Who really cares about Matt Lauer’s Whereabouts?;
Declaring Our Common Trust in God

Where in the World is God?
Who really cares about Matt Lauer’s whereabouts?

While millions wonder
where Matt Lauer’s broadcasting today,
I’d dare say several million more
are asking as they pray…

“Where in the world are You my God?
Have you forsaken me?
I feel abandoned, lost, alone.
Adrift on some dark sea.

“I feel like You don’t hear the prayers
I’ve launched from hopeful lips.
My anguished heart is overwhelmed.
My faith has lost its grip.

The calendar reminds me
that today’s the Day of Prayer.
But frankly, Lord, I cannot pray.
I feel that You don’t care.”

And so dear Lord for these who think
You’re anywhere but near,
I’m asking that You offer clues
that indicate You’re here.

Break through the fog and help them know
(in spite of how they feel)
that You hear every prayer they pray
and have the power to heal.

That You, though sometimes silent,
have a plan You’re working out.
A plan that’s not upended
when our trust gives way to doubt.
 
 

Declaring Our Common Trust in God
Poetic reflections on the National Day of Prayer

In stone cathedrals, synagogues,
in parks and city squares,
we gather as Americans
to offer God our prayers.

Beneath stained windows or a star
or neath the midday sun,
we native-born and immigrants
approach the Holy One.

In silence or with halting words
we own our private sin
and then request that God would bless
our country once again.

A day of prayer just like our coins
declares “in God we trust.”
A holy God whose character
is merciful yet just.

A God who will not turn blind eyes
to sinful, selfish ways.
But though He knows our wicked hearts,
He hears the one who prays.

Why Less is more;
The Halves and the Halve-Nots

The Singular Truth About Polygamy
Why less is more.

“Not good that man should be alone,”
the Lord was heard to say.
But did He mean “Get all you can?
The FLDS way?”

Down in the Lone Star state you’ll find
a lack of lonely men
who yearn for Zion and then wed
not once but one times ten.

Polygamy is most absurd.
One man with many wives?
Wise Solomon was known for that
but died a fool deprived.

“Deprived of what?” you likely ask.
Deprived of what I’ve known.
The joy of giving all of me
to one and one alone.

Polygamists don’t understand
that sex is more than fun.
They never know that special bond
of two becoming one.

They do not know the simple truth
that Eve and Adam knew.
That marriage is complex enough
when it involves just two.


The Halves and the Halve-Nots
Why splitting hares can drive you bugs.

In soph-o-more biology,
I had to pith a frog.
My friends who went to “doctor” school
were forced to dissect dogs.

For science sake they slice up rats
beneath a microscope.
A sharpened scalpel carving flesh
will give sick people hope.

But bunnies are not halved, are they?.
The thought just leaves me ill.
And yet a rabbit cut in twain
some char upon a grill.

While many halve, far more halve not.
But when push comes to dare,
the halve nots (of which I am one)
are simply splitting hares.

A humorous look at Pope Benedict’s U.S. visit;
Unholy Hands

A Papal Bull and a Burning BushA humorous look at Pope Benedict’s U.S. visit.The Pope and President shook hands.
Each winked to hint he understands
what it is like to be in charge
of those who think you’re wrong. This top dog and this lame duck talked
while on an early morning walk.
Both men ignored their critics’ claims
that they are out of step. “I’d love to ride a Papal Bull.
The thought (says George) just makes me drool.
In Crawford we have many bulls
but not the Vati-kind.” “A burning bush I’d like to see
while here in Washington, D.C.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” said George to Ben.
“The press sets me ablaze.” And so a walk proved so much more.
A budding friendship is in store
for these two guys who humbly lead
a Nation and a Church.   Unholy HandsPointing a finger at deviant priests.Some hands that hoist the cup of Christ
mishandle little lambs.
Because their vows forbid a mate,
they fondle those they can.

They sign the cross, anoint with oil.
With open palms, they bless.
But when the mass is said and done,
they wrongfully caress.

They baptize infants, give last rites,
pat toddlers on the head.
But what those hands most want to do
is beckon boys to bed.

A dirty shame. That’s what it is.
It?s criminal. It’s sick.
The guilty can’t be reassigned.
Their bishops must convict.