December 17th, 2008

As The Phoenix Rises


The Great Paradox:
From the ashes, life arises.
2 Corinthians 4
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.
We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

Why do our words fail us, our strength dissolve, and our intellects falter?
Why, when we are most aware of our weakness, does God fill the room with holy fire?
Surely we need fantastic rhetorists, ‘holy’ men with long ‘holy’ prayers.
Surely we need those assured of their abilities, confident in their brilliance, without apparent weakness, who place the suit of respectability on daily like a thin egg shell.

Meet Jesus.
The God who took the broken body of a man born in ignominy.
Then gave life and light, as blood and water poured out his side.

I invite you to remove your sackcloth suits and respectable ashes, for they are veiling the glory of God.
I exhort you to open wide your cracks, let your brokenness rise before men, as surely as the light within you breaks out.
Hold lightly your talents, your great kingdom skills. But cling to the rock from which you were hewn. Hold fast to Jesus, as your broken body grows wings that sing salvation songs over a broken land caught in deadly quicksand.
I invite you to rejoice as you share in the sufferings of Christ. To leave your agendas by the roadside and join the incomparably strong broken parade, the great subversion, a new world order.

Colossians 1
Now I rejoice in what was suffered for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church.

The Great Paradox:
When they tread on our heads til dead. When we bleed…
Light pours out of the wounds, and people live.

(inspired by let the weak speak, owen cottom)

1 Comment | In: jars of clay, weak | | #



December 15th, 2008

The Machine Ate Christmas and My Teeth


The Modern Condition Kills Our Children,

or, Modernism Threw Out The Bath.
I dream of Mcdonalds on the street where I ate jerky,
American Christmas’s of road trains and roast turkey.
I ate a peanut yesterday on the fourth of July,
Then my foreign veins exploded anaphylactically.
These concrete blocks hold my great reward of swollen eye-sores,
Dust mites like trite slogans and promises of open doors.
Give me your currency, I barter my health and freedom,
Place Tesco here and I’ll adore your cold heartless kingdom.
Where then’s the life that advertisements promised on T.V.?,
As my baby lies swollen with modernist allergy.
Here then’s the worm in my gut that writhes in absolution,
Forgiving your fleshy disease that ravaged our children.
We offered fruits of loins like keys to worlds of clean warm wards,
Only upon entering to find mankind found discord.
Take back your banks, department stores, your cranberry coulis,
Give us our corner stores, street sweetcorn and my sweet jerky.
Over the past 50 years, rapid technological advance and rising standards of living have transformed our lives beyond all recognition. However, our frenetic rate of advance has lead to an incredible irony. This irony is that the society we strive to, steal and murder for, worship and adore, creates massive allergic reactions by creating a micro-environment where our health is almost continually in a compromised state.
We are advanced,
We are gods,
Bow down to the collective us,
For we have created…M&S
Romans 8:22-25
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the
 Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

1 Comment | In: assimilation, groaning, men as gods, modern, society | | #



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