The Connecticut senator is a casualty of war

The fall campaigns are heating up
as conflicts brew and then erupt.
There’s hatred lobbed like hand grenades
by those denouncing Bush.

What once was in Iraq alone
can now be found right here at home.
The front lines are dividing us.
The war’s become a war.

Joe Lieberman’s a casualty
thanks to the likes of Hillary
who take their aim
and shoot their mouths
at those who back our boys.

And all the while our troops fight on
confused by those who wag their tongues
creating sound bites for the news
that question freedom’s fight.

Have we forgot what got us there?
To combat terror everywhere?
Perhaps that’s why support once voiced
has blown apart to bits.

It’s time insurgents dropped their arms
lest troop morale sustain more harm
and party politics succeed
in slaughtering goodwill.

Why it pays to beware of what trips us up

Jesus isn’t Mel’s sole passion.
Seems he has another thirst.
His rye humor isn’t funny.
Guess the bottle’s Gibson’s curse.

Having tripped, the star’s now tarnished.
Critics of his faith take aim.
Mel is now an easy target.
Such a fall has left him lame.

But before you start to judge him,
look inside your “righteous” gown.
Chances are you have your issues
that caused Christ his thorny crown.

Bathed in blood, we are forgiven.
Still we’re flawed and prone to sin.
Every day we need God’s power
to resist the beast within.

So before you act so smugly,
pray for Mel. Admit your need.
There but by God’s grace we stumble
tripped by ego, lust and greed.

If only they’d roll over and play dead

It’s hot as… Hello, summer heat wave.
Bow wow days are here again.
Where’s a hydrant? Where’s a shade tree?
We, like dogs, bite weathermen.

The Fahrenheit’s in triple digits.
Sidewalks let you fry an egg.
But the heat’s kidnapped our hunger.
And at night for sleep we beg.

Hot tin roofs make raindrops sizzle.
Most of us are really steamed.
What in blazes is the problem?
Global warming, so it seems.

The drama in the Middle East continues

The Middle East’s
on center stage
and in the West
we watch in rage.
The curtain’s drawn
on what’s become
a record-breaking run.

The Playbill
in our trembling hands
explains the plot
that plagues The Land.
A land God promised long ago
to Jacob’s dozen sons.

The actors change
but not their roles
as scripted mayhem
takes its toll.
This drama titled Endless War
has far too many acts.

The theatre
(like those of war)
has no soft seats,
no walls or floor.
Its sets and props are Eden-old
and blood-soaked from their use.

An intermission
is quite rare.
And when it comes
we hardly care.
For once the air has cleared of smoke
the play begins again.

O God, please end
this show’s long run.
It’s time your stage play
Kingdom Come
is acted out
much like in Heaven
when peace will take a bow.

Meet the patron saint of all who persevere

Ignatius is a saint who’s loved
as is John of the Cross.
Teresa is the choice of some,
but her prayers leave me lost.

Tenacious is my patron saint,
not Ambrose or Bernhard.
He didn’t flinch, dropout or run
when trusting God got hard.

He persevered and got back up
when critics put him down.
And though at times the Lord seemed deaf,
he prayed without a frown.

Tenacious didn’t buy the lie
that says ease is our right.
Instead he found that faith grows best
within the soul’s dark night.

Tenacious planned on having days
at sixes and at sevens.
“Because,” he said, “we’re still on earth.
Perfection’s found in Heaven.”

I love this saint and yet it seems
he’s often overlooked.
You’d be hard-pressed to find his stuff
in Desert Fathers books.

And yet Tenacious speaks to those
who listen to his heart.
Tenacious Christians stay the course.
They finish what they start.