"And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile"

So let's not reduce him to metaphor
Let's not make allegories of the resurrection
If he was not tortured
If he did not hang,
If he did not die ****** and tearfully,
if he was not buried in darkness,
if he did not physically rise,
with a 2 ton rock rolled away to reveal the truth,
with 2 full size, hard-to-miss Angels to angel-splain what they saw,
If he did not reveal himself
and walk and touch and eat and speak with them,
If he did not ascend as they watched open mouthed
If he is not now sitting with the Father,

"we are of all people most to be pitied...
"but Christ has indeed been raised from the dead.
"Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory.

That took less time than I thought

- got old real quick

This is taking longer that they said

- still not grown up

I'm not as brave as I used to be
but then I'm wiser

I'm not as sure as I used to be
but then I'm wiser

I ask more questions,
listen more intently
and I'm more reluctant to reach conclusions

I'm not as young as I used to be
I bear more scars
I move more slowly

but then I'm wiser.

I'm a post-punk ginger goth
A freckled-faced banshee fan
Pale make-up matching my skin
I don't easily tan

I'm a post-punk ginger goth
They call me ginger-goth man
Taking my sunlight secondhand
Part of a bat cave clan

I'm a post-punk ginger goth
A Mary Shelley fan
The original goth had ginger hair
I continue as she began

Each line,
each sound enters a secret combination and swings wide a door of opportunity to me who follows
And as it appoaches it's close, the line turns and holds open that door, just for a few moments, before moving on,
and if you're quick enough, if you time it right, you who follow can take the weight without the skill needed to open it, and so you say your thanks
and then you too can pause as you look back and pass the weight , the opportunity onto a someone who follows on.

And so we follow, on to the turn of the next words of revelation,
timing and attention crucial to maintaining the flow of opportunity
until every now and then a mis-step necessitates a stretch, a reach and catch of the door, giving effort to reverse the swing and maintaining the offering of access
and in return we might receive a thank you from they who follow us.
And smiling, we follow on.

Is truth now a muddy thing?
Is that how we prefer it to be?
Is truth a muddy clay
ready to be shaped ‘til it pleases me?

Is truth now a muddy thing
thick and deep, hiding what's beneath?
Designed to hide my face
as I seek a private relief?

Is truth now a muddy thing,
wet, heavy, gritty and cold?
Can I scrap it off my boot,
leave it outside my safe threshold?

Is truth now a muddy thing,
slowing me wading ashore?
Immune to curses and stumbles,
dragging me to the floor?

If truth is now a muddy thing
can I filter it and sieve?
Is there pure clear truth that's not been eroded?
Will I still find true truth within?

Each day I pray for an ear that will hear
above all the noise clearly His voice.
For while sometimes it's best to be serving with zest,
sometimes it's better to sit for a breather
and wait in his presence and enjoy this true essence
of sitting and being before going and doing.
So while sometimes I'll Martha I know that I'd rather
spend time being Mary, in less of a hurry,
for there at his feet I'll be that more complete
and hear his clear voice above all the noise.

Today - where can I mary and where can I martha?
There is time for both,
but I know which is better.