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Introduction

How do we incarnate the body of Christ in this new frontier, this increasing wilderness? What do the roots of Christianity, of the apostles first forays into the world have to say for the church today? These are the questions that drive me. How are we to be the church in a culture that has forgotten the ways of Christ?

The call of the church today is to abandon its fortresses and to become nomads, following the breath of God as he fills the world with life; to pursue the shadow of an unrelenting and unceasing God that is passionately reclaiming what is his. I want to understand how he spoke through his first apostles as he called together and formed the body of believers in the upper room with his holy fire. I want to inhabit the words and minds of the ancient theologians and mystics that sought God above all else. Through all of this though I want to gain an understanding on how to inspire, lead, and bring others along on the narrow path, to one day see the new heavens and the new earth in all their glory, and to see the face of my savior and embrace his feet in awe.

This journey is both intimately personal, and at the same time impossible without being in community with other believers and unbelievers alike. For truly as the gospel states we all have sinned, and fallen short of God’s glory, but praise be the cross is sufficient for all who embrace it’s story.

-David

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Entries in Poetry (5)

Tuesday
19Jan2010

The Beetle

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Bitter the herb of the garden grew, entwined in vines and
press'd against the dark earth it gathered neither light or dew.
A beetle, perchance, wandered by, and in it's leaves built a nest
an abode of mud and skeleton grass shrouded from the naked eye.
Finer engineering had never been wrought, of beetles he was a Wright.
In that spot of darkness beauty was made out of what we think not.
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Saturday
18Apr2009

The Waiting

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Gray rolls in like waves bringing dreams,
May I sit?  To spend some time asleep
Way over here by the window, adrift.

So we slumber in the warm mirky shores,
Going over the hidden hills and streams.
Flowing through time like floating boards.

Waiting for the time when our physicality is
Fatefully replaced by fantasy.  The actual is
Sated and soothed with a balm for reality.

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Tuesday
01Apr2008

Tonight We Fly

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jazz spinning and diving

swallow-like and and dare-devil-ike

holding itself in the air

floating breezily and breathy

 

twisting and turning

roller coaster and barn roaster

it burns like summer sun

intensely and painfully cool

 

eat the smell of it

listen for a sip of it

fire in your belly for it

passionately long for it

 

I love jazz

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Wednesday
19Dec2007

To the Ends

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v86

I stepped onto a plain

The light was hard and burnt my head

Salt flat living

The mountains were far and distant

 

Every direction was the same

No distinct path could be ascribed

Every crack moaned softly in the wind

How had I gotten here

 

In the distance a voice rang out

"Make Way!" it shouted

loud and strong it proclaimed

"Make Way, a new highway is here!"

 

As I watched a cloud of dust

rose like burnt incense into the air

A multitude came behind

"Make Way!, For the highway of holiness is here!"

 

As the rabble encroached

I began to weep

longing to be part of the procession

Wanting the peace of direction

 

The celebrant stopped

His neck was bleeding

And behind him a Man bore a great weight

Through the desert he drew a line

 

The man with the great weight

Looked into my blurry eyes

"I am lost!" I shouted

"You don't have to be" A kind word

 

My tears dried and I stood

Taking position I followed

In our wake we left an oasis

Rebel and rabble through the desert

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Thursday
04Oct2007

Change

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They wonder where it went? The road so clearly bent and written across the land, Sandy banks overtook it and made it foreign. No longer could you see the caravan trails of old, Sweeping out across the well worn paths of kings. Things of silk and inscense were no longer of value A new commodity in the market stalls lined the streets. The world had moved on.

But fortresses remained, Bastions of oldness, upholders of the good days. Rays of sunlight seldom penetrated through Rose colored windows, coloring with blood. Within the hallowed walls stood the faithful, Holding onto dusty crowns and worn sashes. Storehouses of linens that could no longer Withstand the brilliance of the sun.

Faith told them to hold back the tides But it was fear that had called their bluff. 'How can we influence what we can't define, Refine and put into a box?' they asked. But it was too late, the sands had spoken. A new voice was heard in the wilderness. Wild, passionate, and new in tone. The stones were praising God!

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