Stitches

Occasionally,
there are things that cut so deep
my body is in need of the healing power of stitches.

A knife slips while slicing onions,
and my watery eyes do not take note
of the quick movement
towards the taut, stretched skin of my finger.

[Shouted…] “Crap!”

Off to the healers for stiches.

Occasionally, words cut…
cut through the roughness and toughness
of my calloused exterior.
They find their way – these cutting, ripping words –
to a place deep inside
slipping inside my psyche
twisting in the depths of my soul.
A tongue slips during a time of greeting
to lodge an “observation”
about sloppiness and lack of attention
to detail.

That tongue slices through
my taunt, stretched smile
and lays bare the nerves that lie deep within.

Blood collects on my own bitten tongue

[Unspoken…] “Crap!”]

Off to the healers…for stitches.

“Thank you for offering kind words to my friend…”
“Thank you for checking on us and caring for us…”
“Thank you for sharing your story…”
“It’s nice to know we have a pastor who truly is human…”
“I love you, Daddy.”

 

©2014, Scott Sears

Inspired by www.pray-as-you-go.org and John 5:1-3, 5-16 (NRSVA)

My Home Among the Hills

wpid-PaperArtist_2014-03-24_11-00-46.jpegBased on Luke 4:24-30

Inspired by http://www.pray-as-you-go.org

Yeah, I am a child of the mountains –
a “West-By-God-Virginian.”

But why do I build my city on a hill?

Is it the place where I best see –
the danger coming
the glorious sunrise
the gathering storms
the grandest views of creation?

Or is it just the place
where even when I don’t feel safe…

I can force those who assail
my foundation
my beliefs
my worldview
to the edge of a precipice
where they can view their doom.

I build my city on a hill
but I often forget.

The cliff is not there for my enemies
or the prophets who unsettle me.
It is there for me…
to shout until the Word echoes
to step off…
to fail, to fall, and to flail.

And to find myself
in the very hand of God.

an abandoned vessel

cropped-img_2234-e1353720642505an abandoned vessel

An empty water jar bakes in the heat
in a place where people are called
“sin-filled.”
My Lord sits beside it,
tracing his finger around the rim.

I join the other followers as we come to him with our food.

Someone gave him something to eat?
Someone gave him something to drink?
Surely not.
Not here.

We are among those people.

Yet Jesus says he does not thirst.
Yet Jesus says he is full.

Why do I focus upon my definitions?

 Of hunger…
Of thirst…
Of those who are sinful…

My Lord sits by the edge of a bottomless well
tracing his finger
along the edge
of abandoned definitions.

Based upon John 4:5-42

Inspired by www.pray-as-you-go.org for March 22/23, 2014

On Lent

Stone into Bread
Yep… that would be my choice.

Me.

I want it to be all about me.
Caring for my hunger
Miracles that I desire
A place for me in the Kingdom

Forty days
Forty nights

He will rely upon God alone.
He will unveil God’s glory.
He will enter a Kingdom of servant humility.

Me?
He invites to follow… or not to follow.
Forty days – Forty nights.
Step by aching step.