Sunday, March 29, 2015

An Invocation


Can we end the journey here—at the parade?

We would so rather follow a Jesus who is popular,
Who does what we expect.

We want someone who is a warrior, God,
A warrior and a magician,
Who gets rid of the Herods and Pilates in our lives,
Who heals our wounds with a word.

That’s who you seem to be on this day.
Can we end the journey here?

But that’s not love.

Love moves with us through the jeers and taunts,
Bearing our wounds and scars.

 By the end of this week we will know—

 Love is who you are.

 Come move with us, God.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

From My Wilderness

It's 4:30 PM.  I have managed to keep my chair alive for five and a half hours today.  This is something of a miracle. The battery's been weak for ten days.  Last night I prayed, "Dear God, I know I'm suppose to give up something for Lent, but did it have to be my power chair??!!"

That it didn't have to be is precisely what annoys me.  Once upon a time in a far away land of say, five years ago, I'd call the chair repair people whenever I needed a new battery.  The biggest issue was scheduling a time when they could come to my house and install it. At most, I waited three days.  Now the biggest issue is, depending on who you talk to and when you talk to them,  A. Getting paperwork from the insurance company, or B. Getting paperwork from the doctor.  Since my doctor has done the paperwork and I'm still waiting, whoever told me it  was B is. . .well, the nice word for it is "mistaken". In reality, the biggest issue is me--the fact that I am forced to put much of my life on hold while a bunch of people who've never met me do whatever it is they do-- very slowly.  There are two words for all of this:  absurd and wrong.

I realize none of this makes me unique.  There are thousands of people who deal with bureaucracies every day.  Many of them use power chairs.  I confess that I write this partly to vent, even though I think there is far too much venting on the internet and much of it is less than redemptive.  But I also write in what I hope is a prophetic spirit.  The Hebrew prophets raged against injustice, and there is an injustice here.  When a system prevents marginalized people from getting what they need in a reasonable amount of time, someone needs to say so--loudly.  That is the first step toward change.

My church--to which I did not go last week because of my battery-- is focusing on wilderness during Lent.  I guess this is mine.  I know I join many in the communion of saints who insist  that in the desert of injustice we must make a highway-- Not only for our God, but for all of God's children to get what they need--and get it soon.