She just wants a home without gunfire. She just wants a home without force. She just wants a home without war at the door. She just wants a home without war beneath the roof…
Grant to her justice, O God. Grant to her justice with the speed of the unjust judge. Grant to her justice, O God, for she waits.
A poem/prayer based on Luke 18:1-8, the Revised Common Lectionary Second reading for Year C, Proper 24.
The image is a section of a 19th century composition “The Parable of the Unjust Judge” found in the Palace of Facets, Moscow. Public Domain.
I feel no guilt, Redeemer, that I took You at Your word, and took myself to see the priests, to show Your manifested grace. You spoke. I did. We did. Except for one.
I feel no guilt, Redeemer, that I ran to show the priests the signs that would redeem me to my home, my family, my life. You spoke. I ran. We ran. Except for one.
I feel no guilt, Redeemer, that I chose to follow what You said entirely to the letter. Go. And show. And return home. You spoke. I went. We went. Except for one.
I feel no guilt, Redeemer, for my acts, but in my heart burns my regret I missed the approbation of Your loving smile. I went. I missed. We missed… except for one.
A poem/prayer based on Luke 17:11-19, the Revised Common Lectionary Second reading for Year C, Proper 23.
At one time or another, or many times, in fact, the ones who serve as pastors cry, beset with too much evidence of human triviality,
“Oh, get yourself a real problem!”
And then, we gaze upon the weary brow, the face so thinned by illness that we didn’t recognize the sufferer, and pray, with all our heart, for triviality.
Should I not be like the experienced apostle, offering encouragement to the uncertain youth? Should I not be the one to bless the faithfulness that they received from mother and from grandmother, to summon them to bear the shame and cost?
Should I not be the one to suffer for the gospel as a herald, teacher, and apostle, bearing up despite the shame of disregard, dismissal, and distress? Should I not be the one to offer truth in sound and faithful speech to one and all?
Yet after thirty years, eleven months, and four and twenty days since hands were laid upon me, prayers proclaimed, and I was raised, now set apart, a minister of Christ, my heart still skips a beat to think that God has given power, love, self-discipline…
To me.
A poem/prayer based on 2 Timothy 1:1-14, the Revised Common Lectionary Second reading for Year C, Proper 22.
Photo by Mohamed Rasheed Ahmed, used by permission.
I saw a photo once, a photo of three children. One grinned a happy grin. One wore the neutral look of child before a camera. One’s eyes gazed into my soul.
I saw a photo once, a photo of three children, “And these,” the speaker said, “are children who will be homeless.” Their island home is flanked by rising seas.
I saw a photo once, a photo of three children, and that picture should have been enough, the smile, the uncertainty, the soulful gaze should have stopped us cold.
I saw a photo once, a photo of three children, children whose homes will vanish due to greed, to others’ comfort, and to lies. Their truth overwhelmed in a wave of falsehood.
I saw a photo once, a photo of three children, and I heard the voice of Jesus ask, “How is it that the children of this age are shrewder than the children of the light?”
“I see this photo, too, this photo of three children, and I ask you, people, will you guard the wealth of some and wreck the homes of many? Are you less shrewd than these deceivers?”
I saw a photo once, a photo of three children, children who will lose their homes to lies. And I said to Jesus, “Yes. I am less shrewd.” And wept.
A poem/prayer based on Luke 16:1-13, the Revised Common Lectionary Gospel reading for Year C, Proper 20.
The photo by Mohamed Rasheed Amed was shared by 350.org on their Flickr site under the Creative Commons license BY-NC-SA/2.0.
