Spirituality – Page 9

I love that you can stare at me all day long.
I love that you can make rights out of my every wrong.
And I’m left using both hands to gesture my excitement
When I talk about the day my heart began to syncopate for the very first time.

That day.
Oh that day.

It was quiet.
Quiet like those moments seven seconds after putting the third kid to sleep and you’ve found just enough time in the evening to hear that drumbeat in your heart hit quarter notes…you’re so excited…because you know it’s going to get noisy again in the morning.
It was peaceful that day.
Peaceful like a ballon escaping from its bunch and finding solace in the open skies above Disneyland.
But you’re careful because you know Tinker Belle is six seconds away from commanding the sleeping giants to wake up from their slumber and ignite the horizon.

Ok…maybe not so peaceful, but just for a moment…that day.

The day you harmonized with the glee club of birds causing swells in the ocean so big that land began to matter.
The day the stars twinkled for the first time, which I’m beginning to think was the day your eyes bashfully lit up when you looked at me for the first time, slowly nodding your head with approval.

Yeah I’m that guy.

That guy.

The guy who stood in awe as you articulated the heavenlys into endless haikus and you masterfully juggled the night into day and cross faded them once again, juggling the night into day on the vinyls of eternity.
I’m that guy who drools at the mere thought of you causing the sun to slip into a circadian rhythm that rapidly moves my eyes back and forth in bewilderment because of your majestic beauty.
I’m that guy who freezes up with nervousness when I mesmerizingly gaze at your reflection dancing underneath the spotlight of the moon.
And soon the sun wakes up again and you breathe that much more heavier.

You.

You love me unconditionally and you joyfully serenade me even when I’m not paying attention.
Your peace can patiently rope me back in when I’m not listening.
Your kindness is better than charity and your goodness is humbling.
But it’s your faithfulness that gently reminds me of your self-control to love me no matter what.

Your spirit is so fruitful that I can sink my teeth into them and juices would gush out just as they originally did in the Garden.
And even though time has gone on, I remember it like it was yesterday.

With dirt in your hands, you whispered sweet everythings into the cool of day and the syncopations of my heartbeats pulsates a little more fancier, so much so that break dancers left holes in the middle of their linoleums.
You…you looked at the vast of your creation and knew Michaelangelo would even be jealous.
Leonardo couldn’t even code this.
And Banksy’s epigrams lose their satirical whim next to your magnificence.
You spray mists of excellence onto the ally walls of eternity and flare sparkle effects on the eyes of Jupiter.
Your compliments sweeten the Milky Way.
And your humor causes chuckles so energetic that astroids collide into each other there so distracted.

You look down once more as grains slip through your hands and you gather back as much as you can…and blow.

And, as you soak in the splendor of your masterpiece, all you could say is, “It is very good.”

The events post the Ferguson decision have been very debilitating for me. Not because I’m a black man dealing with, yet again, another situation where the “system” has mangled the mouths of expression and has shone its true face of oppression in the facade of freedom. And not because I’m a white police officer caught in a somewhat no win situation where the result of trying to choose to do the right thing in the midst of high emotion and adrenaline always ends up not being the right thing. Nor is it because I am saddened at social media’s ability to give people one word jabs at each other, thus challenging the idea of having decent and respectable conversations with one another.

Although, these have a lot to do with how I’ve been feeling.

If there’s one thing, especially from where I stand as a pastor, that the events leading up to and resulting from the grand jury’s decision in Ferguson reminds us of about the church in America, specifically, it’s we’ve remained unacceptably quiet on issues such as these.

Sure, we’ll preach a sermon on reaching our neighbor and use the Good Samaritan as our example. Or, we’ll teach about embracing the sinner of all sinners in our society by referencing the Woman Caught in the Act of Adultery. And, we’ll even rally our church folks on a mission to immerse ourselves in other cultures by pointing to the very One who moved into the neighborhood, leaving His divineness, to walk among us.

But, unfortunately, as quick as the call to embrace others begins, it painfully ends the moment benediction is given and service is dismissed.

Am I angry? Yes.

Am I pointing the fingers at others, while not assessing my own actions and believing I have everything altogether? Absolutely not.

The church at large, including the church that I lead, has a lot of work to do when it comes to restoration, reconciliation and redemption between cultures. And when I say culture, I mean the wide array of cultures that make up our dwelling places. From race to socioeconomic and from religion to gender, these are all cultures that comprise who we are as a society. The three “Rs” I referenced earlier are common catchphrases within church speak, but it truly seems that the practice of such is far from evident. Over the past few decades, the church has built itself up on fantastic services focused on production, as well as, transforming the church to becoming people’s “third place”, that we have forgotten how to engage people where they’re at. It’s almost as if creating an alternative spiritual coffee shop within the confines of our churches or planting popular burger joints on our campuses is the solution.

We expect, nearly demand, people to “come”, yet we’re unwilling to “go”.

Yes, Jesus’ first call to His disciples was to “come” and follow. But Jesus’ final words to His friends were to go into the world to make disciples and preach the gospel. And, in doing so, the natural result would be redemption, reconciliation and restoration between cultures and, ultimately, to the Father.

I truly believe that a step in the right direction would be to heed the words of James when, in his letter, says, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”

Black. White. Gay. Straight. Homeless. Privileged. Muslim. Buddhist. Perpetual Liar. Addict. Orphaned. Widowed. Elderly. Youth. Everyone deserves the right to be heard. And the church needs to do a better job at listening, while responding with compassion and love.

It’s not a fix all, but it definitely is a start.

Church…get off of your butts and engage the hurting world around us. It’s time to truly “go” and love others as Christ loves the church.

Category: Spirituality

Breathe – New Poem in Progress

The Church’s Silence is Downright Deafening