at hand
as near as your hand
hugging you as closely as
flesh and skin hug bone

at hand
your hand
that sometimes weak and trembling creature
does God's work on earth

or not

repent
change your mind
change your heart
change your ways
change the movement of your hands

feeding
washing
welcoming
caressing
holding
letting go 

it can be as simple as that

the kingdom can be now
the kingdom can be you


------------------------------ 

the whole world is before me
on color TV
and now (new and improved) the
world
wide
web

press the buttons and pretend to have
a new experience
without moving from my chair

music plays
colors blur
people emote

watch the rescues
watch the bombs
watch the planets

go by

where am I?
where is my life?
where are my loves?

Just a minute...
I'll look for them
at the next commercial break

out of the temple

At least they were 
in the temple.
It could have been worse.

I go days without
remembering God.
Weeks, sometimes, without
slowing down enough
to really feel
the slow, throbbing
presence
of the sacred
in my life.

God has to send
brass bands
(or incurable diseases?)
to get my attention.

If Christ came to me,
he'd be pointing the other way.

He who does what is true comes to the light

What is true?

When I was 12,
a teacher asked me
to write a list
of everything of which
I was sure.

I couldn't come up with anything.

I sometimes feel
I haven't learned much
since then.

But wait.

Breathe.
There, in the stillness,
in the quiet,
I find I know a bit.

These dark thoughts that plague me,
that spit their tales of
uselessness and hopelessness and pity

are not the truth

Love is true.
And love, regardless of
a crippled shell around it,
is always useful
and always full of hope.

Living in love
will bring me to the light.

if it dies, it bears much fruit

Y'know what?
I don't wanna hear this one.
I want it all to be about light and joy.

But it's not.
It's about loss.
And about death.

OK, well plants
I'll give you plants.
I've gardened.
I know about compost
enriching the soil.

But not me or mine.
We're gonna live forever
and look young while we do it.

That's where I am
most days.
Even while the body
that is also me
struggles to rise from the chair.

And my view of the physical
is a mirror of the rest:
I hold on to everything with
tight-fisted grip.
Don't make me give it up.
I've got it now and it's mine forever.

But it's not.
How much better to
celebrate what's here,
let it slip away,
mourn it as we must,
and make room for new life.

Blessed is he

So before we hunker down to
the awful business
of crucifixion
they throw him a party

what's with this?
it disturbs the dramatic flow.
it confuses me.
One week they're cheering,
days later he's dead.

What's the lesson here?
Fame is fickle?

I like more depth in my Bible.

He has risen.

Here it is!
We can breathe again.
I know the story came out
the same way last year,
but don't you entertain
the least bit of doubt
on Maundy Thursday?

Doesn't a dark dread
creep into the corners
of your soul when
you hear the rooster crow
as Peter did?

Maybe this time
the women will anoint the body and
the disciples will go
back to their nets
filled with a sense of
paradise lost.

They try.
But the Good News
of Emmanuel--God With Us--
cannot be buried.

It comes to them,
undeniable,
and will not let them
go back to life as it was.

repent
change your mind
change your heart
change your ways
change the movement of your lives

And they did.

And each year
we tell the story
to challenge ourselves
to do the same.

the kingdom is now
the kingdom is you