Poems of Doubtful Hope

No more guilt or shame or pain Once I see him face to face. I'll no longer merely know but see and feel What it's like to be covered by his grace.  I'll find myself free in a wide-open space Beyond the suffering and weight of this place Finally able to move at my own unhurried pace Once I see him face to face.  Depression and anxiety will have to flee Once I'm standing before his throne.  The feelings of loneliness will fade away. I'll know I've never been alone.  All this time I should have known There was a place to call home Away from the empty, desolate places I roam To be found before his throne.  The crowds, they shouted "Crucify!" On the day he gave us his all.  The men who would follow "even unto death" Abandoned him and their holy call.  They watched their savior fall  Their backs against the wall As humanity dropped the collective ball On the day he gave us his all.  But death couldn't stop the risen Christ When he rolled the st...

Sometimes when I read the stories in the Bible I find myself wondering about the implications. If the Israelites had to wander Until all the previous generation died off, Does that mean at year 39 of 40 There was one recalcitrant Jew left Who'd wander by his own decades-old footprints While he felt the weight Of the glaring hatred of an entire nation? What was it like for the last Philistine Who just heard about David circumcising One hundred and ninety nine of his friends? Did Lot ever go back and see the pillar of salt That used to be his wife? Did it still look like her, or was it just salt? I stop and think about how long a week really is-- Thomas spent a week wondering if Jesus hated him And that's why he missed the risen Lord. Job's friends spent a week in silence sitting by his side Waiting for him to be ready to pour out his anguish. Noah spent weeks on end, a week at a time, In a smelly ark watching for a single dove on the horizon. It wouldn't have taken long ...

I've heard the old, old story Of how a Savior came from glory. Of how he died on Calvary To save a wretch like me. I've heard about the pain and blood And a cleansing crimson flood I've repented of a thousand sins With no lasting victory. I've heard of how he healed them; The broken, lost, and wounded. Miracles performed and captives Freed on bended knee. I believe in all his goodness And that he still is able to do this But struggle to believe these things When they're applied to me. I believe he loved me ere I knew him. I readily confess that all my love is due him. So why can I not seem to find This peace in victory?

Arise, O heart within my chest Dead for years in peaceless rest. Clear the cobwebs from out thy soul— Come into the light and be made whole. The song of Hope will always ring Even if you forget how to sing. Prepare yourself to take up arms Against a host of endless harms That bleed you dry, prick by prick, Lacking the mercy to end it quick. The battle comes against a foe Inside your head who brings you low. Fire against fire makes perfect sense As the tool of whelming recompense. But it is no balm to soothe nor can it heal, So we beat our swords into plowshares as the war cries peal. The enemy is roaring like a lion to devour. Who would show weakness at this crucial hour? Compassion has never been frail or weak. You hail the conquerors, I say bless the meek. Find the strength to be gentle, the courage to forgive: Give up your brave death and learn how to live. Wake up dead man from the cold, dark earth. Be kind and gracious; learn what it's worth.

Am I just lazy? Finally going crazy? Broken beyond repair? Too jaded to care? I've spent decades caring About anyone and everyone, sharing All the excess flowing out of my cup. Now the flame has used up All the wax in my jar And the hope that was close seems hopelessly far Removed from me and my daily grind. Apathy is the only constant I find. I've spent years learning about burnout; I know all the warning signs. But I've never found the answer for what you're supposed to do When who you are seems to be killing you. How do I heal the burnout and still care? What do I do in the meantime while every day's a slog? Are the pieces of my broken compassion Enough to reflect your light? Or will they blame you for the weakness in me?

I'm sick of all these fucking feelings. Bored to death with myself Even as I compose the next line. I'm trying to purge the things inside That are poisoning me as I hold on, Hoping to be able To turn the tables On whatever boogeyman lurks in my soul. I'm trying but getting older While my heart is growing colder Is there a way out of this snake pit? Or at least a way to change where I don't have to quit.

A milquetoast day, No clouds to sweep away, But the air's still not sweet. Maybe you can tell me how to get To someplace like Sesame Street? Butterfly in the air, But I've hung up my wings and I wouldn't dare To climb so high, up in the sky, So instead I wallow. Can I go anywhere? I'm looking for something more But still I'm unsure. Can I do anything? Look deep inside but still I hide From who I could be. I remember beautiful days in this neighborhood, Ways I could (and I still should) Try to be kind Open my mind And try to be a neighbor. And the words are still there The knowledge remains But the roadmap is covered in blotchy stains And I can't remember how We get there now: I wish I still trusted my neighbors.