Shaking a fist at God

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I aspire to faith

I aspire to confidence

 

I do not want to join the throng that says

There is no God

 

But there are times when my aspiration turns into

Resignation

Perhaps despair

 

There are mornings when I wake up soul-hungry

Wanting nothing more than to curl up

Fetal

 

Wanting nothing more than to raise my fists

And scream at God

 

The disappointment and anger

Hot

Boiling over

 

At the lies, the manipulations

The injustice

At the torrent of evil that flows from people

 

People who, if I am honest, I see as evil

Who, if I am honest, I hate

 

(is it wrong to hate evil?)

 

I rage not because I don’t think God is there

I rage because I believe there is a God willing to be raged at

 

A God who seems to have failed

The poor

The immigrant

The children, buried in rubble in Gaza, and Lebanon, and Iran

The victims of greed and hate

 

I guess it is better to raise my voice to the heavens

Then to sit in stolid silence

Frigid and silent

In the face of evil

 

Better to believe there is a God who cares

Who can heal and reconcile

Who can make them better

Who can make me better

Even if at times that God seems silent.

 

I cannot accept the God of MAGA

The God of the Evangelicals

Who have turned the good news into bad news

 

“God loves me and hates you” is not good news

 

I cannot accept the God who guides missiles to kill children

And destroys civilizations

 

Whose fault is it

That God seems so hidden and distant?

Some would say it is all my fault

I haven’t “surrendered.”

I am too proud

I have too little faith

 

Perhaps

I will not let go of God

But neither will I let go of my questions

I will not allow shallow, unsatisfying answers

To be my opiate

 

So here I sit

Refusing to accept what is happening

Seeking a God I often cannot find

Shaking my fist at heaven, not because I do not believe,  but because I do

Gentleness requires courage

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Violent emotions are not sustainable long-term sources of energy for the struggle. True gentleness is not an absence of anger, but a transformation of anger from the impulse to harm into an unconquerable will to protect and endure.

 

Gentleness is not the willingness to ignore abuse, but a powerful balance that prevents us from being involuntarily triggered and drawn off course. Gentleness is anger brought completely in harness to our highest values. When we are truly gentle, our power cannot be triggered by fate, nor manipulated by others.

 

Gentleness requires more courage than does violence and demands constant training as intense as that for any battle. Gentleness is not a hiding place from life, but a fortress of peace lying beyond the reach of any indignity from fate or foe. To be truly gentle does not mean to leave the struggle for a better world. Gentleness is the art of living in the eye of life’s storms. True gentleness simply means to be in full possession of our own hearts.

                     Jim Rigby

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They simmer and fester

Deep in the soul

 

The anger, dare I say hate?

Those emotions that are both violent and lead to violence.

 

There is energy there

Fire

And the pressure builds

Until we act out, our emotions making our choices

rather than our brains

 

We are in the territory of demons

What else can we call them

These malign thoughts

This foul presence

 

The feelings are not unfounded.

The greed is real

So are the abuses of power, and the lies

The harm is real

People are oppressed, and freedom is stolen

Children are killed

 

People in power do evil things,

And do not care (do you?)

 

How can we not be mad!  How can we not respond with every fiber of our being?

How can we not resist, violently, angrily!

 

And yet we live in the shadow of the cross

Or perhaps, on this day, the firing squad

 

And the words of Jesus echo:

Forgive them

Today you will be with me in paradise

Mother, behold your son

Behold your mother

 

On that day, in the midst of the pain and brutality

The injustice

There was peace

A peace that was beyond understanding

 

There was gentleness

 

Just as violence emerges from hate

So gentleness emerges from peace,

 

And peace

Comes because the Lord is near (Philippians)

 

It is peace that guards our hearts and our minds

Peace that makes us

Healers

And the carriers of hope

 

There are too many days when I am not peace-filled

Too many days when my soil is roiled

Too many days when what oozes from my soul are not

The fruits of the Spirit

But the produce of the Flesh

 

I don’t want to be like that

I don’t want to be tossed around by the winds of hate

I don’t want to be manipulated by the likes of Donald Trump

 

I want to be gentle, kind, forgiving

A healer

 

I know I cannot ignore evil.

I cannot step back into silent places of safety

But I can be controlled by love

I can let Jesus have possession of my heart

 

And I can be a safe place

In the midst of the storm

 

And that, that

Is what I want to be

 

Haters will Hate

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“I should be happy, but instead I feel nothing. I feel a lot of nothing these days. I've cried a few times, but mostly I'm empty, as if whatever makes me feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving me hollowed out like a shell.”

          Jennifer Niven,

 

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

When shall I come and behold the face of God?

My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually,

“Where is your God?” 

          Palm 42

 

Happy are the pushers, for they get on in the world

Happy are the hard-boiled, for they never let life hurt them

Happy are those who complain, for they get their own way in the end

Happy are the blasé, for they never worry about their sin

Happy are the knowledgeable, for they know their way around

Happy are the troublemakers, for they make people take notice of them

          J.B. Phillips

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I am tired

Physically, it can be a challenge

To drag this almost 75-year-old body out of bed

 

Everything hurts, and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work.

 

Mentally, I’m tired

The complexities of life, which once were fun to juggle

Now seem to crash down upon me

 

Spiritually, I am exhausted

 

Exhausted

 

In the “Dead Poets Society,” the teacher tells his students

Don’t use “avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired; he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose.

 

OK then, I am exhausted and morose.

 

It is debilitating

The spiritual BS that flows like a stream of foul water

From Erica Kirk and Franklin Graham

From Paula White and JD Vance

 

And sometimes, I suspect, from me too

Me too

 

Because I am exhausted and perplexed

And I do not always handle it well

Too often, too often, Lord, I become what I abhor and protest

 

Impatient, angry, strident, empty, and confused

 

But I am tired of the Gospel that is not Gospel

The good news that is truly bad

 

I am tired of the Christian nation that violates Christ

I am tired of those who have doubled down on arrogance rather than humility

Power rather than servanthood

Lies rather than the truth

Violence and killing rather than peacemaking and healing

Hate rather than love

 

I would love to feel as if my soul is watered by flowing streams

But instead, I am soaked

By salty tears

 

I do not know how to move out of my perplexity

Out of my sense that everything is going wrong

And there is nothing I can do.

 

But perhaps perplexity is the point.

Yes, there is nothing I can do

But is there something the Sacred can do?

 

Sometimes I doubt it.

I have every reason to doubt.

Trump is president.  Netanyahu rages uncontrolled.

 

My head and heart tell me to quit

To hide

To be silent

 

Why bother?

 

Why?

Because

 

God

 

Because of the sunrise over the mountain

The smile of a child

The random act of kindness

 

God lives

Love lives

Goodness Lives

 

Call it what you will

(if you can’t call it God, call it something else)

 

But there is something

Dancing in the morning sunlight

 

Something lingering in my soul

That changes my Lament (at least from time to time)

To praise

 

I am not naïve

Haters will hate

Innocents will still die

Bad people will still flourish

Good-hearted people will still be led astray

By liars

 

But I do believe

Even in the midst of my unbelief

That hate will never be

 

The end of the story

 

I believe

That someday, the Kingdom will come

And it is my job

Every day, every single day

 

To live as though it were already here.