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Sanctuary

Sanctuary

 

Because one is still

 

Does not mean that one is safe—

Life in one cell is open to

Mutation, loss of parts, disease;

 

Life within a prison cell

Suffers from same dangers

 

In detention and in

Isolation

(Even with others in proximity),

 

Under death-order and maybe death-

Watch;

 

How,

 

Fixed under a demon’s yoke

Whose cause is politics,

Who for an idea

 

Has been taken out

Of actual existence?

 

Toward the Southern Pole

(Closer than most of us will

Get), there is a Russian Orthodox

Church—

 

Ten bodies with ten souls within

May worship;

 

The rest know that the church is

There:

 

Triptychs of spirit and of hope

Inside

At the end of the world,

 

Where there is likelihood

Of living through oppression

 

Wrought by nature or assignment.

 

What sanctuary in the prison cell,

Where trapped mind and abandoned

Spirit are closed maybe for a

Final time,

 

Where fear

The only inner company?

 

Andy awaits

Release of one kind or

Another.

 

 

http://www.ekklesia.co.uk/node/23100

Kidnapped Briton spends 700th day in illegal detention

A British man who is held under sentence of death in Ethiopia has spent his 700th day in unlawful detention, after he was kidnapped and rendered to the country by Ethiopian forces in 2014.

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A Memory of Church

A Memory of Church

The family of God
That is the church

I have a memory:
A small church building
On the edge of town
Maybe on the way
To the next place
Or into the countryside
Or simply on the
Outskirts; and in this
Church, there was
A very pleasant man
The pastor with whom
I had enjoyed an
Ecumenical Bible
Study in the town

I liked that man, and
I liked that church
He and it were simple
(In the best way we
Use that word), set
Apart—the way I
Think the universal
Church should be;

And isn’t—we want
To be in the center of
Town, where everything
Fashionably important
Takes place

We want to be in
And will accommodate
Much about ourselves
So we can be there

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Psalm 2 (and a note below)

Psalm 2

Lord, find me a church
One that welcomes me and
No one like me

One that cherishes who I
Am and who I’m not, who
You are and who you’re not

Our ages, occupations, the
Absence of occupation, our
Injured lives, triumphant lives
Our sorrows and our joys

Yes, our genders, too
And all the tones of skin

The differences and sameness

God made us, after all
And first of all
And is making us, still

A place where can give our
Millions and our mites

Our giving is small, but your sight
And your other senses
Make it pleasing, I think

Help me with a church despite
Myself and what’s happened there
The house of God is where your
People live, and I
Should live there, too

C L Couch

Psalms are songs. Psalms require us. And typically they require God.

So psalms are our songs to God. We read or sing them singly or in the community.

We sing psalms and let them move us how they will. How God might be moved we’ll never know while on this side of things. Yet still we sing. We should.

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