Friday, January 26, 2018

why are you terrified?

Do you not yet have faith?

For those who love God more than their sin,
said someone wise,
the day of judgement is not to be feared,
but hoped for.
On that day, we will finally (with great relief)
see ourselves as we are.
Grander and brighter,
glorious and shining,
smudgier than we can picture,
and brighter than we even dare dream.

Eating ice cream on the harbor walk at Tiberias,
the lake slash sea of Galilee is remarkably calm.
Remembering its warmth
highlights "in high relief"
the chilliness of my bones.

This morning,
as I was building castles-in-the-air
(it's such cheap real estate!)
counting chickens before
I'd even found some eggs
a couraging thread of continuity
appeared, a knowledge:
this will always be my life:

trying to
live a life that's less shameful than the day before
says Mary Karr, as I knead bread,
sweet dough pliable underneath the heel of my hand
which moves with surety approaching instinct.
As I move the dough in time
to these silky womens' voices,
I shift through the fruits of each day,
examining each stalk and fruit and chaff,
examen-ing my actions and questioning:
was that kind?
Am I living truth in love?
Where was God in that?
Learning to love God more than my sin.

The place may be Tiberias, hot afternoon sun baking the basalt,
it may be New York, running through the smudgy crowds of people
it may be South Bend, finding adventure in the heartland
the healing heat of kneading bread under the heel of my hand,
It may be the middle of a fierce storm in that windy lake,
in the midst of which I cry:
oh ye of little faith

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