No one expected the golden calf

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I can imagine

Moses headed down the mountain

Head filled with expectations

Of how I was going to be

 

In his hands, treasures

The words of God

A vision of life together

 

Where the people

Freed by God,

Led by God

Sustained by God

 

Loving God, And each other

 

And are at peace with themselves

Violence free

Fearless

Content

 

But that is not what he found

Instead, he found a people

Worshipping

That which could not free, lead,

Sustain

 

Something dead

Robbing them of life

And community

 

A bad coping mechanism, a cheap replacement

A faux savior

With nothing to offer

But falsehood

 

A costly god

Who robbed them of more than gold

 

He did not want to be a prophet

He did not want to

See what he saw

 

He did not want to be placed in a position

To reveal

Correct

 

But he had no choice

Those dancing around the golden calf

Were lost

Doomed

If he did not speak

 

The tables crashed and cracked

The dust rose from the dried earth

 

The golden calf

Was toppled, burned, crushed

Dust to dust

a bitter draught

 

it was a painful lesson

a hard stop

 

in the end?

they woke up, repented

And started over again

 

But the journey was longer and harder

And more painful

 

Consequences

 

I do not want to be a prophet

I have the dream of being a part of a people 

Freed by God,

Led by God

Sustained by God

 

Of a people loving God

And each other

 

At peace with themselves

Violence free

Fearless

Content

 

Instead, I stand

With little more than the scriptures in my hand

With that dream of a people

Who are poor in spirit, merciful, and kind,

Ready to be blessed and be a blessing

 

Instead, I see a  people

Worshipping things other

Than GodIs, GodWithUs, GodInUs

watching them make idols

out of power, wealth

and yes people

 

I see a people unable to trust

unable to wait

trying to make it happen - without god

 

using human power

human strategies

human cruelty

 

so here I stand

knowing that what is happening leads only

to stagnation, and death

bleached bones

in the desert

 

the cheap replacements

the faux saviors have nothing to offer

they are costly idols that rob

us all of our humanity

 

I cannot be silent

I must speak

It might work, it might not

They might listen, they might not

 

They may cast me away

And continue their dance

But still

I must speak

 

I do not want to be a prophet

It seems I may not have a choice

In the matter

At

All