Do the best things only happen when we pray? If so, from your lips to God’s ear; only you hear me. For every Rachael there’s a Leah For every Lot a wife and daughters For every Shunamite woman a Shunamite woman So we sit in the darkest place at the darkest time Rendering to Caesar our inheritance Marrying and giving in marriage Watching sheep and stars by night And Christ comes when nobody is looking

Remember Lot’s wife? She used to go to the market on the corner And on Tuesdays she played bridge With the girls in her play-date group – If wine glasses are playing cards, anyway Or sometimes they’d have margaritas With a nice thick salt rim Remember Lot’s wife? Three days a week she drove the carpool Took a minivan of kids to school And even, in summers, to the pool Dance classes on odd days

A dying Christmas tree in the living room In the front window so passersby can watch it die Has a pile of disguised boxes beneath it Each with another reminder of my mortality Here is a box that reminds me I stink to high Heaven Here a box so I can drink my troubles away Here a box to keep dung from dungarees There are boxes of distraction Gift cards for my lack of openness

I feel some kind of spirit move me, There’s something I have got to say. Could be complaint or comedy; I’ll blurt it out either way. I’ll make sure the kids don’t hear me, Wait until the prudes go away- Then inspiration strikes me And I ask, Will it pray? Can I take these silly sentences, Can I make them talk to God? Do I think he’d laugh along with me And give me a

I had the Bible down to a science: Six days exactly to create Seven years enough to destroy Three days and nights to recreate The Reed Sea or the Red Sea The Brazen Sea and the Dead Sea The sun stood still up in the sky The waters flowed while crested high Water to wine, crumbs to bread Sight to the blind, life to the dead From age unto apparent age From miracle to explanation

Ladder of Divine Ascent 3.5 In going into exile, beware of the demon of wandering and of sensual desire; because exile gives him his opportunity. I’m a lot like Peter: Firm in my conviction and my denial And weeping bitterly about both. But that’s not the Peter I’m most like. My spirit animal is Peter Rabbit, Hippity-hopping down the bunny trail, Enticed by all the carrot-tops… I blame it on Farmer McGregor. If he hadn’t

Christ in the House of Simon Dieric Bouts the Elder 1440s Oil on wood, 40,5 x 61 cm Staatliche Museen, Berlin She didn’t know she had faith. She didn’t wonder how much she believed. She didn’t come looking for forgiveness. She didn’t think about her sin. She knew there was a man at Simon’s house. She knew this man really, truly loved, was love. She knew what she got and gave with men was not.

What is Christianity? That seems to be a simple question. At least until you sit down and have to precisely and concisely answer it. Is Christianity a religion? A relationship? A worldview? A movement? An institution? A set of doctrinal beliefs? A series of philosophical arguments? All of these? None of these? Some of these? This month,  Conciliar Post has collected no fewer than fourteen answers to this important question of definitions. Ranging across a

Praise God from whom all curses flow Praise him who made the thorns to grow Praise him below infernal host Praise Father Son and Holy Ghost The sword that guards the Garden’s gate The sweat and death that are our fate The pain through which all life goes on For these we thank the Lord in song The night so short, the day all gone Serve to make us cry out, “How long?” Until the

The Ladder of Divine Ascent 3.4 In hastening to solitude and exile, do not wait for world-loving souls, because the thief comes unexpectedly. In trying to save the careless and indolent along with themselves, many perish with them, because in course of time the fire goes out. As soon as the flame is burning within you, run; for you do not know when it will go out and leave you in darkness. Not all of

Lord Lord I say – I can’t say it without your help But it isn’t enough to enter into the kingdom I say it to my own Petrine cock-crowing shame But I have, Lord, Lord, prophesied in your name Jesus They say you were―that you are―a man like I am But the only sin you had you weren’t tempted to Instead you had all the sins for which I long And you had them on

Everything is contained in the crux Alpha and omega, beginning and end Foundation and destruction Shame and glorification Sin and redemption Wrath and love As infinity figure-eights around We get two sides to the story Right and left, down and up Scorn and supplication Sheep and goats Heaven and hell Let’s steal a look at the two thieves Also lifted up on the cross drawing us One on the left hand, on on the right

I think I’d like to be a stylite sitting high above the town All the people looking up at me while I refuse to look down Yes I think that’s how I’d like to win my ascetic crown To be put on a pedestal high up above them all And shout down to the scoffers “Pride cometh before a fall!” I think I’d like to be a hermit alone in the wilderness In a cave

It used to be the Colosseum That public zoo lion enclosure Where at feeding time people Would watch other people Brought into the lion’s den Brought into the lions And cheer themselves on As they vicariously partook Of the body and the blood Today the lions roam about Seeking someone to devour Whomever will kindly stop To check the lion’s paw But the problem actually Is a flagpole in their petard And their flag-bandaged heart

Where can I put my stuff? I need a place for my hopes and fears, My television shows and craft beers, My books and games and lusts and pain, My car and wife and kids, all vain Compared to the value of having Nothing twixt me and God Except a sheet of homelessspun. I hate hate hate them all – That’s right, isn’t it, if I love God enough to make up for it? He

The only flight path to Heaven is under the radar Leaving all behind but your entourage of angels Unseen and silent slip away, slip away All you can carry with you is a wing full of wind And to everything else you must be a stranger Slip away, slip away Unseen and silent, slip away Be oppressed and afflicted and for goodness’ sake silent Spend your words like treasure and your treasure like words Unseen

You come to the well because you’re thirsty And that’s where the water is You come to the well with your wishes The ones that are yours, not his You come to the well because you have to For the water you need to live You come to the well for the water It’s all you have left to give And he tells you what you have done And he tells you what you are

Revelation 6:9-11 9 And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held: And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth? And white robes were given unto every one of them;

            ! risen is Christ and we are left looking up and lifting up the exclamation to a point It can be easier to affirm in languages not our own because he has gone to a foreign land Throughout Bright Week we are blinded from standing and staring too closely at the Son We return to eating vicarious deaths after our own death has been vanquished by the blood Old habits

Truly, you are a God who hides yourself                           1 You create the heavens and earth as wholly other Raised above all with arms outstretched You only come down to the face of the waters When all is black and chaotic and empty                          5 And when you do show yourself, we