Awe Over Calling

Mountains made, molded, and mossed,

And tickled by stream and scurry of squirrels.

Waterfalls dripping o’er rock face embossed

With lichen lush laden in billowing swirls

Of midst and splendor.

Glaciers that crack as slowly they’re sliding

And traveling down the valleys to sea.

They beckon me come and rest, still abiding,

While standing in awe of Your sheer majesty.

Yet You still called me. 

I love all the ways You have called me to share

And am shocked by the clarity of time and place

And yet none of this is as good to compare

To the awe that I want to have of Your grace. 

Without awe, my calling is fading and lost

In ideas and plans, schedules and days.

I begin to see darkly, like windows with frost

But I want to delight, to rejoice, and to praise. 

Help me, like when I am hiking Rainier,

To keep my eyes upward and trained on Your grace.

Give me faith to obey You and ears to hear

More important than doing is viewing Your face

And all of Your splendor. 

For My Neighbor

May I with mind and heart and hand

Seek good for others as I toil

While knowing all that God has planned

Heaps value on the human soul.

He once bestowed upon His own

The dignity of bearing grace–

The image of the God enthroned

On every man and woman placed.

Within creation, He ordained

A generosity as norm.

But in a self-exalting strain,

We fell to greed, our thoughts deformed.

Instead of work for others’ good

And for His glory and our joy

Of being with Him like we could

We found our thoughts on work destroyed.

For generations treating work

As though a part of Adam’s curse.

We self-inflicted; others hurt

While work became a sign of worth.

The other side of this divide

Between what we and God had made

Spread vast the tide of greed-based lies

That work ethic could be repaid. 

Through prosperity gospel’s call

That says Your favor manifests

To those who truly give their all,

That those with weak faith fail the test.

In yet another failed attempt

To twist our minds about good deeds, 

We think ourselves from rest exempt, 

That we’re the answer to earth’s needs. 

Adjustment, please.

May I with mind and heart and hand

Seek good for others as I toil.

While knowing all that God has planned

Heaps value on the human soul.

May I submit to works of grace

And time spend near He Who creates. 

"And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” (Colossians 3:17) 

“Let all that you do be done in love.” 1 Corinthians 16:14

“Choose those employments that have the greatest benefit to thy neighbor.”-- Martin Luther

White-Washed Leaders

Every Southern-born girl

(whose family reunions included collards, catfish, and cobblers)

carries the secrets of good fried chicken in her gizzard.

The wizardry requires egg whites 

(and only egg whites)

to gain crisp bites

and approval from a crowd. 

Include the yolks and you might be deemed

city folk

or at least a youngin.’

Tongue-in-cheek ‘perfection’

Of soft batter and sad hearts. 

Smiling at the sizzle

I find my mind tickled by thoughts

of leadership and knowledge

of leadership and wisdom. 

While knowledge can puff up from 

Within,

Wisdom that perfects is found

Without.

The secret of fried chicken lies

in the absence of the fatty yolk.

In the knowing that

excess fat

will not allow for the oil’s 

crisp and crackle.

How often have we met a leader

whose inner fat

of self-righteous information

resisted and ruined,

 leaving a bad taste and sad hearts.

We must start to find a new way.

No longer must leaders lead

because they know it all within–

Egg-washed in yolky sin

Of arrogance. 

No. 

Instead we must follow those bathed in whites-washed wonder

who seek all the riches of His anointing oil

from without

not doubting that the sufficiency is from Him. 

He makes us a Christ-like fragrance, 

The radiance of His glory,

Leaving good news and glad hearts. 

Active Waiting

 Rolling the bulbs between my palms
        as I hum Psalm 40.
I marvel at their seeming weightlessness,
        wondering what blooms are wound within
            waiting with their Maker. 

He Who calmed the chaos and called
        the corollary creation "good"
            keeps secrets spun, 
                nourished by sun and rain and time
                    inside their papery tunics. 

While often appearing that their maturing 
        will never come. 
They wait with anticipation for the seasons set
        by the One Who causes the sun 

            to rise and warm their bed.

He said, 
        "Actively wait.
Anticipate but establish your roots in the time between.
Incline to Me,

        encountering Me already inclined

            to your candid cries." 

Nestling the papery globes in the ground,
        I wrestle with my will's way of seeking control,  
            wanting to know
                and skip the the growing in grace
                    as if harvest is an overnight occurrence. 

Trying to greedily grasp Your place 
        of knowing the end from the beginning. 
Must I always be pursuing 
        or can I rest in being pursued,
            yielding to the pace of Your choosing? 
Grace upon grace. 

Like ranunculus roots curling through fertile soil
        let me coil and interlace my will to Yours,
              finding satisfaction for a wanting soul
                  no matter Your provisions. 

"I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry...I delight to do Your will, O my God; Your law is within my heart." (Psalm 40:1, 8)

"See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient." (James 5:7b-8a)