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| Am I really so simple
So simple as to only love in those two cheap ways
To touch, to say-when what I really want is to communicate
Tugging the back of a skirt, not saying a word
On the opposite side of the floor with a toe on your ankle
But when you joke or yell I run away
I just want to communicate
My idea and ideals are pouring out
I'm saying it all day, crying it all night
But you don't hear it, and I don't seem to believe it
I just want to communicate
Am I so simple
As to love in those two cheap ways
When to me the cost is too much to pay
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| I want you to have grace and peace.
Leather on my feet and cashmere on my back
Alone for a second, just a fleeting moment
Why the anticipation, disconcerted for the lack of attention
Or motion, an intervention of sounds and images to distract
From a world that is hurting
Warm cotton on my legs and my ass keep me safe
From authorities that take and take and take and take
Exploiting not only workers but the pawnish consumers
Who eat until the open sore of depravity is so very stuffed
That it can't move to illicit sensation
"You can't be alone" I won't deny it
But if company ensures a distracted diversion from redemption
Then frankly scarlet, I don't give a
Damn loneliness has no place in my heart
Then why does it gnaw and scratch
The bloodflow is coming back to a dead limb that
Had been asleep for 20 years 2 decades of
Fears forgetting the whole "OverallThroughallInall" Thing
So I'm stomping on the ground trying to shake off the needles and feel
The capillaries filling with Love Indescribable and Immeasurable and Incorruptible
NOW to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we
Ask or
Think
According to the
POWER
at work within us, to Him be the glory in the church (His body, my body, the arrogant american body, the not so needy african body, the enormous asian body, the poor, the oppressed, that guy you hate, and that girl who's lonely) and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever.
Amen.
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| I'm longing for redemption this Christmas. For grace, for love, for joy.
The response to the gospel is not cynicism. But I also don't think the response to the gospel looks anything like the corporate American Christmas. Christ's name is everywhere. It seems as though a longing for Christ is nowhere.
I was amazed to see a dead, sex saturated culture when I came home from school. Not surprised, but amazed. Mainly because there is a big tv in the center of our house through which streams a barrage of sex and materialism.
It simply makes me sad. It drives me to rearrange decorations and yell in the mall. It drives me to eat exorbitant amounts of anything containing chocolate and/or caffeine. It drives me to post on this thing.
But in reality it drives me to nothing. I hate in Christmas what I see in myself. My own heart reflects Christmas in the U.S.
So.....I'm longing for redemption: Christ's redemption of all of these things He has seen in us from the very beginning. Yet He still loves us. He still wants us for His own. I can hope for you and for myself that the radical transformational nature of the gospel of Christ will change cynicism to love and materialism to sacrifice. Can anyone give me a hearty amen?
...and can anyone agree that Santa is a works based religion intent on polarizing Christmas to distract us from Christ? You know, a fat jolly old man in a farwaway place that watches everything we do and rewards us with good things if we follow the social norms of behavior? Nobody wants a lump of coal right?
Nothing could be further from the Truth!!! AGGGHHHH.
Stop lying to your kids. And I'm not a Scrooge for saying that.
Christ's love conquers all of this. Don't settle for less.
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| what is it
when every sound or song makes it ache
when every word points backs to your mistake
when no more words will come
to articulate
the details of what deeds were done
are repeated, to anyone
sadness turns numb and the numb gets sadder
funny how that works
to empty out all of the debris to someone who understands
and chastises because of past happenstance
to know that the words that I rely on have failed me yet
the pain comes around realizing that
they mean nothing to her due to fearful hesitation
and now all the petty conversation
leaves me inarticulate
when my words are few
the grace and love and sing and wonder
start pouring through
but only when i'm prostrate can i feel the ground
and when everyone's around
laying on the couch hoping for a loving word
I know that i've built myself in to a corner
with cheap grace that even I can't afford
if you ever read or hear this know
that all my talking is just a coping mechanism
that betrays my vain asceticism
and i'm sorry
can i try for you to be inarticulate?
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| Frankly, I don't want to tell you what I'm thinking about. | | |
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