emotions, pushing away feelings of loneliness and gathering strength from the faith her husband had always displayed. She dumped the two, tiny coins into her bag and began her long journey to the temple.

Mark 12:41-44, Luke 21:1-4

On Missouri's Constitutional Amendment 2

MO Constitutional Amendment 2: A Rant or In Which I Climb on my Soapbox and Vent about Yesterday's Elections 

I am perturbed by the recent passing of Amendment 2 to the Missouri State Constitution and the misrepresentation present in the ballot language. The way the ballot read suggested that the voter is only voting to protect a Missourian’s right to pray (a redundant proposal even if that was the only thing the amendment did. That right is covered in Amendment 1 of the United States Constitution and can’t be undermined at a state level). When one reads the full text of the Amendment which was not available at the polls, it becomes clear that the amendment goes far beyond protecting prayer.

Buried in the middle of the text of this amendment is the provision “that no student shall be compelled to perform or participate in academic assignments or educational presentations that violate his or her religious beliefs.” This has ramifications far beyond what lawmakers and supporters of the amendment seem to have foreseen (though Rob Stitt of Lee’s Summit MO understands and describes in his letter to the Lee’s Summit Tribune’s editor). The ballot may have said that lawmakers “estimated this proposal will result in little or no costs or savings for state and local governmental entities,” but they don’t seem to have factor in the cost schools begin to sort through questions created by this amendment. I will list a few that came to my mind this morning.

1.      How does one define a religious belief? How will teachers determine what is a valid religious belief, and what is a clever child trying to avoid an assignment they don’t want to do?

2.      Are parochial schools bound by this amendment? I would assume yes, which I find amusing, since according to the article by Chris Blank, AP run in the News Tribune the MO bishops urged Catholics to vote for it. This amendment will essentially give non-Catholics attending Catholic schools in Missouri a free pass from homework in religion classes.

3.      To what level of schooling does this amendment apply? Will a Creationist desiring a degree in biology be excused from any course work applying to evolution? Will someone who believes the world is only 6,000 years old be allowed to graduate with no knowledge about carbon dating?

Finally, “protecting” students from things they don’t agree with will be detrimental to the development of their critical thinking skills. Preventing them from learning about how other people think won’t make their faith stronger; it will make it weaker. They won’t learn how to defend their ideas against those who disagree with them, nor will they learn to appreciate differing opinions. Shielding students from other beliefs will make it harder for them to develop into open-minded, tolerant, and well-educated individuals. This amendment does them a gross disservice.