Why Jesus would be a guest on The Ellen Degeneres Show

Oh, by the way I heard that Mel
was on the Ellen Show.
Their passions are not quite the same.
He’s hetero you know.

A Gibson girl this host is not.
We all know Ellen’s gay.
And Mel’s a bloody Jesus chap
who claims the narrow way.

But lest you judge the actor’s choice
for being Ellen’s guest,
consider what you know of Christ.
Let that be Prudent’s test.

This rabbi ate with prostitutes.
He hung with the maligned
while those self-righteous holy types
were hateful and unkind.

Though criticized, the rabbi loved
to mix with those who sinned.
In fact the Good Book clearly states
he was the sinners’ friend.

The bottom line? I think J.C.
would sit at Ellen’s side.
The passion of the Christ was love
and that is why he died.

The joys of capturing a killer and stealing home

Lessons from a Wichita Church
What the capture of the BTK killer means to ministers. 

It might seem like all is kosher
as you take care of your flock.
But be cautious of those members
when their walk belies their talk. 

You don’t know to whom you’re preaching.
One might be a fugitive
whose been wanted for three decades
running free as through a sieve. 

In your flock there may be secrets
in the hearts of ewes and rams.
One who loves to call you shepherd
might be someone on the lam. 

Don’t take chances with youth workers.
Better do those background checks.
There are wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing
who will prey on kids for sex. 

It could be that some you’ve baptized
have not paid a legal debt.
Even though they’re splashed with water
their facade may be all wet. 

Even Jesus had a Judas
who pretended all was right.
But this scoundrel had a secret
that eventually came to light. 

What seems normal can be deadly.
Sad to say, we must beware.
For among repentant sinners
evil people rig their snare. 

So the moral of this poem
is to be alert and wise.
Do not let some baa-a-ad imposter
pull the wool over your eyes.

The Other March Madness
Examining the indescribable lure of spring training.

The smell of spring is all about.
White-chalked infields, grassy outs.

Bats with pitch. Well-oiled gloves.
The scent of March is what I love.

Players rested (game to play)
practice where it’s warm all day.

Fans in shorts seek autographs,
shag foul balls, tell jokes and laugh.

Scarfing peanuts, spitting seeds,
gauging pitchers’ fastballs’ speed.

Chasing down a homerun ball.
Peering through a chain-link wall.

Watching walk-ons try their luck.
Buying hotdogs for a buck.

Getting psyched for Opening Day
when my team will swing away.

Call it crazy. Say I’m mad.
Baseball fever is no fad.

Jose, Can You See?
Why Canseco’s confessions aren’t believable even if they’re true.

Jose, can you see
how your book’s been received?
Because of your antics,
your words aren’t believed.

Your motive for writing
is highly suspect.
No wonder those slandered
are prone to object.

And even if most
of what you claim is true,
a lack of integrity
undermines you.

It seems you owe taxes.
You’ve cheated on wives.
You’ve broken probation.
You’ve juiced up and lied.

Your word has no merit.
You’re viewed as a joke.
Your lost reputation
has gone up in smoke.

And so here’s the lesson
we’d best not avoid.
A life marked by scandal
is worse than steroids.

A reflection of the Incarnation in South Asia

Former Oval Officers
wept where tidals waved.
Bush and Clinton watched in horror
while their courage caved.

What they saw exceeded all
that they thought they’d see.
Tragic sights beyond belief.
Countless refugees.

Homeless orphaned babies cling
to those who reach out.
Parents robbed of children lost
wander (dazed) about.

Treeless landscapes raped by force
hide its buried dead
while those victims still alive
pray for daily bread.

Thank you, God, for George and Bill.
They left comfort zones
so to taste the bitterness
of those damned, alone.

And that smacks of what You did
when in Christ you came.
Visiting our ravaged world,
you embraced our shame.

The Declaration of Dependence Our Presidents Have Voiced

We honor former Presidents
who steered our Ship of State.
In powdered wig or blow-dried hair,
each made our nation great.

Each took an oath acknowledging
a Higher Power’s aid.
And in an office oval-shaped,
each squared his knees and prayed.

Each understood America’s
uniquely servant role
in planting freedom’s seeds abroad
no matter what the toll.

Those living and those long-since dead
found strength in one short phrase.
“In God We Trust” was grounds for hope
on good (and stressful) days.

And so we think of George and Abe,
of Gerald, Jimmy, Bill
and all the others in the list
who sought God for His will.

Looking at Valentine’s Day through the lens of a lifetime

Forget your dancing shoes.
Remember your walking stick.

Romance is a dance of passion
choreographed by the capricious emotions
of desire.

But lasting love is a daily walk
where the talk of commitment
makes steady progress
toward the destination of a lifetime.

It’s an adventure trek into tomorrow
where the surprises you encounter
beyond the bend
are both a shared and priceless prize.

It’s a hike on a mountain path
that encompasses breathtaking vistas,
valleys of disappointment
and fog-shrouded plateaus
where companionship
doubles your joy
and divides your sorrow.

It’s a slow-motion shuffle
when, as an elderly couple,
you hold hands
(having held true to your word)
and whisper to each other,
“After all these years I still do!”

It’s a lonely stroll
down a quiet corridor
that leads you to a certain room
where one connected to monitors and tubes
still recognizes your voice
and smiles as you ask
“Will you be my valentine?”

Don’t settle for the fleeting dance of romance.
Make your relationship a walk to remember.