Ah, yes; maybe
learning how to love
requires not that we
face our own death
with trumped-up bravado.
Perhaps it demands, instead,
that we begin to recognize
both the insignificance
of our own single grain of sand
on the beach of eternity,
and, much more,
the infinitude of grace
that needs, knows, and loves
the very speck-ness
of who we are, unconditionally.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
At first breath,
it sounds so gentle,
like a delicate flower,
subject to destruction
by the brutality
of sun, wind, and/or rain.
It’s not until we catch a whiff
of its overpowering scent,
and its diamond-like
strength and beauty flash
before our eyes,
that we begin to realize
that its gift is
so deeply enmeshed
in the marrow of godness
that no one anywhere
or anytime could ever
hold a candle to its splendor.
Its gloria magisterium
is unveiled when
we begin to understand
gratitude and generosity
as the sole highways
on which we can pay it forward.
Matthew 15:21-28
clearly indicates
even the incarnate one
needs a passel on occasion.
Grace.
Let ‘er ride!
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
To write it another way,
author-ity,
or the action
and understanding
of the author.
To have authority
is to be so deeply
connected to
and enmeshed in
the story
that we can see
and influence
what happens next.
It is the capacity
to convince other characters
to willingly participate
in creating
a perceived outcome.
There is but a single
true authority,
but sometimes we’re able
to function
on the author’s behalf
within the chapters
in which
we find ourselves.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
“Do the best you can until you know better.
Then when you know better, do better.”
Maya Angelou
The road to a fool’s paradise
is paved with the egos
of all whose view
is always down their nose.
I keep thinking that
we know better,
but we aren’t doing better,
so I guess not.
Ignorance is often thought
to be a lack of knowledge
and/or understanding;
but sometimes it’s simply
choosing to ignore
what we don’t want
to acknowledge:
ignore-ance.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
As evening unfolds
and lumens give way to night,
remember that what we need
doesn’t always appear in light.
Sometimes, in the dark,
when breath is all we feel,
we hear the whisper of love
and understand what’s real.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
When faith,
via the rigidity of religion,
weds (or is it weeds?)
itself to empire,
power, and/or politics,
the foundations
of Mercy, Justice, Love,
and especially Grace
are cloistered and compromised
to feed the beasts
of influence, power, and control.
Once this absorption occurs,
only those thoroughly soaked
in a marinade of divine humility
are capable of stepping up
and speaking out,
inviting all whose hearts
hunger and thirst
for Community and Hope
to rise up to their raison dêtre.
The twitching and the sparks
in the hallway between
your mind and heart
are the font of your invitation.
Do you feel and see it?
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
’Tis a day we’ve set aside
to honor and appreciate
all whose labor has carried us,
as communities and as a nation,
through the years;
especially those who’ve born
the burden on their backs,
and even around their necks,
with less than adequate
or appropriate compensation.
Remind us, O God,
of the respect we owe,
and give us gratitude and gumption,
so that we may step up and speak out,
especially when corporate greed
attempts to sink its sharpened claws
into laborers’ skin,
in efforts to reward
CEOs and shareholders
with that which laborers deserve.
Show us how
to effectively reciprocate through
our own labor of love.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
Intelligent people know
what they know
and what they don’t.
Wise people seek
the help of others
to increase the former
and decrease the latter.
Foolish people are convinced
they know enough
(or maybe everything),
and are fearful of
and in denial of
their own ignorance.
Lord, please, toss me
from every throne
of foolishness
to which I cling,
and walk me down the road
toward the hut of wisdom.
Proverbs 18:2
A fool takes no pleasure
in understanding, but only
in expressing personal opinion.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
When I started this preaching’ gig,
as a novel homiletics student,
in 1988,
before it was ‘splained to me,
I was sure my sermons
were directed (if not aimed)
toward the folks who dared —
or didn’t know better than —
to sit in the pews in front of me.
Early on, however, I heard it said,
more than once,
that I was actually preachin’
to the choir: those who knew,
or at least suspected,
they’d heard this message before,
maybe multiple times,
and were mostly onboard with it.
Then came the Sunday,
when a person who had,
during the previous week,
overtly challenged
my pastoral leadership,
didn’t bother to show up
for the sermon I had written
to chastise and correct him.
That evening, as I was mentally
rehearsing — yea, reliving —
the morning’s empty no-show,
I finally realized
that first and foremost,
if not only and always,
I am preachin’ to the pulpit;
and those who overhear
my weekly internal monologue
must decided for themselves,
each time, how much
they’re able and willing
to lay their own narratives
parallel to mine.
We are story people
who were created
by a story God.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
When they tell us
what we want to hear,
warning us to keep
our weapons near,
“Just in case…” they say
“someone else comes along
who sees the world differently;
show ’em that you’re strong!”
Just remember, our ancestors
floated across on wooden boats,
confiscated indigenous land,
silencing all the others’ votes.
So overcome were they
with their petty little fears,
they banished lifelong natives
to a bloody trail of tears.
If that weren’t horrible enough,
they bought and stole others
from their distant homelands,
erasing sisters and brothers.
Now they’ve come full circle,
claiming God & nation, too;
begging us to fall lockstep
into their limited edition zoo.
Let us be among the outcasts,
throwing caution to the wind,
as we build a larger table,
inviting everyone to come in.
© 2026 Todd Jenkins
