The Present State
The nations plot and rage The world goes grinding on Many caught in her cogs Continually disarranged The turmoil triumphs The plague it plunges all Here we fall We are the fall O’ the hell we’ve made! The world is groaning I reciprocate her pain O’ maranatha!
The Subversive Nature of True Art
True beauty and art subvert the lie whispered in the Garden that roars in cacophonous echo today: “You shall be like gods!”
We walk the path that was blazed by our forebears; we autonomously seek for meaning in ourselves. Yet, periodically we stand before a sunset or Mozart or some other masterpiece and our autonomous walk is halted and we know, we intimately know, and even bask in the fact that we are not god and our good is not in autonomy, it is outside of us. We need. We need God.
Suffering and Christian Ministry
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there — that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
It’s how did you fight — and why?And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only how did you die?(“How Did You Die?” by Edmund Vance Cooke)
Christian ministry whether pastoral or other is in large part about suffering. We follow the Lord. We deny ourselves. We die. Yet, it is in this way that gates of hell do not prevail against us. It is in this way that the gospel goes forth and prevails. It is in this way, the way of the cross, that we glorify our crucified Messiah and Lord. It is this long painful faithful suffering in the same direction that brings the reward.
And guys we’ll soon be dead, we do this, we labor to the point of exhaustion, we run on, not for an earthly wreath but a heavenly one. We run for the prize. We fight and suffer for the cause, because there is a cause, and it is great.
Look to the reward! Look to the reward! It is great. And go on. Fight the fight of faith. Your labor, though great and beyond your ability, is not in vain. And the God that holds the stars in orbit holds your hand.
Keep the reality of the resurrection before you. Keep Revelation 21 close by. Praise Jesus for drinking down to the dregs the cup of wrath and ask that you would continue to suffer faithfully. Brothers, here we have no home. We’re looking for the one to come.
O’ God, help us. We are weak and weary. We need need You.
Dispossessed
Deconstruction,
interruption of joy
This the plane on which we play
We search for joy
yet buy into a ploy
(that retards our chase)
Oh this race,
we’re broken
Rocked and writhing from the Fall
We crawl into the grave,
disarranged
We buy into the lie
and then we sell it
We run, and run, and run
and fall into the pit we dug
We raze shalom
and raise Sheol
We damn the good
and embrace Gehenna
We are surely dispossessed,
East of Eden
Shalom is Slain
O’ for the worlds that lay asunder,
for the shalom that is slain.
We ingrain habits of unrest,
we fester and pass on spoil.
O’ for the earth to break,
for all to be made anew.
For the habits in my heart to pour out,
and for living waters to ensue.
God this world is broken,
we are altogether damaged and damned.
“Destroy the destroyers of the earth,”
destroy what in me destroys.
Shalom was slain
but through the slain Messiah (is/will be) renewed.
O’ God, Maranatha!
The Life for our life
damp, dark, cold, and silent
enveloped in a shroud in the earth
the Life lay lifeless
the only thing that truly is,
is not?
the Life lay lifeless?
the Immortal Infinite slain?
damp, dark, cold, and silent
from life’s surmise
but from a different gaze
outside of life’s maze
Life lay not lifeless
but death is now dead
defeated!
in violence He brought victory!
enveloped in mystery
the great God of history
was slain, for you, for me
the foil was sprang
it brought Him great pain
our sin is the hand that bore it
yet He took our blame
to purchase our name
He bore the frame of our cross
through vile, the victory
in wrote woe, to wonder
Slave.
Addiction, the affliction we embrace. Drowning in more, yet never full, we consume the poison.
Freedom from the substance, freedom from the porn, is what we yearn, yet ever embrace our shackles.
Numbing ecstasy, this misery. Bound by this high, damaged by this drink.
Party or prison, this prism through which we peer.
Addiction, this affliction, for which we ever yearn. We burn, burn out, and repeat the syndrome.
No end in sight, all is night, an endless cycle down.
Yes, dirt and sand is all this land, as we thirst for peace and joy. An empty well is where we dwell, no thirst is quenched below.
But as I gaze upon Your grave, where for me You bled, my shackles brake and to You take rest from all this hell. Slave to sin, never again; You my Master alone.
Yet why do I embrace this noose that holds me?
Lord, why do I run to a whore when I know all she has in store for me is death?
I see the light, the joy, and close my eyes, and turn away.
Why don’t I stay?
I run to the slaughter but You’ve prepared a feast. I slit my wrist, when for me You bled.
O’ the misery that is me, when I turn away.
Why don’t I stay?
You quench my thirst, all else is empty wells.
Why swallow up this gravel, when You have abounding streams?
O’ the misery that is me, apart from You.
in X 