God Is Not the Author of Confusion, but of Peace

In Christ no Jew nor rabble--
at Pentecost no Babble.

Pomme de Terre

The scoffer calls the apple green--
the earth unripe, too hard, too tart--
and claims that it must ever be
until, like Granny Smith,
it grows too old, too rotten,
and is cast into the compost heap.

For never have the wicked tasted,
seen, how gold-delicious is the Lord.
Never have they heard the gala
that will play when yet the gard'ner
comes at harvest-time into the orchard.

How red will show the apple then--
the earth now wrapped in golden fire.
Heav'n, like teeth, will sink
into the rind:
juice, like living water, streaming forth.

I Was Shapen in Iniquity; and in Sin Did My Mother Conceive Me

The serpent may have tempted Eve,
but 'twas Eve who tempted Adam--
and Cain still murdered Abel
although God attempted tempting otherwise.
How then say, the devil made me do it?

I was shaped of the earth
that drank of Abel's blood,
mouth open to receive
blood shed of second-Abel:
blood of Christ, cup of salvation.

Be It unto Me According to Thy Word

In Jesus' words of moving mountains
we mistake the Lord
for Zion, Sinai or some local peak--
as if we could the Unmoved Mover move.

For as the heav'ns are higher than the earth
God's ways crest higher than our own.

Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord?
put behind them worldly ways
and like hind-footed Habakkuk
be made to walk upon high places?
(Zion, Sinai or some local peak)

Whither Shall I Flee from Thy Presence?

O God whose presence fills the temple,
tabernacle, tent of meeting--
how could Jonah hope to hide?
In what boat do You not have abode?
What hull is not Your hall?

We who are God's temple,
tabernacle, tent of meeting--
how also can we hope to hide?
In what chamber has He not His chambers?
What heart is not His hearth?

What depth of soul
(death in Sheol)
can escape
whale-present providence?

Nothing Is Secret, That Shall Not Be Made Manifest; Neither Any Thing Hid

O Lord, we see the dusk at dawn:
the mist curled up to cast a veil
between the eyes of God and man.
Like little children we exclaim
You can't see me! as we press
both fog and fingers 'gainst our eyes.

My God, it's only when
the dew has risen
that we see the manna--
only when Your Christ ascends
that we crave the Bread-of-Life.

O Lord my God!

creation groans--

like hunger pangs the morning after
having gorged ourselves on gluttony.

I Come unto Thee in a Thick Cloud, That the People May Hear When I Speak with Thee

Some, like Adam, walk the garden;
some, like Abraham, invoke pardon;
some, like Jacob, take a beating;
some, like Joseph, keep on dreaming;
some, like Moses, look on fire;
some, like Balaam, speak for hire;
some, like Gideon, expect signs;
some, like Samuel, watch by night;
some, like Elijah, strain through the squall;
some, like Josiah; weep at Law;
some, like Ezekiel, see strange visions;
some, like Jonah, pray in fishes;
     some, like Korah, get pulled under--
     some hear only sounding thunder.

Ye Shall Drink Indeed of My Cup; or, He Hath Made Him to Be Sin for Us

O Gracious God, You would not slay
rebellious son:
stubborn Ephraim,
sour grape
who set his children's teeth on edge
of altar raised to foreign gods.

O Gracious God, You would not slay--
but sacrificed--
obedient Son
that sons might call You Father--
the cup of wrath fermented to
salvific wine.

He Taught Them as One Having Authority, and Not as the Scribes

Prophet-God, they called you rabbi--
but who would not at open house
cry, Resignation! if the teacher claimed divinity?

Behold,
there is no sitting on the barbed-wire fence
between the pens of sheep and goats.

I Am Cast out of Thy Sight; Yet I Will Look Again Toward Thy Holy Temple

In seeking specks in neighbors' eyes
I walked the plank in mine
off the ark into the flood--
surprised I could not walk on water.

O me of little faith!
O plank between my eyes!
O get behind me, Satan!
into that dogfish Monstro's maw
there to be baptized in the
whale-tomb belly
of the fish-provided.

Lord, that your grace
may vomit me
and make me clean.

Common Grace

My friend Sajid
fasted with more humility
daily during Ramadan
than I could ever muster
during any Thirty-Hour Famine.

What irony that I've seen more jihad
in the charismatic church of my youth
than in Sajid--
or even in the Islamic meeting place
one lot over from the Arby's where I worked.

What irony that those Muslims only ever claimed
customer-only parking every Friday,
but that the church claimed my humility--
and taught me contempt for pure devotion
(albeit to a foreign god)
and pride in my self-righteousness
as I cheapened my own.

What irony
(what Gospel!)
that at the end of day
(or thirty hours)
should Jesus strike upon
our famished souls--
Sajid's by the integrity of a virtuous pagan
and mine by the Simony of self-gratification--
He would follow home the Muslim for his dinner.

Love Your Enemies; or, Happy Shall He Be, That Taketh and Dasheth Thy Little Ones Against the Stones

A Superfortress is our God
dropping bombs on ancient foe--
No! not on prince of darkness grim,
but wrestling against flesh and blood.

For whomever has not struck your cheek,
turn them the other preemptively.
Of what value are the white and blue
without the red of fallen soldiers?

As Twain's lunatic has said,
we curse our foes
in blessing troops,
so in the manner Tiny Tim
God bless us, everyone!

The Fall of Man; The Fall of Men

Crimson flushes from the cheeks
as chloroplasts from fallen leaves:
dimming eyes, thinning hair--
autumn branches laying bare.

In death and autumn, Lord, I see
Advent beauty waiting Thee.

In spring the trees will bud again
as corpses donning flesh and skin.
New-clothed limbs stretch toward the sun:
the answered prayer--Thy Kingdom come!

For two falls usher man along
from Eden into Eschaton.