You gather the acorn men
Tiny green recruits askew on the concrete steps
With brown tam o' shanters, and one eyed worm holes
Staring at the sky
Head first on the tree trunk, a squirrel sentinel pauses
You totter past through leaves and branches
Clutching your charges
Pinching the Stems
Lining them up just so
I am the new recruit
One, two, three, I count the green ones
Throw away the cracked fellows
Wonder when this game will end
I feel privileged when you place one in my palm
Dusty fingers on my hand, you jabber commands in secret code
And share with me your acorn men.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
In the kingdom of God there is room for absolutes. People fear absolutes now, in our time. Absolutes exclude people, restrict others, offend some, or many. Absolutes create a dividing line. Or do they?
Jesus is the plumb line by which all other lives are measured. He is absolute love, and he asks for absolute obedience. Impossible? Ludicrous? Mabey not.
Sin is deviation from the absolute. It separates us from God, forever. We are sinners. Period. We do not need a little work, a little change…we need a new life. A life hidden in Christ. The work of the cross is absolute, complete. It does not cover us, it changes our very nature. The work of the cross was not substitutionary, it was transforming. Christ died, we died. Christ rose, we rose.
Absolutes repair the rift of our intended purpose: a life lived in perfect relationship to God. Absolutes offend us who have deviated from true north. They challenge who we think we are. They are viewed in little pieces, not the whole. Do not murder, a piece. Do not commit adultery, a piece.
For God so loved the world, the whole, as revealed to little children by the Holy Spirit.
He who loves me will obey my commands. This is my command, love one another as I have loved you. And His commands are not burdensome. His yoke is easy and his burden is light.