Respecting the awesome power of words!

Posts tagged “hope

Control

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    We crave it,
  whether we admit it
or not;

      especially when
    we’ve lost it
  for too much
of our lives.

          Love is about
        risking the relinquishment of it
      to someone we hope
    will set aside self
  long enough to unlock
the mystery of relationship

        in ways that allow us
      to rise above
    self-condemnation
  toward the mysterious
whisper of grace.

    Once this feline’s murmur
  has been unleashed,
all bets are off.

    This is the only neighborhood
  in which we can learn
to relax and let go.

      We pray, O Lord,
    to find even
  a small place available;
a fixer-upper will do;

        where we can begin
      the gentle task
    of allowing ourselves
  to be rehabilitated
by grace and forgiveness,

      into a dwelling capable
    of reflecting light
  into the dark corners
of both self and others.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

 

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Wall

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Into a salty sea,
precisely mitered
and mortared blocks
dutifully extend the tail
of their serpentine behemoth,

its harsh rigidity
under gentle
but continuous assault
by the shape-shifting swirl
of the moon-pulled tide.

Day in and day out,
the lunar dance’s fluidity
wears the beast down.

Whatever barrier
was once intended,
ocean will emerge victorious,
not so much
to destroy the wall
as to open the door.

“Behold, I stand
at the door
and knock...”
(Revelation 3:20)

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Breathless

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     He goes to the meeting
     like it’s any other meeting,
   because he’s the one
   who’s supposed to be in charge,
maybe even the one to whom
some people look for answers.

     He knows he has to tell them,
   and he has to do it quickly,
but he doesn’t know how.

     So he opens the meeting with a story;
   not the once-upon-a-time kind,
but a story nonetheless.

     Using third person pronouns,
he distances himself from reality.

     It’s a painful story about a family
     who looks, on the outside,
   like they have it all together;
   but, inside the walls,
things are crumbling
more than anyone else knows.

     A teenage child has drifted away,
     raging on the inside,
   yet also indicating
a willingness to end it all.

     Having been in a lockdown
     adolescent psych unit
     for therapeutic intervention
   for several days now,
   tonight is the first time
   their child will have the privilege
to call home;
but there’s no guarantee.

It’s up to the child.

     For the story’s painfully
     twisted ending, he says,
   “This is a story about me.
   I am going home
   to be with my wife
and sit by the phone,
hoping it will ring.”

     He gets up and walks out,
   feeling as if
   he’s fighting his way
out of a vacuum,
gasping for breath.

     That’s the day a church  
   became acutely aware
   of its need to minister
to its pastor and his family.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

No Pockets in a Shroud

IMG_5063Photo by Melinda Dukes

 

By the time
  your garb is a shroud,
    your final wardrobe,
      if not your final answer,
      the cargo pants,
    with all their
  treasure-holding capacity,
will be long gone.

Neither the gold bullion
  nor any other
    gaudy bling
  will have a resting place
in your great beyond.

The only thing
  you can fill
    are the pockets
  of hearts,
yours and others’.

Pour into them memories
of practicing the three
 most valuable gifts
of Life:

Loving
  Listening
Laughing

Invest in this trio
  every chance you get,
  and the whole world
 will benefit greatly.

You’re part
  of the whole world,
so you’ll also be richer.    

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

If I Told You…

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... that the earth is round,
or at least nowhere near flat,
I bet you’d believe me.

... the power of love
dwarfs the love of power,
would your heart perceive
enough evidence to agree?

... that fear’s division
can never overcome
hope’s ingathering,
would you dare
to walk this way?

... the economy of scarcity
is a lie exposed
by grace’s generosity,
would you risk investing your life
in your neighbors?

... that news and entertainment
have become commingled
to the point of no return,
would you seek
to set aside both
your predisposition
and your privilege
in order to discern reality?

... the Justice of God
has a twin sister named Mercy,
would you invite them both
to the celebration
that is your life?

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

 


Cell Whispering

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There is but
one great conspiracy.

Its name is Love.

In the end, if not
in the beginning,
or at least somewhere
in the middle,
we will all find
that it is true;

at least all of us
who dare to risk
who we’ve been
told to be,
for the chance
to become who the cells
in our deep-marrows
keep whispering
that we’re meant to be;

Yes; true.
More true than anything
past, present, or future.

When we do,
our world will never
be the same.

If we are courageous enough, 
our world never
being the same
will also make
THE world never
be the same.

Let it begin and continue
with me, with us;
now.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

Abiding Love

The story of my Malawi-born son, Patrick, was a key part of yesterday’s sermon, titled, “Abiding Love.” Here are a few pictures of Patrick. At the bottom, you’ll find a link to the sermon.

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The sermon link:


Whistle

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    The ten o’clock train
    cruises through town,
    whistling in the dark
    to signal its passing;

  and I, years removed
  from parallel steel
  and locomotives,
  am transported
  by its lonesome warble
  to simpler, childhood days
  when marbles,
  baseball cards,
  and bicycles ruled.

What would I give
to return to such naïveté?

  Nothing.

    I am marrow-deep convinced
    that hope
    is far more securely grounded
    in a future where questions
    drift on the wind,
    and life’s complexities
    are navigated much less
    by certitude and
    much more by grace.

  Grace of more
  than tiger’s eye,
  banana seat, and
  clothes-pinned trading cards;

of grief and pain
ripped deep,
when a parent left
and broke our hearts,
preparing us
for spindly love
to slice us to the marrow.

  Now, this is a box-car
  I would hop,
  to ride to who-knows-where,
  with hobos born
  far and near,
  in search of bread and wine
  to quench and satisfy
  the empty rumbling
  in our souls.

    Do you hear
    the whistle blowing?

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

 


Harmony

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    Grace is a haunting melody,
  if anything, and
the best that
  any of us can do
    is lay our stories
  within her measures
and dare to sing
  the narrative of our lives.

    Of course
  you’ll sing off-key.
We all do.

    And we’ll sing
  through the rests,
screeching like a
  testosterone-enraged
    tom-cat on the prowl,
  or a love-sick mother
wooing life-giving resources
  for her brood.

    But the day will come,
  not all at once,
and not when we notice
  or expect it,
    when it almost sounds
  as if we’re harmonizing,
even though
  we don’t know how.

    The voices of those
  nearest and dearest
will also begin to blend,
  as we learn to use ears
    more than mouths;
  navigating the hallway
between head and heart.

    Belt it, baby!
  The world is hungering
to hear your cover.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins

 


One Foot

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Shadows cast themselves
across the path,
entirely convinced
they are chains,
if not barbed wire,
fully capable
of strangling all movement
in any direction.

But I, vessel
of light and dark,
fire and ice,
have burst
across their boundaries
time and again,
brimming with hope
in a sea of despair,

not because
of who I am,
but because
of what love’s done;
not because
of what I’ve done,
but because
of who grace is.

Let us,
both you and I,
break into
an all-out sprint,
flinging ourselves across
these penumbral barriers
like Olympians
at the finish line,
leaning into
and breaking the tape
of victory’s wreath.

This is the courage
by which we 
who’ve plumbed
the depths of despair
keep putting one foot
in front of the other,

because our deeps
keep telling us
there’s not only light
beyond the valley
of the shadow of darkness,
but life
in its richest manifestation.

© 2018 Todd Jenkins