Glory and Generosity are Synonyms

The man with the tweed sports-coat, and the irresistibly lovable quips told me that You are a vacuum. He was charming. He was funny. He is more intelligent than I am. But He knows nothing of You. You, he claims, have commanded all glory to Yourself. Therefore, He says, you are a vacuum. You, he says, are a needy individual, desperate for my love, attention, and approval. He knows nothing of You. He knows nothing of good. He doesn't know that the You are good. He couldn't know, because he doesn't know You. He doesn't know that it is not by compulsion that the audience shouts, "ENCORE! ENCORE!" And He doesn't know that, even as they do it willingly, they weren't duped. He doesn't know that every moment of his favorite poem is given to its climax, the very part he loves it for. And he doesn't blame the climax for claiming the significance of each or every one of these moments.

A vacuum cannot give, but You can. A vacuum takes my life and eats it. You ate my death and gave me life. You are the infinite giver. All glory is Yours. All joy is ours. In Christ, and by the Spirit, ENCORE AND AMEN!

Jesus Wears the Crown (John 6:15)

Oh crooked eyes, why can't you see straight?

The sign is not the end.

Oh crooked hand, why won't you do right?

The shadow is not the man.

Oh failing power and bent desire,

Why is it that you think,

That you can take the one who is,

And fashion Him your king?

O, little man, you had one thing right,

He is certainly a king.

O, little subject, you were right,

He is certainly your king.

But, little man and little heart,

This king is not like man,

That you could crown his head and then,

Submit him to your plan.

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Sin is my dead heart,
And the blood it pushes and pulls.
And it is the dirt that won't produce,
And flesh rotting off of bone,
Becoming dirt that won't produce.
And it is the foul taste in my mouth,
Which I love.
It is that I would take a sign,
And make it a Signified.

Grace is a fatal blow,
And a defibrillative infusion of death into death,
And of bleeding valves onto softening stones.
Grace is the gravel path become fertile ground,
And it is the seeds that fall on the fertile ground,
And on the gravel path.
And it is the Lion with a sword,
And the Lamb who took the sword,
As it swung swiftly toward my betraying neck,
And landed fully on His.
And it is the sweet taste in my mouth,
Which I love.
It is that You would when I would not,
And it is that now, I would.

God Spoke

Chapter One:

God spoke, "Good."

Chapter Two:

The serpent spoke, "Twisted truth: lies."

My brother spoke, "Bad. Deluded. Broken."

Chapter Three:

God spoke, "Curse. Death. Promise. Blood."

Creation spoke, "Groan. Where are God's sons?"

Chapter Four:

All but one spoke, "Shit."

The outcast spoke, "I will obey."

Chapter Five:

God spoke, "Sorrow. Judgement. Flood. Promise."

Chapter Six:

My brothers spoke, "Independence."

God spoke, "No. Confusion."

My brothers spoke, "Aye. Oui. Ne. Ja. What?"

Chapter Seven:

God spoke, "Promise. You are a word. I will make you a sentence."

My father spoke, "Believe. How?"

My mother laughed.

Chapter Eight:

My brothers spoke, "Evil."

God spoke, "Good."

Chapter Nine:

Pharaoh spoke, "Death."

God spoke, "Curse."

Pharaoh spoke, "Be free. Nevermind."

God spoke, "Death. Salvation. Dry land. Glory."

Chapter Ten:

My brothers forgot.

God spoke, "Law. Shadows."

Chapter Eleven:

God stepped onto the page. His role? My eldest brother.

My younger brothers spoke, "Evil."

God spoke to Himself, "Curse. Death. Thy will be done. It is finished."

Chapter Twelve:

God did not talk to Himself, my eldest brother, for three days.

Chapter Thirteen.

God spoke to Himself, "Life! Good! Promise fulfilled!"

Final Chapter:

God spoke, "Better."