a beautiful mess

come, lay your arms down

and become unarmed.

for you are a member of

the body of peace;

sent together to heal the captives

even yet to know release.

come, lay your arms bare

and become unarmed.

for who is remembered

by that which cuts and tears?

know in healing, the scattered ones

come together, live and share.

for she could never lean in to hear his heart

when we keep violent arms killing at every start

when we seek silent lovers as counterparts.

—
a series of poems written over the last five years, to be released…every so often. this is the second (find the first here).

obviously, i don’t want to deconstruct the whole poem; however, the last lines may need some attention:

“she” refers to the figurative person not yet awakened to new life in christ…struggling, i believe, to hear something not of this world – and yet we, the local church(es), wear a habit of violence and adultery: we’re practically forcing “her” attention elsewhere: we keep her at a distance with our hate and infidelity: as a people, we’re often found backstabbing each other one one side of the bed while sleeping with malice, envy, greed, lust, and lies on the other.

in the first place: who wants to reorient their life to experience that?

in the second place: how is she to find comfort at the “foot of the cross/chest of GOD” when we violently oppose much of life and have so many secret, hidden idols blocking her way to a conversation with us? whereby she may hear the heart beat of GOD – to. redeem. every. thing.

oh that we may become lovers with our arms laid down in vulnerability and worship.