Blood Legacy

“If you were buried with him in the likeness of his death, surely you will be with him in the likeness of his resurrection.” Romans 6:5

Blood Legacy


They found a man reviled for his effeminate kindness,
and they beat him,
spraying his cowards blood so that it became a viscous rain,
smearing it sadistically upon their smiling faces,
painting themselves war heroes with his inferior blood.

One said, “Should we laugh?”
Another answered “Should we not take pleasure in justice?”

The weaker he became at the ferocious flurry of pummeling fists,
the more intoxicated with power they became.

A synergy of sadistic hedonism moved them,
so that their voices became a crazed, incoherent symphony
of hatred.

Shrieks of pain
and waves of laughter
rose to cacophonous crescendo
until the broken man gave up his impotent soul.

Stillness settled over the scene, for even a just killing
can create a mood of contemplative dissatisfaction.

As they shuffled back to their homes, heads hung low,
the dead man called to them in love,
having risen from the dead.

Incensed that he was still alive,
and that he would dare address them again
with patronizing compassion,
they destroyed him again,
confirming their strength.

And again he rose and called to them in love.

Their anger grew into irrational, spitting vituperations
of malice until they killed him again,
this time hacking him to pieces with swords.

And again he rose and called to them in love.

But they kept killing him, because that is all they knew,
and that is all they knew to teach to their children.
Every generation killed him,
and with increasingly evolved methods.
They made it their destiny as descendents to destroy him
once and for all.
Killing him became their legacy.

But each time he rose and called to them in love,
only to be destroyed again,
and again and again.

One bright day after generations of this rabid bloodthirstiness;
after a river of this
one man’s blood had flowed,
a child of this murderous brood
in trembling empathy embraced him,
only to be destroyed with him.

But he raised them together

and proclaimed…
“Enough of my blood has flowed.”

November, 2007

Traffic

This poem was written before we moved into a much simpler life here in Bakersfield, CA. It was inspired by an all too common occurrence in our overcrowded harried lives when we lived in the big city. The "serpent" reference is significant because the devil is described as the great deceiver.

Traffic
Hollow faces turn their passionless gaze
Toward the crowded horizon…

Long ago, a liars voice beckoned and somewhere someone responded, the
rest herded after.

Generations following this path have cut a groove into our humanity.
we all spill into it, pressing upon
each other, competing for progress toward prosperity,
all energy of resistance to the voice
dissipated.
Sheer momentum has taken over.

No one questions the migration of this mob,
each assuming his place in the endless line,
each child of the scientific age mechanically clinging to his place, only
questioning relative position and not the destination.

It does not feel the sublime, this serpentine demigod.
Its poisonous breath stifles sensation.
It assimilates individuality, expanding its mass through augmentation.
It grows while the people shrink.
It converts the autonomous into automation.

Each looks to the other only for help in their movements toward
The unnamed, unknown and unworthy goal.

No one pauses.
No one thinks.
Individuality is swallowed up
as vermin before The Serpent…

But the traffic grows.



May, 2006

En Memoriam

A common refrain at funerals is that the grieved will "live on in our memories." For an atheist, this must be the only sense in which a person can live on. But is it true? This poem suggests that if we do not live on in reality, we do not live on at all.

En Memoriam

She slips from my grasp,
her image slowly
enveloped in darkness,
distorted by distance,
fading into the fathoms
of sinking separation.

She will not live
En Memoriam.
Her vibrant individuality
will also succumb to the strength of the abyss.
All our efforts to keep her alive in mind are futile,
for her image too will be subsumed into the vanishing depths
of human forgetfulness.


March, 2007

A Vision

Here is a poem written during the days after our daughters were born 13 weeks prematurely. At the time, the question of their survival was very much an open question. I wrote this to express my personal struggle with the fragility and scarcity of the good in this dangerous world.

A Vision

Stumbling toward the empty horizon over vast
tracks of scorched and bitter earth,
I could faintly see a single rose ascending
boldly among acres of twisted thorns.

Vain ambition
and futile hope
compelled me to press through
the dense forest of cruel thorns;
to approach the solitary remains of the good.

Drawn powerfully onward by the
the irresistible call of fragile fading beauty,
that I might
with extinguishing eyes behold,
and with trembling hands embrace,
the single glory,
the single justification,
for all my sublime suffering.

Pressing on,
thorns ripping my flesh,
blood mingling with the parched earth,
so that in the instant my sinful blood met
the thirsty sand,
out sprung new, more vigorous vines,
entangling me motionless in the piercing truth.

At last, and from a distance,
imprisoned within myself,
all vain energy and vain hope
dissipated,

It was mine
merely to
catch the diluted fragrance of that solitary rose
as it wafted by on a vanishing breeze,

and then to expire.


May, 2008

God's Not Dead; A Review

Christianity is producing a gaggle of critics and very few creative people. That is not a shocking statement. After all, the same can be said of everyone else in American society.

I've heard several of my friends criticize this movie, and I suppose I see the validity of some of their points. But where are the better expressions of Christian creativity? It is not like these critics are producing alternatives. Perhaps we have to go back to Lewis or even Beethoven before we can find truly great Christian artists?

But I want to praise this movie. There is much good in it, at least as I see it. I wouldn't be enough of an expert in film making to critique it in any way that would elicit the respect of anyone, but I can say what I liked about it.

For one, I liked the effort to show, on a popular level, that Christianity has a mind and not just a heart. Perhaps the arguments were not presented with the precision or depth of a trained philosopher like Plantinga, but then again the lead character was a young man who took the challenge to defend the Christian faith seriously and did his level best. And he presented the arguments of several thoughtful Christians while engaging some admittedly isolated comments of various atheists. The point is that, while the arguments he gave were not first tier Christian arguments, neither were they bottom tier. I especially liked the reference to John Lennox!

I also liked the humanity it portrayed. Perhaps the vignettes that are presented in the film were contrived or unnecessary at times, but they did present some real world problems, such as differing religious beliefs in families and in other relationships, as well as the problem of evil in our experience. It demonstrated the struggles of Christians over the sovereign will of God and why he says "no" to our prayers.

But my favorite aspect of the film was the sense of a shared community Christian identity. Today Christians are too fond of critiquing everything, of saying no to everything, and, as a result, they have lost the ability to say yes to anything. We are much clearer on what we hate than on what we belong to. It is so hopelessly uncool to say yes, to accept the affirmations of others, to accept one's place in something that one had nothing to do with creating or defining.

When I was a boy, I spent a lot of time at my church, literally at the church building. The reason was that my parents were deeply connected to the church community. They were involved in various bible studies and social gatherings as well as the choir. This kept me there for many hours during the week. It was my social interaction, my culture, my community. Where is that kind of Christian community identity today? Where have all the potlucks gone? Where are the choirs that involve more than five talented showmen to run the worship of a church? Where are the sunday school classes? Where are the church picnics? Why is it so easy to be a spectator Christian? Why are we even encouraged to be spectator Christians (so long as we tithe)?

This film shows Christians involved in activities together, doing life together, and yes, going to a Christian concert together. If this doesn't count as the right kind of cultural Christianity, then what does?  Where is the Christian culture that is cool enough for our young men and women to join it? I can assure you that the modern secularized Christian, who does life essentially the same way as anyone else, even does life with his unbelieving friends, and then goes to church one hour in the 168 per week is not providing any semblance of Christian culture or community. He may go on and on about how weak Christian art is, but what are his contributions to the culture of Christ? How is he cooperatively building into the City of God? If he is doing nothing, I would prefer he just shut up!