An old poem, revisited

I wrote this poem fifteen years ago. I came across it again today and still really like it. It reminds me how futile it is to ever think we can truly get our act together.

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How do I focus on you, Lord?
How do I drop the statistics and snippets of songs,
Regretted past actions and various wrongs
And point my face upward to you?

Right now, I feel only like kneeling.
But if I look down, I’ll see footprints to follow,
Reminding me that my intentions are hollow,
Well-thought, but devoid of you.
After all, you see through.

But if I raise my face to the overcast sky
And await your grace, I’ll just wish I could cry
For my frivolous habits and self-centered goals,
And I’ll doubt once again in refillable holes.
I’ll retreat to routine and accomplish so little!
Only you know how I can get.
I’ll look up and feel further regret.

So all that remains is inside.
Whether it’s strict meditation (no hope of success)
Or more rumination (redundant, I guess),
In myself I will find no peace.
I’m helpless, to say the least.
So focus me, Lord! Remind me whom I serve
And promise me more than I truly deserve.
You’ve done it before, as I’m finding.
Sometimes, I just need some reminding.

- Josh Hosler, August 26, 1996

And if you don't ask questions, you won't know why

Hear my prayer, O Lord; let my cry come to you. Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Incline your ear to me; answer me speedily in the day when I call. For my days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace. My heart is stricken and withered like grass; I am too wasted to eat my bread. Because of my loud groaning my bones cling to my skin.

I am like an owl of the wilderness, like a little owl of the waste places. I lie awake; I am like a lonely bird on the housetop. All day long my enemies taunt me; those who deride me use my name for a curse. For I eat ashes like bread, and mingle tears with my drink, because of your indignation and anger; for you have lifted me up and thrown me aside. My days are like an evening shadow; I wither away like grass.

But you, O Lord, are enthroned forever; your name endures to all generations. You will rise up and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to favor it; the appointed time has come. For your servants hold its stones dear, and have pity on its dust. The nations will fear the name of the Lord, and all the kings of the earth your glory. For the Lord will build up Zion; he will appear in his glory. He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and will not despise their prayer.

Let this be recorded for a generation to come, so that a people yet unborn may praise the Lord: that he looked down from his holy height, from heaven the Lord looked at the earth, to hear the groans of the prisoners, to set free those who were doomed to die; so that the name of the Lord may be declared in Zion, and his praise in Jerusalem, when peoples gather together, and kingdoms, to worship the Lord. He has broken my strength in midcourse; he has shortened my days. “O my God,” I say, “do not take me away at the midpoint of my life, you whose years endure throughout all generations.”

Long ago you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you endure; they will all wear out like a garment. You change them like clothing, and they pass away; but you are the same, and your years have no end. The children of your servants shall live secure; their offspring shall be established in your presence.

- Psalm 102

I saw a church reader board the other day that says, “Faith is a journey, not a guilt trip.” That’s certainly been true for me. Like the Psalmist, I sometimes cry out to God. At other times, I go along blithely forgetting about God. At still others, God and I walk silently together, not speaking much but totally aware of each other’s presence.

Lent has been like all three of these things for me this year. I cried out in indignation at the disasters in Japan and at political turmoil here in the U.S. Some mornings, I thought, “Oh no, do I have to write again today?” But most often of all, I’ve felt God as a constant companion on my travels. I need this most of all: I need to be able to ask God questions, and not just when I'm desperate. But sometimes I feel desperate, too, and I know God understands.

I’m a sucker for great, catchy pop songs, even if they were never really hits to begin with. This song was a hit at one Texas radio station in the summer of 2001. But I love the minor key and the desperation of it; it feels like a psalm to me. Here’s “Pray” by Tina Cousins.

A YouTube Advent Calendar: December 8

Then I said, "How long, O Lord?" And he said: "Until cities lie waste without inhabitant, and houses without people, and the land is utterly desolate; until the LORD sends everyone far away, and vast is the emptiness in the midst of the land. Even if a tenth part remain in it, it will be burned again, like a terebinth or an oak whose stump remains standing when it is felled." The holy seed is its stump.

-      Isaiah 6

Disaster is all around us. Where is our deliverance? Where is justice? How long must we wait?

We lose the ones we love—to disease, to violence, to natural disaster.

Advent is a time of waiting—waiting for the Messiah, waiting for the one who will save us and be our king. The king who was coming into the world is still coming … a deep mystery. How long must we wait?

In 2006, U2 and Green Day teamed up for an anguished anthem about Hurricane Katrina: “The Saints Are Coming.”

And way back in 1971, John Lennon urged us to “Imagine” a different world.

Too many people live their lives trying to get to heaven, as if anything they did could earn them a ticket. Too many people try to avoid hell, as if they could avoid God’s judgment completely. Ironically, this excessive focus on the afterlife often leads to fear, hate, and the mistreatment of others -- whether it's Al-Qaeda or Fred Phelps. What if we took heaven and hell out of consideration? How would we live our lives then?

Religion can be defined not simply as all human dealings with God, but more narrowly as the useless systems we create to try to "get right" with God ... not realizing that God already loves us infinitely, and that nothing can change that. What if we really believed this? How would it change the way we act toward God and toward everyone else on the planet?

John Lennon was assassinated thirty years ago today. Remember him in your prayers. Remember the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Remember Elizabeth Edwards. Pray for all those God is calling you to pray for.

The holy seed is its stump. Something new will grow from the ashes of our lives’ disasters. How long will it take? Wait for it.