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A Psalmist Mar 2019
7 billion people in the world; they say you can’t love every one,
But shouldn’t all 7 billion at least be loved by someone?
We all have our circles of family and friends,
And I’m not saying love them any less,
But what about those who aren’t as blessed?
Who loves them in their distress?
Who will look beyond the mistakes
And weep with them in their heartache?

Who weeps for the woman holding the sign
At the off-ramp for all the cars in a line,
Bearing looks of disdain behind rolled up windows
Bearing more shame as each car goes?
A helping hand might stretch out food or a twenty
But none of that helps when she says she’s so lonely,
That she’s “so **** depressed” as people drive right on by.
Who stands with her as tears fill her eyes?

Who weeps for the man on the bench waiting
For an opportunity to come, as his hope’s fading?
A former carpenter, skilled with his hands,
Willing to work but not given a second chance.
He hides his desperate eyes behind sunglasses
From all the wealth and comfort as it passes.
He doesn’t know where the past 7 months have gone,
But he’s not searching for that, just somewhere he belongs.

Who weeps for the girl who doesn’t lie about her “needs”,
Her cardboard asking for money, food, alcohol, and ****?
And for her request, it’s judgement she’s received
From people who don’t know she’s been on the streets since 16,
Kicked out of the house at the hands of abuse
By an alcoholic father who has a short fuse.
Her life reduced to just the next meal;
Who cares for her when she says it’s no big deal.

Who weeps for the man who sits on the steps
Trying to fight his addiction to ****?
He wants to change; he knows it’s ruining his life.
He lost his restaurant, his home, and even his wife.
Brochures in hand from multiple rehab centers,
The last thing he needs are glances calling him  sinner.
He needs someone who will help him through the fight.
Who will walk with him just to make it through the night?

Who weeps for Kat, Zona, Lilith and Robert
And so many like them going through hurt?
The answer to this question I’ve posed:
It’s the One whose tears matter most.
A God not distanced from His creation
But who weeps for the pain in all of the nations,
Who weeps over death even though there’s life in His name,
Who calls those who mourn blessed because He comforts them again.
Jesus loves all the least of these:
The poor in spirit, the beggar, and the meek.
He welcomes the marginalized and ostracized,
The minimized and disenfranchised,
And it’s not until we realize
This truth with our own eyes
Will we no longer just stand by.

We don’t have to tell Him about all this injustice
Because He is a sovereign God who can be trusted.
He cares about them more than we ever could,
It is in His nature to always be good.
Again, who weeps for them?
Jesus weeps BECAUSE He is for them.
He’s promised to bring healing and restore all things.
He will wipe away every tear as our King of kings.
But while this time is not yet, we shouldn’t be idle.
Out own comfort and self-preservation should not be an idol.
So go out and love and weep, but not as a project to help others,
Rather because everyone is an image bearer of God, our sister and brother.
Be ready to wait, to walk, to love, to feed His sheep
And do so in the strength of a God who loves, a God who weeps.
Inspired by some friends who live on the streets near where I work.
A Psalmist Mar 2019
The days seem longer
When hands remain idle
When thoughts are empty
When goals aren't present
When phones aren't ringing
When clocks are creeping
When the sun is inching

But that gives plenty of time
to run away to day dreams.
A Psalmist Mar 2019
When you remember in your dreams
making poems and rhymes
then you can rest assured
that poetry is in your heart.
I woke up remembering a dream of putting on a 1 man theatrical performance and getting 3 songs deep into Act 1. Hoping Act 2 comes tonight.
A Psalmist Mar 2019
You say I should open up more
I don't know what that means but I'll try.
But before you see me up-close,
it's best I at least know what's inside.
So in isolation I pull back the paper
anxious to get to know myself.
I push through my cardboard exterior
to find my own secrets I've held.

My eyes surprised with what I find:
Character traits so deeply hidden.
The flaws of pride and self-expectation,
In my mind, both of which are forbidden.
At my core, I live my life
Full of "should" and "could"
Enslaved to the need to do something
Always for the greater good.

I don't know what it means to rest
Or find reprieve from work.
A moment void of productivity
Would surely send me berserk.
And there's the irony
as I seek to resolve this,
Defining rest for myself
Is another item on my to-do list.

So if you want to know me
I gift you with this mess
A person addicted to achievement
Living a life that's relentless.
And to this new true me
There's but one thing I can say,
"You've been unwrapped in this present,
Welcome and happy birthday!"
After a few days thinking about work and rest, I see myself unable to find rest in anything. The more times I ask "why?", the more I'm left seeing it's just who I am. And that leaves me caught up in a whirlwind of emotions.
A Psalmist Feb 2019
They pat me on my head and feed me some food
When I run into the rain to fetch them their fruit.
Dripping on their porch, I give them their prize
Then they close their door as I remain outside.
My tail no longer wagging, "Good boy" they call me
But I am a watered melancholy watermelon collie.
What part of any of that is good?
A Psalmist Feb 2019
I find my days are stuck                                                                                  
                                                                  Swinging between two extremes  
                                                                                                      And sorrow  
I would love to remain on one end                                                                
                                                                                But even more than that  

I just wish that my days would be                                                                 Still
A Psalmist Feb 2019
Yeah, I'm good (to talk about it now)
I don't care where we eat (as long as it's together)
Work was fine (considering I'm discontent with my job)
Nothing is wrong (this is just who I am)
I love you (more than my words will ever say)
An internal processor practicing being more forthcoming
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