Confession

Today, a guest poet came to perform for our kids. Through the course of the day, he recited many outstanding poems, many of which subtly derided God and the idea of religion. When one girl asked if there was any one experience or thought that showed up in almost all of his writing, he admitted that religion did. Although he didn't get specific, he DID say that he had been told once that he was going to go to hell for being himself, and he stated adamantly that he didn't believe THAT anymore. It was clear that he had been shown a face of religion that all too many people are shown-- that of judgement, anger, and condemnation, rather than love, welcome, and grace. It grieved me deeply, as I've had several conversations lately with people who have told me about the battle-scars they've walked away with after church services. After a day of hearing poetry, my thoughts in response to this came out in the abstract verse below. I took great creative license in "quoting" this man in the beginning of the poem-- however, whether or not those are words he would say, I would venture that they have been thought/felt/spoken, if not by him, by one of the many other people who have been shown a mangled face of Jesus.

"There are no scars on His hands or His wrists," he says
"But my heart is clenched like a fist," he says
"What else could it be, when they shouted out 'Hell!' to a boy who was only being himself? And these sinners, these speakers, they unfurled floods of anger, they sneered while condemning their own vice and dangers, they steered their church across my knees, I see train wrecks, I see ship wrecks, I hear them speak, 'You: fault line, no straight lines where you come from,' they said, they said, they said to me.

"Angels make wings, right? They fly, right?
"But the feathers I found were only rubbed-out eyelashes for wishes made upon,
"Wish for light,
"Wish for wholeness,
"She put me to bed, said 'Sweet dreams son,' but running is all I dream about.

"I want wishes, I want light,
"And she pulls out her lashes to get me through the night.
"She says, 'One of these days, we'll both wake up with grace on our pillows.'

"I tried to follow.

"They said flames, they named names, but when I offered up mine,
"They said, 'Beast, away,'
"I looked for light, I looked for freedom, I tried to fly but hit the ceiling,
"There was no light switch, there was no quick fix, I said the prayer, I said, 'Pick me then!'
"But what I found was cold religion.

"'Do as I say, not as I do.
"'He forgives sinners, except sinners like you.
"'Toe the line kid, and do it our way
"'Take up the cross or rue the day
"'You didn't.'

"Just myself," he says.
"I was just myself
"And they said that that
"Was plenty hell-worthy."

I take it in.
I ache within,
I've said those words,
I've dug a hole for burials of lesser souls
I've nailed the lid on the coffin.
I confess. I confess.

I confess, I did.

And I look at a man with residue
Of religion gone wrong, of God misused.
He cried out for help, and he got abuse, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry

I'm sorry, I did.

We should have said, come as you are.
Should have said, right there too.
Should have said, I'll just listen
Since speaking is so over-used.
And no shaking fingers,
No skeptical foreheads
The face He had
Could not have been the face you read
From us.

Where do I begin?

Is there water to wash the damage, to clean off the face of a Lord we've mangled, to wipe the eyebrows to clean the nail beds, are there waves to recreate the music we've savaged? Is there water to make the sunrise, to send up steam for reflective cloud skies shape them in angels, shape out the feathers, send down a real one to a boy still asleep, send it to the boy who is running through dreams, send it then, send him grace, send him grace on his pillow.

Rouse him gently.

Show him a face of kindness first.
Don't speak, don't hurt, just deepen eyes,
Soften your breathing,
Just show him a sigh, show him healing.
If you open your mouth, you should only sing something lullaby,
Just quiet-like.
Let the light creep in through the window
And let that soften the harsher corners,
Let that ruffle the dusty curtains,
Let that chase away the spiders,
Let that reach into monster corners,
Let that blow the cobwebs and ashes,
He is just a boy, he is just

Himself

And that is loved. And that is worth holding.

Let the dawn break
On the heart that he's clutching.

I can't begin to apologize
For the lies the lies the lies the lies
That said you weren't acceptable.

Those words are damnable.

Saving
Should be a safe place to land
Grace
Should be a strong weathered hand
His face
Should say, "I understand,
"And I love you, I love you, I love you,
"It's love
"Like sand on the shore
"Like rain from the sky
"Like poppy weed buds that fire burst bright
"I love you like this
"I love you right now
"I love you running and aching and braving and shaking and falling and breaking again, and I loved you then
"And I loved you then
"And I loved you then, even then."

It's kindness
We missed it
It's mercy we forgot.
Instead of His words,
We sang funeral songs.

I confess,
And I'm sorry.
And I pray with my lashes,
That His face in the sunrise
Gives you grace
And not ashes.


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