Category: Poetry

Why I’m Going to Stop “Comfortable Prayers” and Complacency in My Faith

I had a dream. One of those dreams that was so insightful that I willed myself to try to drop rocks in the waters of my haze to remember something concrete for when I awoke. As I held the hard porcelain mug of strong black coffee the next morning, and blinked the fuzziness from my vision, I tried to pull up any tangible memory of what I had dreamt the night before. Just one smooth stone of thought emerged, just one line from a poem by J.R.R Tolkien from The Lord or The RIngs: “Not all who wander are lost.”

The words swam through my head all that day and into the next night. Tossing and turning as I pondered an unanswered question, I finally felt compelled to get out of bed at 4:30 the next morning, to look up the verse that Paul spoke on “Mar’s Hill” (I’m a pastor’s wife, but I had to google where this was in the Bible, because I HAD NO CLUE.)

Here is a portion of what I read from Acts 17, where Paul is speaking to the people of Athens, who had many gods, and many, many altars to gods in their cities:
“Men of Athens! I see that in every way you are very religious. For as I walked around and looked carefully at your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. Now what you worship as something unknown I am going to proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands (…) because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else. (…) God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us.” Acts 18:22-28

I know God. I know the touch of His presence. And yet, reading this I felt struck. How often do I keep him in the confines of the temples built by hands? How often do I not seek, or reach, or find him, but settle for the lukewarm knowledge that he is just there. I think God is challenging me to wander, to search, and pray, to reach with flexed fingers, and kneel on tired knees. Because if this God I believe in, and know, is all that I imagine him to be, then I want to spend my days searching for more of who He is, so that I can figure out who I am, in Him. Amen? Amen.

Did I mention that right before writing this I found a sign above my writing desk (I’m at an AirBnB in Chicago) it said: Never Stop Exploring.

TO AN UNKNOWN GOD
Wandering, waiting,
Listening, slowing,
“Be still and know,”
But knowledge is fading.

Altars and idols,
Something to satisfy,
Anything that fills,
Our hungering belly.

Flesh that itches,
Wandering minds,
Nothing that fixes,
Only confines.

But God in flesh,
Without an agenda,
Mercy unleashed,
Perfect surrender.

Dwelling in me,
Not God unknown,
Compelled to speak,
of THE GOD that I KNOW.
by Lindsay Hausch

Oh Baby- This is Us

You know all my secrets baby,
The truths that I hold in,
Thanks for keeping quiet baby,
For holding tight my hand.

You know all my crazy baby,
The thoughts behind my smile,
Thanks for knowing the real me baby,
For loving my twisted mind.

You know all my stories baby,
The fire that’s brought us here,
Thanks for guarding the door baby,
For keeping God’s truth always near.

You know me all the way baby,
The whole twisted lovely mess,
Thanks for staying and laughing baby,
For reminding me we’re blessed.

When You Love

 

Fickle child don’t pout,
Your birthday candles are puffed
and tucked back in their box,
But look at the twinkling lights
He’s hung for you in the sky,

Your castle made of blocks
may reach high and then fall down,
But you are His temple,

Your sweet head may swirl with fears, doubts, and a gajillion “what if’s”,
But your heart is
safely tucked inside His heart

Your balloon floats out of sight.
But He is everywhere,
At the end of the rainbow,
On the tip of your tongue,
In your dreams, 

When you love,
When you’re brave,
and especially
When you feel all alone.

 

 

 

 

Home isn’t A Destination

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At the edge of now; Searching for not yet

What is; What is to come,

Warm brushstrokes of hope bleeding into the dark sea of unknown,

Plans harpooned; Disquieted and motionless

As stillness ripples across the white caps of uncertainty

Fingers of light touching things submerged,

The meeting place of lungs and gills,

Anticipating, trembling; Longing waiting,

Humming with hope, Holding still,

Peace in knowing; Faith in waiting,

The crossing place where the Divine teaches us,

To walk across sin’s sinking surfaces,

Holding His guiding hand home.

 

100 Honest Words

vbs moreconverse

“What do I want to be when I grow up?”

A question I’ve asked since scraped knees and greasy pony.
Sleek and polished professional the same question buzzes in my blood.
Yoga pants, messy bun cliche, kids running underfoot, the question sings like a lullaby in the early morning beneath cries and snuggles.
These days self realization looks a lot like self promotion— self devotion.
But amid the accumulation, and forward motion, stuffed emotion, I wonder if that question is an ironic statement that lingers to tease us, teasing out the loose threads of our unraveling certainty.

Who am I?

Simply Love

 

simply love 

Love is complicated,

Tangling us in knots of fear and uncertaity,
Nervous knots of joy and anticipation,
Love changes answers, challenges reason.

It is small like a dimple, it is big like a swollen belly,
Bitter like coffee, salty like tears
Sweet as syrupy pancakes.

It afflicts the strong, it comforts the weak
It breaks us, it makes us whole,
Love empowers us, changes us, humbles us.

Love is at the edge of our fingers,
 Its the next right thing, the hardest choice.

Love is brave,
Love is simple,
Love is life.

 

Just This Once

justthisonce

Just this once,

We’ll lie here nose to nose,
Until thoughts give way to dreams,
And your rhythmic purr hums like a lullaby.

Just this once,
We’ll ignore the light that peeps through the cracked curtain,
Our bodies curved in a sleepy smile,
As daytime waits for us to stretch and yawn.

Just this once,
We’ll trade our plans for thick batter and crackling eggs,
Your bare tiptoe feet pattering against the tiled floor like clumsy ballerinas,
As dirty dishes pile contentedly beside the growing stack of hot pancakes.

Just this once,
We’ll wear our messy hair and crumpled pajamas,
Dressed perfectly for the warm glow of dusk,

As day succumbs to night for another lazy slumber,
When long days pass quickly through tiny childlike fingers.

Just this once,
You’ll be this small,
So we’ll treasure these small moments,
before they slip away.

Love In The Details

feet

Mommy where was I when God made the world?
You were a promise in the stars.
Mommy where was I when you were a girl?
You were my imaginary friend.

Mommy where was I when you married daddy?
You were the blush in my cheeks and the dimple in daddy’s smile.
Mommy where was I before I was born?
You were the flutter in my tummy.

Mommy when I grow up where will I be?
You will be God’s answer to someone’s prayer.
The best friend with a box of tissues and good chocolate.
You will be the pink cheeked bride,
and the Mommy wrapping her hands around a growing belly.

Mommy where will you be?
A hand to hold; an ear to listen.
The point of your chin, the curve of your brow,
Bedtime stories, eskimo kisses,
“I love you mores”, And flowers dressed as dandelions.

Mommy we’ll always be together?
In all the ways that matter.