Prayer in response to Psalm 1

Psalm 1:
Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water
which yields fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgement
not sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.

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Excuse us if we seem unmoved, today, by your word

But we’ve been taught to be

both/and people

and never either/or.

We can’t help but find ourselves

Wary of duality

Skeptical of polarities

Suspicious of dichotomies

Because our world rebuts such simplicity

We’ve seen the power “the right” use against “the wrong”

We’ve discovered lifelong friends among mortal enemies

We’ve explored the tumultuous landscape of our own hearts.

So we resign ourselves to ambiguity,

We feel at home with relativity,

we guard ourselves against extremity.

We choose to be somewhere in between;

a people constrained to shades of gray.

Until you,

who have suffered the power “the right” use against “the wrong”

who have chosen eternal friends among mortal enemies

who have cherished the tumultuous landscape of every heart

re-educate us, re-enlighten us, re-create us with your definiteness:

Either you are Holy or you are not

Either you are Life or you are not

Either you are The Way or you are not

By grace and to our own advantage,

we confess that you are.

Amen.

The beginning of prayer

somewhere;
I think that my lungs are being filled

and that is not so bad
when pain is hope

(which I hope it is)

I understand that you must do this
and that you know I do not want it.

I wanted a drink.

Just a drink.

But you would make me a fish before cooling my throat.





An Honest Question

How long
should one wait
after sinning
to pray?

Save your theology,
I tremble at the thought.


Home for the Night

We are what no one else sees.
Our cluttered home,
piqued by evening light
and vacant shoes (still warm),
summons our imagined selves
to the fringes of our conscience
and casts visions of immaculate
hotel rooms where we once made love.
Tonight, her laps around the coffee table
are enough to quell our suspicion
of our own laziness and we remain
as we are -
we call this love,
as we were taught to call it,
and I am inclined to the accuracy
of our instruction
even as we fall regretfully asleep.


Campfire

At last
the murmuring ash
is silent
but I do not hear it cease
or mourn a wide-eyed blindness
because I am already asleep,
somewhere in a dream
in which I just shivered.