What the Bible has to say about our climate (and so much more)

Al Roker’s weather map reveals
torrential rain and heat.
Tornadoes, fires, smoke and drought
and flooded city streets.

Yes, climate change seems obvious.
What’s happening is rare.
Dramatic weather’s on the rise.
There’s trouble in the air.

It’s what the “Good Book” said would be
as we approach the end.
Disruptive patterns in our world.
Apocalyptic trends.

But there are other truths within
the Word of God to heed.
There’s much more cause to hope than fear.
So crack “The Book” and read.

*Luke 21:11
**Jeremiah 29:11

Reflecting on the condo collapse in South Florida

When a high rise of condos
collapses and crumbles
without provocation
and without warning,
we are left without hope.

Against the backdrop
of a beautiful blue ocean,
we watch a replay of a building’s last gasp.
It rekindles emotions
we haven’t felt for twenty years.

Suddenly, we are at Ground Zero again
witnessing the horror of twin towers
disappearing into a cloud of dust and despair.

Yet another makeshift memorial for the missing.
Photographs and flowers.
Mourners and pray-ers.
Grief-stricken survivors
who aren’t sure they want to survive.

And in the rubble
reminders of the fragility of life
and the evitability of unexpected tragedy.

Lord, have mercy!

New lyrics to a familiar tune

Once beautiful, our nation bears
the scars of wounds unhealed.
Of cities marred by homelessness
and rampant hate revealed.

America, America,
look in the mirror and see
the fading beauty that is ours
from sea to shining sea.

Once beautiful, our flag is frayed
by those who disrespect
the fabric of our liberties
and faith they now neglect.

America, America,
look in the mirror and see
the fading beauty that is ours
from sea to shining sea.

Once beautiful, graffiti blights
our parks and city squares
while litter lines our boulevards
because nobody cares.

America, America,
look in the mirror and see
the fading beauty that is yours
from sea to shining sea.

Once beautiful, we’ve lost our looks
by being inward prone.
Forgetting what once made us great,
we’re reaping what we’ve sown.

America, America,
look in the mirror and see
the fading beauty that is yours
from sea to shining sea.

Reflecting on a year of being held hostage

More than a year ago,
we were held up by a bandit.
Ironically, he didn’t wear a mask
but he made us wear one.

Held hostage for more than a year,
we were forced into routines
quite unfamiliar to us.

Virtually everything we knew as normal
became virtual.
Continuing to work without leaving home.
Doing church without being in church.
Being in school without being in school.
Sheltering in place.
Maintaining space.
Reluctantly masking.
Perpetually asking,
“How long, O Lord, how long?”

The kidnapper became a heartless killer.
To date some 600,000 Americans
have died because of the bandit
who violated our sense of innocence.

But through it all we found reasons
to hope and be grateful.
In the midst of being socially distanced
and sheltering in place, we were…

Alone together.
At home in community.
Distanced but not disconnected.
Holed up but not sealed off.
Quarantined but not cut off.
Shut in but not shut out.
Protected but not imprisoned.

There is nothing quite like a crisis
to bring us to our knees.
Pandemics remind us we are not in control
of our own destinies.
If ever there was a time to express gratitude
to the Creator
for the privilege of being alive,
it’s now.

In your own way,
according to your own tradition,
I invite you to verbalize your dependence
on our Creator
and express gratitude for God’s provision
as well as for family and friends
who have helped us maintain our focus.

After all, they encouraged us when we felt down
and wondered if we could go on.
While sheltering in place,
those we love (who love us)
gave us a reason to honor the rules
that kept us distanced from one another.

In addition, they found creative ways
of communicating and keeping in touch
even when actual touch was not possible.

The patient, persistent, unconditional love of our Heavenly Father

A patient father holds his tongue
yet weeps to see his willful son
exploit his birthright wastefully
and suffer needlessly.

A wounded father still will reach
to try and bridge what has been breached.
And though denied what he desires,
a father always loves.

A grieving father knows no bounds.
He sings of grace. How sweet the sounds
that emanate from one who dreams
of that delayed embrace.

A waiting father longs for those
to learn from choices that they chose
and head for home because they know
love’s light is always on.