Thoughts

I wrote this in response to an article in The Atlantic  titled "Some of the Most Visible Christians in American are Failing the Coronavirus Test," found here:  https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/04/christian-cruelty-face-covid-19/610477/?utm_source=digg To Whomever at  The Atlantic  whose eyes this might reach: I was saddened to read Jonathan Merritt's article about the attitudes of Christians about the coronavirus and President Trump. As a Christian in the evangelical world, I can speak for many when I say that the attitudes Merritt describes are the very ones many Christians are so sensitive about. We are very aware of our sullied reputation among nonbelievers, and many of us do everything in our power to share Christ's love for the world with both our actions and our faith. Merritt admits as much toward the end of his article when he acknowledges that "Most Christians...are trying their best to live a life consistent with their faith...

The mail came late that day, and he was nervous. There weren’t many days on which he anticipated mail as much as today; but this day was different. His pacing would have annoyed anyone had they been with him, and after spending the last hour doing nothing but that, even he began to notice. “I’m too anxious,” he said aloud. “I have to sit down, breathe, clear my head.” He did so, but was up moments later, again anticipating the news that was sure to come. A package dropped to the floor through the mailbox, and as quickly as it had, Jesse picked it up. He tore open the manila envelope with such dramatic violence that any passerby would have thought him angry. In a way, he was. It wasn’t that he particularly needed the justification that he felt a degree in engineering would bring. In fact, he had already proven himself in so many other ways—finding a lucrative job on his own, moving out in his late teens, staying out of debt while buying a home; but to this day, he felt too frequentl...

A plant I saw with withered leaf Whose life drought left in waste Had bowed its weakened stalk in grief, Could rain no longer taste Then, slow, as in degreed consent, It let a kernel fall Releasing all the life it lent From when it still stood tall “My God, my God,” it seemed to say “Why thou forsakest me?” Then as in genuflection lay It broke to be set free Then all of nature seemed to mourn, The sky itself to cry, The rain came down, but life was born, From ground that once sat dry The little kernel’s sprouts were seen Its buds still tender thus For from the death of Life we glean New life that grows in us.

Outside the clear glass I spied the racing trees Then I moved down quick to see the open seas And in all that time I thought my feet were fleet That my own two legs had brought the even beat Yet the sounds I heard were not the steps I feel But the clack click clack of locomotive steal For where the train would go no one could look to me Still I could step here, there, and choose the sights I see Then when I reached the front I turned to look clear back To find my twisted walk lined down a railroad track Now when I plan what steps I think I need to take I then recall that trip not of my own clear make For all the choice we make and all the paths we stroll Come from a trip long planned to reach a grander goal

When I was asked where I want to put my treasures I was shown a metal safe and a beautiful vase I thought the safe drab, and so chose the vase I was proud, indeed, and showed this to all who’d look Then, a stumble thrust the vase high Down it came, and shattered I was cut, so cut that I could little move All the beauty of that vase was now but shards of memory I noticed among the treasures, those treasures laid bare Something I had forgotten I’d added It was a toy I’d stolen as a kid and tucked away below all else For I did not want to remember it, though I dare not throw it out I picked it up for the first time in decades Studied its dirty, broken exterior Paint marred from years of rust And thrust it down in disgust Just then an old man walked near “Say, young man,” said he, “how much for the broken car?” Why, I asked, would he want it? “It reminds me of my own car, years ago.” He removed from his coat pocket a car, polished and clean “It looks like you had ...

The captain groaned a sour note When once he spied the dreadful news His rudder on the sea afloat Its bearing did his ship now lose Adrift, the skipper raised his hands His face fell drained of every hue For nowhere could he spy safe lands Nor compass tell if north was true From peace a sudden squall began That darkened ship and sea the same With clouds’ descent to shroud that man Obscuring more his eyes and frame With hope but gone, he dropped to knees To pray that ground would graze the ship His tears mixed with the rain and freeze  At once they wet his quivered lip The calm had fled, the silence gone There little hope for light or dawn But in that dread the whisper spoke The words like warmth wrapped as a cloak While countless signs said all was lost Still there he rose to face the cost The tempest churned and tossed the craft Though planted still he mocked and laughed For what is fear but hope adrift The downcast face that fails to lift But brave a...

All the world said to me I was naught but a pawn That was hanged between index and ring But from all of my dreams I still woke with a yawn And believed I could make myself king Then when after a stroke that had earned me some rank I was told I could now be a knight I was told, though my place was still humble and frank, At least now I could enter the fight Then when more social place did I earn through my deeds It was said I could then be a rook I looked down at myself and repeated the creeds That I’d found in a chess player’s book By the end of the game, though the battle was done, I now king, though my army was gone, I turned ‘round and in shock, for I thought I had won, I faced mate by a servile pawn. This poem communicates what can happen when we strive to earn acceptance from others through social standing.