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!
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Thursday, July 10, 2014
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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