Waiting at Gate 3 with my boarding pass
and Birkenstocks, I noticed on the wall
a matte moonrise over a zag of Badlands
sandstone: the violet November vault,
the cedars in the crags, every probability
of a Peregrine perched somewhere
in the shadows. And now I see it, rising
on the nascent night, navy-winged,
dividing the cool air in brushstrokes
no painter dare approximate. As it veers
off the canvas, I promise never to leave
again, if only you’ll wait for me—
This load of guilt that weighs upon my mind
and chills the natural movements of the heart,
these cares that burn, and memories that bind,
that grip my soul and make me stand apart [...]
As wise servants invest their time and gold,
So good things come to those who work and pray;
Faithfulness is the fruit that yields tenfold [...]
I find it impossible," says N. T. Wright, "to imagine a growing and maturing church or Christian doing without the Psalms. And that is why (to be frank) a fair amount of contemporary Christian music has worried me for some time" (165). In this latest offering from Tom Wright, both individual Christian devotion and corporate […]
Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack’d anything. “A guest,” I answer’d, “worthy to be here”; Love said, “You shall be he.” “I, the unkind, the ungrateful? […]
