CURSED

CURSED

“… it’s a curse, a curse …” I mumbled, passionately, as I responded to the compliment.  But, as soon as I said it, I was somewhere between guilt-stricken and amusedly-perplexed about my gut reaction.  Yet, it did not come from nowhere; I had mused the idea, before, though never really verbalizing it.

At the mid-week Bible class (2Sam.16-19), we bantered with each other about “… Ziba lying, or Mephibosheth …”  (all good-natured verbal jousting) – Bible Trivia (?!) to some, but a thoughtful look into the heart of “a man after God’s own heart”.  Even after dismissal, Mike, the preacher, standing in the back of the auditorium, shaking hands and smiling, called across the room, reminding me that he was right.  I retorted with a blown raspberry and a laugh.  I then conceded the weight of his argument, but insisted on the possibility of other interpretations of the events.  We both laughed.  The other members were not too sure about us, at least, about me!

The next day, Mike and Peggy came over for a pleasant supper together.  Then we moved to more comfortable seats in the living room.  The chatter went several directions, laughing and smiling.  I brought up a new idea about retirement options, maybe making more possible working with a small church again, a part-time job with benefits that could supplement inadequate “pastor” pay.  Mike then asked a piercing question, with permission, about my fit, my suitability as a pastor!  He made an observation about my Simon-like impatient impetuousness.  (not his words, I tend to embellish)  He was referring to the McLeod in me, the impatience (his words), the stubbornness, the un-PC way I respond to some things!

I disagreed and explained, agreed and tweaked his observation.  I told stories of prophet-like head-buttings with church leaders.  I referenced movie scenes where the heroes were uncompromising and the losers were puppets.  I mentioned that John the Baptist was one of my favorites.  I concluded, after too much self-referencing, that I was in danger of discouragement, but not really of impatience.  Then, I laughed and admitted possible defensiveness?!

The wives stood to begin farewells; and we stood to summarize and finalize.  Mike asked, “… have I been helpful as a pastor …?”  to which I quickly retorted, “… I wouldn’t be there otherwise … you are sincere, simple, spiritual, …”  “…I really liked the year-long study of the Holy Spirit …”  Somewhere in this soul-searching exchange Mike humbly added, “… you are so smart …”  (I have often heard such, but usually with a left-handed qualifier, such as “… but no common sense”  or “… but such useless trivia…”)

I instinctively recoiled from the compliment.  I have spent years trying to fit in.  Eggheads are often egged?!  In junior high, two groups used and abuse me – cheaters wanting to copy test answers, and jocks.  High School graduation was an honor and a horror, getting top honors.  I have seen the results of I.Q. tests.  (and could even read them!) 

But, then I admitted, confessed, bragged, whatever, that “…God gave me a good brain…” and to this I quickly added, “… it’s a curse, a curse …”  “… it’s like being ‘beautiful’ …”  Mike laughed, “… it could be worse, could be both?! Ha!” (beautiful and brainy, and maybe throw in brawny!)  I quipped, “… no danger of that for either of us…”

I lay awake that night, rehearsing the evening.  I hate being the center of attention, monopolizing the conversation.  Self-incriminating, judgmental thoughts haunted my sleepless head,  “… was I arrogant?  … was I self-centered…”   Two days later (I can get obsessed with things?!), sipping coffee with my wife, Melanie, on a Saturday morning, the word was still rolling around in my head – “cursed…”  I could not let it go.  I had been regretting saying such a thing.  It seemed arrogant, blasphemous, self-congratulating, pseudo-humble, truthful, insightful, and more, all at the same time.

But, then to my mind came the verse, “… cursed is he who hangs on a tree …”  AHA!  Jesus gladly, proudly, humbly, gloriously, sacrificially, resolutely accepted his cursedness, all to the glory of the Father, and for the redemption of man.  He saw it as a joy, despisedly scorning the shame, like some berserker, with raised sword, charging headlong, fearlessly, into a horde of spearmen.  “… bring it on, all of Hell!”

What is your “curse”?  Do you selfishly wear it as a dandy decoration; or sacrificially bear it as a demon defeating device?  Do you bear your “curse” daily?!  I will revel in my madness and weirdness, to the glory of God!  Lord, send the musings, the insights, the visions.  Whatever I have, it is a gift from you, not a curse, or at least, it is a cursed gift!  The stones that bruise our feet are the path that leads us to you.  Thank you for the cobblestones.  Let us run the race!

MOTEL FIRE

MOTEL FIRE

I stood in horror watching the smoke-filled motel begin to erupt into flames.  There was confusion in the faces of those running in all different directions, looking for an exit.  You could see fear gripping the hearts of some, cowering in defeat in a dead-end corridor.  Panic was everywhere.  Yet, unbelievably, some were dancing in the halls having a “smoke party” like some sort of hurricane-party or something.  Bizarre!?

 

I remember One, running through the motel yelling, “Get out!  Get out!”  Often, He screamed over the sirens, “You – get out, and take them with you!”  Down the halls He ran, beating on doors, pleading, “Wake up! Get out!”  To the partying lunatics, he begged, “…what’s the matter with you?  This is no party!  It’s a REAL fire?  Get out!”  They just danced on in some sort of drugged stupor of disbelief.

 

I began to help some who joined in on the evacuation effort.  Others laughed and just went back to sleep.  Many, confused by the smoke, froze, not knowing what to do.  And, I swear, some were spreading the fire?!

 

To the end, One stood at the exit, yelling, “Come to me!  I am the way out!”  Then, the hellacious flames took Him, sucking Him into the Abyss.  All seemed lost.  Then, unbelievably, out of the ashes, He arose, like some sort of phoenix, like some Tolkien eagle, calling to us, “…fly away with me…fly away with me!...”

THE SNAKE

THE SNAKE

So many centuries before, even eons, long ago in a forgotten, foreign garden, you slithered out, so sleek and subtle, to the fair maiden, our mother; and, there, you started your surreptitious sickening of our kind.  With your stare and soft hiss, you can charm the most sanctified soul among us.

Secretly, you sneak about in silence and leave your slimy trail of stinking sin.  A liar, stealthy and sly, you spread your slanted spins.  Often, your shed skin leaves evidence of your sickening spoiling of our race.  At the first, to our mother, you slandered the Creator, creating suspicions in her heart, to sully His glory.

Sometimes you suffocate, sucking the life out of dear souls.  Often, you strike at us, sickening our souls, our minds, our very bodies.  Others, you just scare, and they hurt themselves trying to get away?!  Some have suggested, probably most insightfully, that you are a phallic symbol, beguiling our kind with sex and passion.  So many, stupidly, stroke you and take you up to caress and embrace you.  Suspicious we should be of your silent whispers as you “steal, kill, and destroy”.  You seek, as some aggressive cottonmouth, to invade the ship of our salvation.

But, there was one.  In a sepulcher, you thought that you had sealed him away.  You struck at His heel; but, He surely stomped your skull.  You sent Him to “Skull Hill”; but, He will send you back to the shadows below, where you belong, back to Sheol.

There may be many an alias; but, Serpent, you have a name – “Satan” – the slanderer of our brethren.  Cast out you were, from the glory of His presence.  Down to the Pit, you fell like lightening from sky.  With you, went your misguided co-conspirators, doomed to dark, nether realms.  In the name of Jesus, slink back into the sewer from which you skulk and you spread your sin.  May God Almighty, silence your hiss, for once and for all.  Amen!