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spiritual

rest in God

devotion to try

The Mystic, Ordinary Process

a wing and a prayer (2 poems)

in a glorious church

(x = space)

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in a glorious church

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look at you

Jesus

on such an ornate cross

we don’t truck

with indignity

or even

execution

you’re still alive

up there

though as you die

you die for us

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rude cross

more like it

wooden beams

thick branches

off the trees

of the Earth

we say the nails were iron

ongoing execution business

for a smith

with earthly metals

coal to burn

or pieces of wood

cut off

shaved off

something like the matter

of a cross

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c l couch

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Photo by Michael Newcomb on Unsplash

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I don’t mean to be a spoilsport about faith and faith art; I do think spiritual simplicity might be important

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Since we built the church, there were pewter candlesticks upon the altar; Francis Nurse made them, y’know, and a sweeter hand never touched the metal. But Parris came, and for twenty weeks he preached nothin’ but golden candlesticks until he had them. I labor the earth from dawn of day to blink of night, and I tell you true, when I look to heaven and see my money glaring at his elbows – it hurt my prayer, sir, it hurt my prayer. I think, sometimes, the man dreams cathedrals, not clapboard meetin’ houses.

John Proctor

The Crucible

Act 2

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Ad Libitum

(sorry, this is long—for what it’s worth, it’s in three parts: you could read one part and then another, later; thanks for reading either way or at all; oh, and there are notes below

do I need one title over this? maybe Obbligato or better Ad Libitum)

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Ad Libidum

(a journey like Dante, Odysseus, or the hero in The Hero and the Crown)

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takeover

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am I under attack?

maybe in a kind of

Screwtape way

with subtleties

sly distractions

angers

and a state of frustration

the Lewis pegged

the twentieth century

the corporate lies

we tell

the bureaucracies

like gods

we serve

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more personally

I have given in

and sometimes I wonder

about dreams

and the waking-up

disoriented

as if I don’t know the room

I’ve tried to sleep in

over years

or maybe

it’s more obvious

something negative

takes over

and gets worse

and there is nothing else

to see

or taste

or in which to believe

all is lust

without commitment

theft of energies

when I have none

or

destruction

of the normal

and the decent

and expected

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overthrown

by unnatural surprise

and then

in praise of nothing

self-destruction

taking as many molecules

as I may

with me

and I have lost my hope

in you

there is no you

only targets

and sensations

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all bad

all going nowhere

all sin

a rage that blinds

as if

I were a vengeful hero

though the song has turned

into

spinning anger

promising an end

to something good

and maybe

long-lasting

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though I have kicked out

oaths and promises

in favor of

the awful

ending

now

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after-action

x

the end

might be an exorcist

something has to give

has to go

revelation

just in time

or on the morning after

or even the next hour

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confession?

well

all is ego

and there is no ego

so there be sneering

at the thought

or comment

of remediation

in other words

stop

simply stop

for now

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breathe

think

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what’s in pieces

might be brought

together

or it might take faith

more than

either of us has

lingering beliefs

now shattered

lying all around

filtering the air

with a severity

of sin

to breathe

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it could be theft

returning what was taken

it could be consumption

spent

and maybe inhalation

bring it back again

or something more

someone else

with something else

mercy, anyway

and love

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and so

Dante might be saved

by Beatrix

once having felt the invitation

of the lowest circle

Satan and archdemons

forever frozen

and forever flying

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purgatorio

to gain a paradiso

stopped there

while back through

the circles

their numbers decrease

I rise

and that which saves

rise with me

‘til I reach the saving soil

of normal Earth

and a chance

because I’m here

(no other reason

for the wrong)

and have a day

an hour

handful of seconds

for

you know

repentance

penitence

sorrow to grieve

hope in the quiet

after

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the demons lash elsewhere

they lick the stamps

of their agendas

sent from cubicles

and corner offices of hell

while I might be clear

and on a hillside

or other rim of Earth

know the sky

throughout the hours

and the saving grace

of what I know

the God

of sun and moon

sisters and brothers

equidistant from the light

who believe

and hope

and try

with me

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inferno

purgatorio

what now

the paradiso?

maybe

maybe another day

for figuring

then let go the numbers

except one

perhaps

and three

and then everything

is countless

for a universe

and you and I

are two and one

and there’s nothing more

complex

than faith and hope

and love

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disposition

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while we might breathe clear

of Earth

on Earth

as in heaven

all dimensions

obeisant

at the last

and we live forever

like a day

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c l couch

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quite plainly, a description of a process of spiritual warfare, guessed at through the ages, I try at it pedestrianly today

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works cited (sort of)

The Screwtape Letters

The Divine Comedy

The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

other things, I’m sure

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Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

Even the Dead have their tasks.

Limón Province, Costa Rica

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Timothy Keller

(x = space)

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Timothy Keller

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The author of

The Prodigal God

Has died

I’m sorry

Though we know

Where he is going

He was good

At challenging

What we know

By using

What we know

Take the Bible story

Of the brothers

And their father

He tasks us

To consider

Problems and virtues

In each attitude

And then reminds us

That the final action’s

Missing

Which is do all three meet

Together

For the feast

Provided

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C L Couch

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Timothy James Keller (September 23, 1950 – May 19, 2023) was an American Calvinist pastor, theologian, and Christian apologist. He was the chairman and co-founder of Redeemer City to City, which trains pastors for service around the world. He was also the founding pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City and the author of The New York Times bestselling . . . [beginning of Wikipedia entry]

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By Z thomas – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=67989122

Milano, Cimitero monumentale, edicola Galbiati (“Il figliol prodigo”, scultore Enrico Butti, 1885).

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Impoverished

(x = space)

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Impoverished

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I am a Christian

(and you’ll pardon me

if I don’t mind

that you are not)

And so I believe

That Jesus saves

And the Holy Spirit indwells

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As God creates

And so we have

The three in one

And one always in three

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And should I be offended

Or should you

And I think neither

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God is

And if you don’t think so

Then

You don’t think so

Though statistically

Most on Earth

Believe

In something

Someone

Greater than oneself

Who is at work

In the world

Or for some

Is standing by

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Jesus is offensive

He excoriates

Both Jew and Gentile

He also is all love

And empties himself of godhood

On a cross

To die

The first

Last

Great sacrifice

For sin

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And that offended evil

I am sure

And the devil wailed

While certainty in hell

Was harrowed

By the Lord

And Lord

Who came alive again

And lives for us

Offended

Or easier about

Salvation

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So we’ve time and chance

To care about

Our part in things

I’m thinking

Keeping promises

To families

To Earth

To what is true

What is giving

What is loving

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Some find love offensive

In the cost

Of nothing worldly to have

Or to keep

Or it isn’t love

That like grace

There are no dispensers

With requirements

Except the Lord

Who says

Love God

And each other

Do both

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And if that’s a requirement

Well

Take it up

With the one who made you

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There

I have offended

But I empty myself to say

I love you

And when I do so

I have done it

And maybe say it

Well

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Love God

And believe

Believe in Earth

Not quite so solid

Through truly

Given

Believe in us

That we have a chance

That we have a choice

That might please hell

Or make a heaven

In the middle

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Believe well

And do better

Keep nothing that relinquishing

Would make love

Wholly stronger

And viable

In an occupied world

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Until revelation

Make it real

And in the meantime

Learning

Living

What shadows

(taught by Plato

and what others more respectable)

Reveal

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C L Couch

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Speaking finally of Narnia and Earth, the professor said, It’s all in Plato.

Except it isn’t.

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good thoughts courtesy of the ALC at Covenant Evangelical Presbyterian Church of West Lafayette, Indiana—anything that offends, maybe insults, is from me

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Photo by Callum Hill on Unsplash

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Breastplate of Not-Saint Christopher

(x = space)

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Breastplate of Not-Saint Christopher

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God of love,

Hear us

God of glory,

Call us

God of peace,

Correct us

God of provision,

Guide us

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God of heaven,

Bear us

God of story,

Teach us

God of origins,

Remind us

God of chemistry,

Shield us

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God of mercy,

Heal us

God of joy,

Thrill us

God of anger,

Love us

God of light,

Care for us

God of darkness,

Guide us

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C L Couch

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Equestrian statue of Joan of Arc by Paul Dubois, Saint-Augustin Square, Paris.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16872826

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