I am a wanderer. I would say that I am a seeker, but sometimes I have no idea what I might be seeking, so I will stick with wanderer. This blog is more a public journal than anything. I don't claim to have life figured out. I simply stumble from mystery to mystery, and share my reflections along the way. Sometimes I feel burdened, and trudge. Sometimes? Well sometimes grace breaks through, and its time to dance.
Saturday, December 29, 2018
all things break...
“Do not be dismayed
by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all things can be mended.
Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally,
extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light
that is you.”
L.R.
Knost
____________________________________________________-
I am dismayed by
the brokenness of the world
It makes my heart
hurt
It makes my soul
stagger
All the lies
The greed
The hate
All the children,
shot, abused, and cage
All the gloating
rich
All the
struggling poor
I am dismayed too
by children’ whose hearts don’t work right
And mothers who
fear for them
I am crushed as I
hear the stories of young women
Abused,
diminished, profoundly wounded by
Mothers, fathers,
brothers, step-fathers, significant others
It is all too
much Lord
All this sin (for
lack of a better word)
And then I
remember a baby born
Into poverty
Into oppression
Into a world
where babies died
And babies were
killed
Into a world of
haves and have nots
A world where the
people of privilege
Oppressed and
minimized those who struggled
I remember a baby
Born in the hay
and the dust
Surrounded by
losers
God’s statement
It is never over
All things can be
mended
All people can be
healed
But not with
power
Not with wealth
That is the way
of the Herods and the Trumps
The way of the
Ryans and McConnells
And so many more
(Democrat and Republican)
Nope!
This takes love
Love
intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally given
Love was born at
Christmas
Love was the
flame that shone in the darkness
So it was
So it is
Only Jesus, when
he comes
Is not born in a
manger
He is born in the
manure and grit of our own hearts
And when he is
born
He changes
everything
When the sacred
wakes up
When our hearts
wake up
Things get mended
That
That
Is the miracle of
Christmas
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