Parallel

What did you expect when you
tied on your robes, donned your chains,
your bells, your incense and oil;
when you saw him walking through crowds
paying his taxes, spitting in mud,
loving his enemies?

What did you expect when he unrolled the scroll,
broke your rules, fulfilled the law;
when he challenged your pride and died
on a thief’s cross?

Who did you expect:
A righteous warrior?
A crown prince?
Certainly not the Suffering Servant,
the Sacrificial Lamb.

What did you expect when you
put on the respectable clothes,
drove too fast, went to his house,
looked for your seat, the one with your name?

What did you expect, arms folded
mouthing songs about more about yourself than him;
critiquing the offering protocol, the message,
waiting to feel better?

Who did you expect:
A good-looking rock star?
A charismatic politician?
Certainly not the Risen Christ,
the Almighty Lord.

What does he expect, but a
heart broken and pure:
clean hands, empty of straws
grasped in a rush of fear;
eyes fixed on him?
Who does he expect?
The ones he calls “Beloved,”
even them,

even me,

even you.

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30 Days to 30, Days 13 and 14

I have discovered these are easier to do a couple at a time. I am either busy or lazy, I suppose. Blast you, Masterpiece, for sucking up another hour of my life with your compelling, high-brow period drama.

Day 13 – I Will Stop Eeyore-ing My Way Out of Things.

I think I just broke autocorrect trying to type that neologism. You should know who Eeyore is, right? If not, stop and look him(it?) up. He is bashful and shy and cute. Actually, he is a pessimist and a wet blanket, walking around with his head down and always searching for the thing he has lost, his tail.

I have been known to be a bit of a wet blanket myself, especially when it comes to talking, you know, to people. I do a little Eeyore dance whenever I see a social situation I want to avoid: head down, avert eyes, skitter backwards in alternating directions until bumping into something. When contact is forced, the same motion happens, but instead of my feet backing in different directions, my eyes do it. It’s almost involuntary. Almost.

Right now, you are either thinking I am the rain man, or you are thinking that you have done the same thing before yourself.

What am I so afraid of, really? Why am I embarrassed? What is up with all the (false) humility (Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me!)? In summary, nothing; no reason; stupid human fear of man/judgement/disapproval. Does anyone really look at other people with that much condescension? If so, would we want that person’s good opinion anyway?

No more Eeyore dance. Please catch me if you see it happening.

Day 14 – I Will Choose to Give the Benefit of the Doubt.

Isn’t grace better than bitterness? Isn’t choosing to think, to hope, the best in others better than worrying if they are wrong somehow? I think that’s all I will say about that. Choose grace.