Continuous Journey

Continuous Journey

For Amy

“When you can't run you walk,when you can't walk you crawl,and when you can't crawl you find someone to carry you.”

I sped full speed hurtling into uncharted territory,

dangerous, enticing,

destructive. Always destructive.

Moving so fast

fueled by lust and need

till I hit the forest of confusion.

On leaden feet I slowed to a walk.

Breathing heavily, I forced my way

through matted forests of gnarled trees and tangled roots,

tripping over conscience

and morality

and desire.

Stumbling out into a wasteland of mud

too exhausted to stand,

I fell to my knees

crawling towards a dream

of satiation and satisfaction.

Beginning to know the

the truth of my need.

Till finally I collapsed

face down choking on muck

having tasted acquisition’s

inevitable despair.

Desperate for salvation,

redemption,

but unable to lift myself again.

But suddenly and clearly

your voice cut through to me,

your arms grasped me and pulled me

up into your embrace,

lifting me above the dark myre.

Carrying me to deliverance,

to rest, to blessed peace

and restoration.

I collapse limp into your arms.

Safe.

Knowing that you will carry me

till I can once again stand

repentant and secure

laying in the

the strongest arms of all.

Comprehending

Comprehending

You can taste rage.

Real, furious, trapped, caged

Rage.

There's a flavor for those screams:

Thick and sticky, dark like anise,

sharp like sauerkraut, bitter like blood.

Burnt and separated.

You can't swallow it.

Like peanut butter it sticks in your mouth, and it feels disturbingly like warm cream cheese.  

Everything about it is repulsive.

I am not talking about indignant anger,

or righteous anger,

or anger born of shame,

love, betrayal, or loss.

That scream rises from primal rage, from violation.

It explodes from total loss of control,

decimates trust,

ravages hope.

Does not satisfy.

Can never draw tears.

Offers no emotional release.

Has no conclusion.

That scream is resigned to its fate

yet railing against it fruitlessly.

It is surrounded on every side

by fear, reality, comprehension,

Desolation.

It can tear apart rocks,

rip furrows in the land,

crash waves against each other,

fell trees, lash wind,

unleash the fury of the heavens.

It must never be released.

Mark 11:23-26

So.

If I believe.

Just really believe.

I can make anything happen.

Tell me how.

How to really believe.

Lord please help me in my unbelief?

For goodness sake,

Just teach me how to really believe.

All in.

No question.

Give me the power I already have.

Show me how to have it.

I want to make mountains move,

I want to make temples fall,

I want to make huge from tiny,

I want to split the earth.

I want to lead addicts to freedom

Turn thieves to benefactors

Turn pain to pleasure

Turn loss to gain

Turn horror to heaven.

You said if I had faith as big as a mustard seed....

But your scale was time distorted.

That mustard seed grew HUGE

By the time I read that.

If you had said if only you have faith as big as a mustard tree I would have understood what you demand of me.

And I would have given up.

You ask me to forgive EVERYTHING

And come and possess your power.

But that EVERYTHING is so much bigger than the mustard tree, than a million mustard trees.

Your forgiveness is that big, I know.

Even bigger.

But mine is just that tiny seed

Waiting for your rain, your son,

To even help it grow.

Teach me how to move the mountain inside of myself, and I will grow the tree.

No.Matter.What.

No.Matter.What.

For Russ

I saw her explode out the door

screaming fury from every pore,

every hair on her head,

every limb of her body.

Frustration driving her to detonate

into unthinkable loathing

unleashed,

unchecked,

uncontained

HATRED.

She is utter destruction itself,

Consumed.

How dare you say those words to me?

You Do.Not.Know.

I saw her draped across the floor

Jesus looking down

on her desperate sobs.

Her inescapable torment,

overflowing sorrow.

The agony of years of anguish.

The weight of years of uncertainty.

The toll of years of unresolved loss.

Unbridled misery pouring out of her,

flowing from her body and mind.

Physically exhausting her

till she sleeps, finally,

there on the altar floor.

How dare you mean what you just said?

You Do.Not.Know.

I saw her holding in her hand

the very ropes she wants to be tied in.

Craving limits, despising choices,

demanding pain to blot out the memories that hold her captive.

Begging to be set free by restraint,

by helplessness,

ravaging submission,

decimated control

and flaming passion.

How dare you promise that to me?

You Do.Not.Know.

I saw her blink back incredulous tears

awash in shock and surprise

after a conversation that should have been filled with shock and surprise

but wasn't, could never be.

Revealing desires touched upon,

nothing at all next to those words,

next to the realization of them,

the certainty with which you said them.

Let loose from a place much deeper

than anything previously spoken

leaving her anger somehow broken.

How dare I reject those words I read?

Even if you Do.Not.Know.

Or Do.You?

2 Corinthians 6:10

2 corinthians 6:10

Slowly I shut the sanctuary door,

look up in wonder at your pain

and marvel at the joy in your agony.

It's quiet, and dark, and in my mind

I can hear the crowds shouting,

your mother sobbing, your friends raging,

not knowing they were waiting

just a short eternity for the tomb to open, and eternal life to come gushing out.

Thinking back, first your mother

endured the scorn of society while carrying you

and the fear of holding a God in her womb.

But running through the confusion and exhaustion and pain of pregnancy

and labor and birth was the thread of unbridled love of mother to child

and world to savior.

The soft sounds of evening in the neighborhood slowly envelop me

and I wonder how it sounded in the temple the day you started teaching,

and your parents fear of losing you so quickly, transformed into pride and happiness as they saw you begin a journey for which you were designed.

As I kneel before your table I imagine

the taste of bread and wine and friends.

Hands dipped in water, and towel shared.

Resting in this moment of pleasure

before the heartache of betrayal,

that would surely bring about eternal joy.

I hear a bird softly call

and I see Peter's face a mask of misery as the cock crowed just one more time,

and yet even in this his savior was proven true.

As I lay beneath the window I imagine

hanging on the cross beside you and realizing that my joy was in the pain, and no place on earth would I rather be

than hanging next to You.

Matthew 11:28

Matthew 11:28

It's this moment of surrender

This moment

When all you can do

All you're capable of

All you can say

Is Jesus give me rest.

It's this moment of desperation

This moment

When all you can feel

All you can give

All you can process

Is Jesus give me rest.

It's this moment of terror

This moment

When all you can imagine

All you can desire

All you can demand

Is Jesus give me rest.

It's this moment of agony

This moment

When all you can express

All you can scream

All you can beg

Is Jesus give me rest.

It's this moment of exhaustion

This moment

When all you can sob

All you can whisper

All you can breathe

Is Jesus give me rest.

It's this moment of acceptance

This moment

When all you can say

All you're capable of

All you can do

Is lay at His feet and rest.

Punishing

Punishing

Inspired by The Lonliness and The Scream 

It grips me from the inside,

the anguished scream that's been lying in wait for so long.

No where to explode to,

to escape to

to free itself.

So it detonates within me.

I am powerless against it

and it rages over me

raking me with its cruel fingernails

telling me how worthless I am,

how easy I am.

Grasping my arms in its huge calloused hands.

Black bruises rising everywhere

it grabs me.

Contorting my body

in wrenching, writhing sculptures

Squeezing, pulling, hitting, hurting

plunging, pounding, throbbing,

ripping, tearing, searing pain.

Punishing.

Punishing

Punishing

Turning off my brain.

The  whip of its viscous tongue

Pushing vile words deep into my throat

Forcing back my breath

That shrieks to be set free

Bellowing it's perverse agony.

Biting, gnawing, grasping,

tasting fury, wrath, savagery

lavishly vengeful.

Punishing

Punishing

Punishing

Did He Walk With You

Did He walk With You

Judah, so much like us

guided into disaster some how.

No control

No options

No recourse

How did you feel?

Were you certain?

Or were you screaming shame the whole way?

Was that pit of shame knotted in your stomach?

Did you turn around again and again on your journey?

Try to make your feet go the other way?

Were you thinking whether you wanted to throw away your sobriety?

Wondering why you were doing it.

Rolling that hard earned coin in your fingers.

Did you throw it away as you went, knowing already the certainty of your failure?

Were you morose with loss, before it even came?

As you turned away from your friends, mentors, guides, support,

did you agonize about how they would feel?

Wonder if they would blame themselves?

Did you have their words floating through your mind or were you ignoring them the way we all do:

thinking that it's not so bad, i can handle it.

While somewhere in the recesses of your mind you know

it isn't and you can't.

Were you torn and broken and angry?

Why should this task fall to you?

Why must you become the most hated man in christian history?

Did you wonder: why me?

Was your bread still lodged in your throat as you walked?

Unable to swallow the self loathing

and bitter hatred within you.

Were you sick along the way?

Emptying out the last vestiges of Grace,

of belonging, of certainty.

Was that small sack of ransom

sweaty in your hand?

Did it grow ever heavier as you walked?

Slipping from your fingers again and again,

re-adjusting, transferring it from hand to reluctant hand.

Did you want to take it and run?

Throw it in the ditch?

Give it to a beggar?

Return it and repent of your ways one more time?

Make it the last time?

Stand firm and let someone else bring history to its ultimate conclusion?

Did you try?

I have often wondered if God walked that road with you.

Took your hand and led you, led His Son,

to the slaughter.

Often wondered if you also were slave to Gods plan.

If you also drank of that bitter cup.

Were you also a sacrifice?

He saved you after all,

did he then leave you?

i don't think so.

Did you leave him?

i don't think so.

Perhaps He stayed with you, told you why,

asked you to carry this tiny enormous burden.

Perhaps you were never alone.

Perhaps you obeyed the command God gave,

and then He freed you of this world of misunderstanding

that would certainly have tortured you till your devastated end.

Perhaps now, outside of our flawed human understanding

you live in peace in paradise,

a martyr to the cause of saving humanity.

Loved and held by a God of Grace and mercy

Who had a plan.

Who has a plan.

For whom so many have suffered,

languished, and died.

for whom all of us can never understand.

Did you walk the same road we all walk?

Lost and found, captive and free,

hated and loved, wrong and right,

guilty and justified, dead and alive?

Did you go blindly, or did He help you see?