Sin (again)

Jacob wrestles the Angel

I guess I reveal my Church of Christ roots (where the liturgical calendar was not part of my year) when I wait till after Lent to spend time struggling with sin. But, like Jacob-com-Israel, my wrestling is more often determined by encounters that don’t follow a calendar.

Here are the rules of the game for me right now: I have to be as honest as I can be. I have to speak the questions that haunt my soul, even if it seems totally wrong to ask them. Only an honest encounter invites the Spirit. The Spirit can take it and, until I am honest, I am not really in the encounter at all. Continue reading

Struggling with Sin

statue of martyr pierced by arrows


When I am honest with myself, I struggle with sin.

There are, of course, the daily slights and stumbles; the things I regret, or kick myself for at the end of the day; the first world sins of breaking my diet or going a few miles over the speed limit. Those pester me, but they are really not my struggle.

Continue reading

Missing the Mark


If sin is missing the mark,
And I am human
Isn’t missing the mark inevitable?

So, how is that my fault?


What if I’ve missed the point
As well as the mark?
What if it is not so much about avoiding sin
As learning from it?

Adjusting my aim
Strengthening my arm
Trying to actually see the target
Amid all the distractions.

Of course, I can still
Shoot myself in the foot.
Not trying is not allowed either –
Else it turns from sin to something else

This can’t be an excuse
Or I’ve missed it, again
And more …

Life as a caterpillar is hard
When you are really born to fly
And the crysallis of this life
Binds too sadly tight for complacency.

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[photo P9194059 by Ian MacDonald per cc 2.0]

This Day

happy blanketThis day, this day is yours
thank you.

Gather it up in your arms
and me along with it
cuddle us together in your love
fill us all with the fragrance of your Spirit
let it dust our days and tickle our souls
and whisper in our hearts
today, this day,
as you unfold it, is yours, is ours. Continue reading

April Fool

IMG_1468“So then, lets go.”  The traveler is beside me.  He taps his staff upon the ground. I have my staff in my hand as well, and my pack upon my back.  So we strike out together, toward the wild. He is humming to himself and I am holding my heart tightly in my hand, hoping and hoping not to fear.

We walk for quite a while. We are down the hill into the bramble.  The call is before me and the traveler is striding quickly and I am doing all I can just to keep up. Continue reading

A Snail’s Eye View

snailI am a snail, oozing my way along a garden path,
The shell on my back gives me quick retreat
My vision is limited
I understand so very little.

But I am me. What else can I be?
There is no butterfly metamorphosis for a snail.
No hope of flight. No second life.
What good am I?

Good thing snails are not very self-reflective, huh? Continue reading