Leaving the glitter of glory for the litter of life

There is a brand new TV show
about some corporate CEOs
who trade their corner offices
for entry-level jobs.

They shed their suits for workman shirts
to understand the stress and hurts
of those who punch a clock each day
without a salary.

These self-effacing CEOs
by dressing up like common Joes
discover first-hand how it feels
to not have any perks.

Such big shots (most think strict and stern)
reveal compassion as they learn
the toll that daily hardships take
before the week is through.

By taking on such toil and strife
and giving up their privileged life,
they make a way to bring about
what only they can do.

But lest you think this concept new,
it blossomed from a seed that grew
within the heart of One called God
whose image we all bear.

He sent an “Undercover Boss”
who ditched His crown to claim a cross
and chose to lay aside His rights
to understand my plight.

But this was more than empathy.
The King of Kings would die for me.
He took my place that I might live.
Promotion now is mine!

* This poem is based on the new CBS series called Undercover Boss where CEOs of well-known American corporations disguise themselves as entry-level employees to understand firsthand what the average worker in his company experiences. As I watched the first episode after the Super Bowl, I couldn’t help but think of the Bible passage in which St. Paul suggests the premise of Undercover Boss is nothing new. That’s exactly what our Creator did in coming to earth to experience our human condition. In Christ, He put on our work clothes and earned our salvation.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death– even death on a cross! (Philippians 2:5-8)

Reflecting on a walk of faith;
No Catcher In The Rye

A Book (of Eli) Review
Reflecting on a walk of faith

The Book of Eli pictures
(most apocalyptically)
a bombed-out world in sepia.
There’s no prosperity.

What once was very commonplace
is gone. It’s so absurd.
Clean water, food and decency
(and knowledge of God’s Word).

The last surviving Bible
had to find its way out west.
It’s not as easy as it sounds.
It proves a bloody test.

One man who lived by faith (not sight)
prompts us to do the same.
With Scripture hidden in his heart,
he has a single aim.

Eli’s committed to live out
what he has heard God say.
He’s not content to read the Word.
His passion’s to obey.

Eli (like Christ) is tempted by
a man named Carnegie.
This Satan-figure knows The Book
has power (don’t you see).

Its words inspire, motivate,
convict and magnetize.
The key (of course) is who unlocks
The Book. The fool or wise?

And in this wilderness of beige
anticipating Hell,
we see that trusting God by faith
resembles reading braille.

The walk of faith is not a dash.
It is a daily stroll.
Obeying is a lifelong trek.
It’s what defines your soul.

No Catcher in the Rye
Thoughts on J.D. Salinger’s death, our own and journaling

Young Holden Caulfield was the means
for Salinger to share his dreams
and rail against hypocrisy
in our dishonest world.

Now JD Salinger is dead,
but not the book most kids have read
about a catcher in the rye
and teenage hopes and fears.

His voice (though stilled) will yet be heard.
There’s power in the written word.
It’s bound to help extend our lives
when we are six feet down.

So, write about what you believe.
Describe the things that make you grieve.
Jot lessons you have learned in life
through failure and success.

Relate the way you met your spouse
and how you purchased your first house.
What insights on God’s faithfulness
could fuel your children’s faith?

The things you journal will live on
when they are grown and you are gone.
It’s never wrong to write it down
while you still have a chance.

Our years of playing in the rye
will soon be done and we will die.
And there’s no catcher near the cliff.
We all must face that fall.

What is missing from Haiti’s landfills?

The estimates are staggering.
We try, but can’t ignore
a tragedy that will not quit.
This hell on earth is horror.

We see those grave reminders
of the loss of human lives.
The landfills of the lifeless
we had prayed would yet survive.

Like trash within a garbage truck,
those corpses were stacked high
and driven to a local dump
where circling vultures fly.

It’s inhumane. Unthinkable.
But what else could be done?
The stench of death hung in the air
beneath the Haitian sun.

Yet while they bury bodies,
hope refuses to comply.
It can’t be ditched and left for dead.
Hope won’t give up and die.

Hope germinates within the hearts
of those who can’t escape
the fact that they are still alive
when with the dawn they wake.

Hope penetrates the sun-baked soil
of flattened lifelong dreams.
It pushes sun-ward from the earth.
It’s stronger than it seems.

Hope is the seed of faith that grows
in all those who have gone
to give the hopeless ways and means
to cope and carry on.

A prayer for the victims in Haiti;
Faith Quakes

Sleeping Where Rodents Breed
A prayer for the victims in Haiti

In Haiti millions are displaced
by that demonic quake.
Demolished and demoralized,
they hunger, thirst and ache.

We ache with these who fear the worst,
who’ve searched in vain for hope,
who question if God does exist
with little faith to cope.

This island nation beckons us
to reach down deep inside
and find the money, time and aid
to carry these deprived.

In short, dear Lord, we long to be
Your arms to those in need,
to paupers there in Port au Prince
who sleep where rodents breed.

Faith Quakes
Surviving 7.0 doubt

The death toll mounts
The body count
exceeds our greatest fear.
This dreaded quake
and anguished wakes
prompt questions. Is God here?

This tragedy
it seems to me
(much like we’ve seen before)
is hardly fair.
How could God care?
The victims are so poor!

In Port au Prince
we have a glimpse
of how a nation grieves.
Their plight of pain
means God is blamed.
Doubt mocks faith
to believe.

But nonetheless,
I will confess
I cannot understand
these “acts of God”
that seem so odd
(allowed or by command).

As body count
increases doubt
in One who claims control,
I choose to trust
(because I must)
the Shepherd of my soul.