Life is a sermon
But we don't often preach
As well as we should
So we fail to reach
The hearts of those
Who sit down in the pews
Expecting a sermon
But left thoroughly confused

Because our lives don't always
Preach the same message
We had in our hearts
When we stepped up to the pulpit

So are we just wasting time
Of those who would listen
Preaching vacant words
Void of passion and mission?

Or does our sermon deliver
A powerful punch
A life-changing message of wisdom
Such that people are inspired
And leave their pews moved
To know God a little deeper
Anxious to choose
To invest their lives wisely
In people not things
Pouring love generously
Like a gift from the King

May your life be a sermon
That points others to God
Shedding light on the dark roads
We all have to trod

Because there's nothing more wasted
Than a life without purpose
A sermon preached aimlessly
Uninteresting and worthless

Friends, I beg you
Preach your life with such zeal
Make the evidence unshakable
That God's love is real

Leaving home is quite difficult
You're going to see
But I don't mean for you
No, this is all about me

I'm your father, your daddy
I raised you from nothing
And now somehow you think
You don't need me or something?

Who might you think that you are, young lady
To go and be "Miss Independent" already?

Leaving my protection
Thinking you know best
I guess my fatherly advice
You just couldn't need less

Well, don't think you'll get off that easy, my lady
You can run but not hide
From your daddy's words
And just maybe they'll come back to haunt you
Or at least make you smile
Especially when you realize
I was right by a mile

Not bragging, just saying
That will happen a lot
Because your daddy knows best
At least, more often than not

So when you get in a pinch
Chances are, I've covered it
And my words will come back to you
Quite clearly, I'm sure of it

But on the outside chance
There's something you lack
If some piece of advice
Happened to fall through the cracks

You'll be comforted to know
That I will stay close in touch
For your sake, of course
Because you need me so much

Don't think that you don't
O you know that it's true
You'll miss my advice
But I suppose I will, too

My advice, after all
Was just to hear myself talking
At least that's what you thought
All these years
Now stop mocking
And rolling your eyes
When I tell you sincerely
To stay out of dark allies
And carry pepper spray
Not merely to make me feel better
Because this is not about me
There's a reason I give such good advice
And for free

I confess to only the highest of motives
I love you, my daughter
So I just can't help it

In hot pursuit a father
Pursues the heart of his daughter
Wanting nothing more
Than that she knows he loves her

To feel it, to trust it
To grasp it so deeply
That it's never even questioned
Just part of her psyche

Pursuing her selflessly
Though admittedly not perfectly
At times, unreturned
Yet still hoping, waiting

Sometimes the race seems won
Then the finish line moves
Through the city streets of life
And that's when it behooves
Us fathers to keep chasing
With love and persistence
To keep speaking life
Into her very existence

Because the love we pour in
We just have to trust
Will be poured out someday
Though not always toward us

And that has to be okay
We just want them to see it
So they know that our hearts
Are all theirs, and can feel it

~~~

As I reflect on pursuing
The hearts of my daughters
My heart breaks for those
Who have not had good fathers

Not every girl has a dad
Who has pursued from the start
But we all have a Father
Who's still chasing our heart

My head or my heart
Which will it be
Which takes the lead
And makes choices for me

Do I listen to my heart
Or hand it the wheel
Does it even know the difference
Between what's felt and what's real

Or are feelings indeed real
As real as cold hard facts
They sure feel that way at times
But there's something they lack

Feelings don't require reason
They're really just mine
I've no need to reconcile them
With real life every time

If I can just feel
Divorced from what's real
I can make my own world
Not feeling what others feel

See, this world I create
Based on feelings and nothing more
Is selectively emoted
For my benefit, not yours

I admit it sounds thoughtless
But I justify it, you see
Because, well, I feel it
And that's the end of the story

But reason enters in
And yes, sometimes it ***** life
From my felt-not-thought world
But it cuts like a knife
Through the clutter of my feelings
Though they're heartfelt, it's true
My head must lead on
With my heart in tow, too

It's true, heartless is no way
To live life cold and calculated
But I think headless is unwise
And, I feel, vastly overrated

Does evil exist?
Well, does it, or not?
I demand an answer
And if it does, hold that thought

Because if wrong does exist
We must face the reality
That calling something wrong means
There's a right way things ought to be

But if wrong does not truly
Exist in bright colors
Well, what, then is justice
But a meaningless construct?

If the **** of a child
In all histories and cultures
Can be called pure evil
Even by society's worst prisoners

If the ****** of innocents
Is forever and always
An evil in society
That can't be tolerated

If imprisonment of a woman
Like chattel for sale
Being held as a *** slave
In her own private hell

Or murdering Jews
Like ******'s evil plan
Or starving millions unjustly
In Stalin's Ukraine

Or killing the masses
For political expedience
Culling babies in China
Or locking up dissidents

If beheading of heretics
Is inherently wrong
Or even violating your privacy
Or invading your home

If these are universally bad
And there's meaning in words
Then there's universal good
That our souls are drawn toward

Something more than just philosophy
Because that lacks authority
And if good is defined by the majority
Then what about the minority?

Tyrants run roughshod
When rights come and go
At the whims of the powerful
Because what they say goes

No, evil is something
More than laws, or from cultures
Or philosophical sophistry
From ivory towers

To try to stop badness
Is really to defend
That there's a god of pure goodness
Who wants us like him

We can discuss who that god is
And what is his substance
But the least we can do
Is acknowledge his existence

You can say that religion
Starts evil wars and such
And you might just be right
But you've just proved too much

Because if there is no god
Whose nature defines goodness
Who are you to call war bad
Or **** evil, or hate, darkness?

Who are you to sit in judgment
Of the religious who you think hate you?
If there is no moral standard
That makes hate wrong, and judging too?

If morality is nothing more
Than just a social contract
Then it's just he said/she said
And there's no moral compass

You see, your compass is as good as mine
And that may be fine, generally
Until the ****** asserts his own
Warped idea of morality

What makes his wrong
And yours universally right?
That's a tough question
That keeps philosophers up at night

Because indeed, if there is no god
There's no guilt to assuage
For the wrongs that man does
Because there is no such gauge

It's like measuring empty
Without knowing what full is
Or like trying to describe love
Without knowing who God is

Vulnerable is what I am
When I let the real me outside
It's not safe, sometimes, to be so carefree
Should I risk hurt, or play safe and hide?

But people who love me keep asking me
To open my heart up to them
I don't know why that's so uncomfortable
I guess vulnerable is not what I am

The few times I've worn my heart on my sleeve
My words never came out right
So I've practiced being less vulnerable
And kept my real thoughts out of sight

People keep saying to use more words
But I fear I'll be misunderstood
Maybe I won't express myself right
Or I'll say way more than I should

Words, I've found, are containers for thoughts
I don't know why I sit here and hoard them
When I store them unspoken, my thoughts sit unused
Unshared—a container unopened

It's a little like having a pantry of food
And keeping it all to myself
Food's meant to be shared, and if it is not
It helps no one—just rots on the shelf

And that's how it is with my words kept inside
If love doesn't share them some way
My thoughts stored inside these containers called words
Can spoil and turn bitter someday

I used to complain that people didn't understand me
And for that I would silently resent them
But the silence, I now see, is of my own making—
If they don't know me, it's because I haven't let them

Through the looking glass I see myself
But what do I really see?
This mirror gets a little ***** sometimes
And soon I can't see the real me

My thoughts and reflections confuse my view
Who am I really? I say
And sometimes my view is prejudiced
By how I feel today

"All's wonderful" I like to say
But those who know and love me
See my scars through their own looking glasses
And observe a different story

I wonder sometimes if they have a better view
Of the isolation I feel inside
The walls that I thought didn't even show
And the hurt my own mirror hides

I think, like most people, I prefer my glass
A little fogged up sometimes
I tell myself my life looks much better
Through this protective lens of mine

But sometimes love wipes away the fog
And I see what God sees, the real me
I dance at my happiest in those bright rays of truth
For true love brings such clarity

You see, true love loves me despite my faults
But true love doesn't fake or pretend
In fact, true love, like God, is the only thing
That can truly clean my lens