Last Words Series - Part Five, "Drink"

Drink


“Later, knowing that all was now completed,
and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled,
Jesus said, ‘I am thirsty.’”
– John 19:28


The fount of living water
bellows drought. I want
to lift a ladle, cold and pure,
so you could be relieved.
But I’m deceived with ease.

My cup is sour, dilute
the wine from dirty
cisterns. Nothing I
can offer satisfies.
Are you glad you chose

to filter septic water,
offer your body to be
my purifier? How I love you.
Keep taking this cup:
Drink up, drink up.

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This, too, was a verse that stumped me.  It's a very human moment - Jesus is thirsty - and what is offered to him is a sponge soaked with wine vinegar.  Commentaries talk about this drink as being one that quenches thirst, but my initial reading imagined a strong vinegar drink as being quite repulsive.  Keeping with the reasons why Christ is on the cross, I imagined myself offering Jesus a drink, but I am unpure, human, and he is the source of living water - whoever drinks of him will never thirst.  Jesus is the great Brita filter for the soul, the city water treatment facility.  He accepts all of my waste, my contaminated life, and decontaminates it. 
 
In light of what Jesus does for me, what baffles me are the same words of Paul, "For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing... What a wretched man I am!  Who will save me from this body of death?" (Romans 7:19, 24).  In spite of what I know to be true in Christ, my offerings to him continue to look suspiciously like chocolate milk.  But, "Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God's law, but in the sinful nature a slave to the law of sin. Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death" (Romans 7:25-8:2).
 
I don't want Jesus to have to keep taking this cup of mine.  But I am grateful that he did indeed take the cup back on that dark day, that God did not let the cup be taken from him, like he prayed in the garden.  And his cleansing and purifying continues in our lives every day, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Last Words Series, Part Four - "Fear"

Fear



I taste the juice of forbidden fruit

dripping from Adam’s mouth.

And in my hand, the dagger

that killed Cain’s brother. My arms

are sore from building Babel.

Abraham’s fear rolls in my gut.

I cling to Sodom as it burns, connive

for the birthright at Isaac’s bedside,

stand by as my sons slaughter a city,

hear the roar of weeping women

whose husbands die by the blade

of my knife. I go into a prostitute

and father two sons by my daughter-in-law.

A slave now free, I wander the desert

longing for Egypt under my feet.

I take the vow of a Nazirite and eat

from the carcass of a dead animal,

kill thirty men for unraveling a riddle.

The men I’ve murdered to marry their women.

The cold shoulder I’ve given to collapse a kingdom.



All of this and more,

borne upon my spirit, every crime

a hornet in my chest. I ask and know

the answer, groan the question anyway,

out of this agony, “My God, my God,

why hast thou forsaken me?”

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Ever since I can remember, the words of Jesus on the cross, "My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" have confused me.  This was probably the hardest of the verses for me to imagine or write about, because it is Jesus, Son of God, who feels abandoned by God.  I can understand any other normal human crying out to God about being abandoned, but this is Jesus.  In that dark moment, God the Father had to stand by and allow all of the wrongdoing of mankind to rest on Jesus.  He had to carry that massive burden.
 
In writing this poem, I needed to find out where "My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" came from, because Jesus is actually quoting scripture here.  If you have some time to read Psalm 22, it's worth it.  This psalm expounds on what Jesus must have been feeling, beyond that single sentence.  If the Son of God is the epitome of faith, then this moment on the cross embodies the opposite extreme - fear.  Here, every dark thought, word and deed buzz, stinging and sapping strength.  This is what we are spared.

Season of Productivity

This weekend, the family and I went up to spend time with BW's parents in Akron. It had been a while since we were all up there together, and the kids hadn't seen Rhonda for several weeks (an unusually long stretch of time). I had a very productive writing weekend because of it-- when we're in Akron, it's almost a mini-vacation for me. We lounge about, the kids have two extra sets of eyes on them almost constantly, and all of the normal distractions are absent. It's a real delight!

Adding to the mini-vacation is my attempt to fast from Facebook for lent. I've never made a serious effort to sacrifice something during the season of lent in an effort to turn my heart and mind to the things of God. When I began to think about the value of this exercise, Facebook came to mind immediately. Beyond the lexulous playing and photo uploads, I am a loiterer. I hang out on Facebook. When I feel the slightest twinge of boredom or distraction coming on, I indulge, and of all things, it was the highest on the list of personal indulgences or addictions. Like many shakings-free of addictive substances, it is a painful, difficult divorce, but also a fruitful one. Prune, prune, prune, and watch the new growth. Already I'm seeing some of the value of my abstaining from Facebook and focusing on God and other quality endeavors. Take out the space filler and fill it with something worthy of occupancy!

All of that to say, I'll probably return to Facebook at the end of this season, hopefully with a firm grasp on self-control and resistance. :)

I've read several good books lately and finished up two this weekend (no Facebook...). Over on Finding Gemstones, I blogged about The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. Great story. Our book discussion group at church met to talk about it last night, and I thought the conversation was excellent. I just finished Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell, too, and found it to be a very refreshing, easy read. While it wasn't earth-shattering for me, I could see how some folks would find it revolutionary. Probably because I've read a lot of books like it, I'm not as blown away, but nevertheless it was a good read, and I'm glad I picked it up (for free on Kindle).

Ever since Key West, I don't think I've read much in the way of published poetry, so at the urging of my pal Michael, I went to the library on Friday and took out the collected poems of Theodore Roethke and The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck: a Pulitzer prize-winning collection. I read Gluck this weekend, and wow, I am sorry I haven't read her earlier. She was fantastic. Lyrical and haunting and inspirational and inquisitive and accusatory (is that a word?)... all fantastic. I read it all the way through once and now look forward to sampling poems here and there, really absorbing her work.

Besides some real good reading, I got a lot of real good writing time in as well. Besides doing some revisioning, I wrote a couple new pieces and pulled together another manuscript for a chapbook competition. We'll see what comes of it-- maybe nothing, right? But at least it is going out. I revised the full-length manuscript too, adding in some of my newer poems and doing a little reordering. It is a good, and healthy, feeling to not be in a terrible rush to publish a book. I am not too impatient (though always a little) for results.

I continue to roll over the ideas from a few months ago about the purpose of writing and the "why I write" question, and I think I've settled somewhere in the middle. I write for my own personal exploration of truth and circumstances (not quite pomp and circumstance), and after that, if the external world wants to read what I've written, I want to put it out there. So along those lines of thinking, I am wondering if there are those who would want to receive poems I've written or am working on, and if so, drop me an email or leave a comment with your email address, and I'll start a little list for those who like my work and want to read my work in progress. I can't promise brilliance. Because I don't have it. But maybe something I write will move you in some way. Or at least leave you with a feeling. Or a thought. Or a frown. Or confusion. Hopefully not confusion.

On that happy note, I'll conclude the night. Time to sleep!