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Continue reading →: The ChildrenOut there, I was the sacred pedagogueListened to, read, respected, avoidedJust another intellectual with a beardSomeone whose name you could dropAs if you’d understood the long words,The emphatic development of thought,The useful clutter of a mind far away. In here, I am the one whose hand they holdWhen they’re afraid,…
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Continue reading →: A Christmas SongO hear a quiet mystery in Bethlehem tonight:A shepherd’s song is rising at the fading of the light.The Seraphim are joining him as Heaven shines around,And Cherubs veil their faces at the power of the sound:The Godhead takes on flesh today, High God becomes a man,To raise the lowly to…
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Continue reading →: Stop. 1030am May 1st 1947 350 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY Her necklace still clutched in her hand Looking like she’d just fallen asleep on a quiet summer day A note left with terrible hopeless words written on it, some of them crossed out: “I beg of you – don’t…
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Continue reading →: RiverThe thing about a river Is you can pull your truck off on the concrete bridge Hot on a day late in the autumn’s eve Quiet, so very quiet Deep in a red-clay county Where the gravels mince beneath your boots As if they’re afraid of waking the woods up And the branches furled low…
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Continue reading →: Faithful Doubt: A Book ReviewI think this book embodies a tremendous amount of what troubles me about the postmodern church in America. I have not read it, nor do I intend to. Life is too short and the arts too long to waste either one on initiatives like this one. I would not even…
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Continue reading →: Truth in Love: A Response to Chuck DeGroatChuck DeGroat is a voice I appreciate a lot. His book on narcissism in the church is a must-read for any wishing to understand the psychology and emotional mechanics of narcissism in ministry and what the Bible has to say about it. It can mean the difference between spending the…
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Continue reading →: INRISomething told me this one was not the same:The way the soldiers knocked, their nervous breaths—Their rough command: “Make up a sign, old man,The prefect needs it done. Three languages:The lingua communis, Koiné, and wordsAs all these sorry fellows mutter hereIn such a hell-hole as Jerusalem.” I rooted through my…
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Continue reading →: PureMy name was CzesÅ‚awa Kwoka He told me to keep my chin up for the picture…
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Continue reading →: MoonriseThe city sleeps, and over its dark fenA sacred stillness rises to the skyAs if the urbs aeterna lived again—Its centuries of ruin brushed asideJust long enough to catch a fleeting glimpseOf soaring temples, bustling markets’ din—An ancient people’s worship that still drinksThe nectar of our admiration in.So always it…
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Continue reading →: The Way: A Hymn of HolinessThere is a Day Dark-dawned, devoted to destruction Fear and terror rising in it thick as mist on the hills A sharp sword glutted with blood, drinking its fill in the heavens Where is the bright maiden, the proud youth, their canticle? They are laid waste, and their bower is broken Their…






