Let Evening Come [Adapted from Jane Kenyon]

Let Evening Come
[Adapted from Jane Kenyon]


[Warzone]

Let the light of late afternoon
shine off barrels of guns, moving
up the trenches as the sun moves down.

Let the radio take up crooning
as a soldier takes up his MRE
and his letters. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the mine abandoned
in tough weeds. Let the clouds appear
and the moon hide her silver horn.

Let the lizard go back to its dusty hole.
Let the wind pick up. Let the hut
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the body in the ditch, to the shovel
in the grave, to air still in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.


















[Church]

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through stained glass windows, moving
up the pews as the sun moves down.

Let the sparrows give up chirping
as a priest takes up his Bible
and his prayers. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the grave abandoned
in the long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the mouse go back to its dusty hole.
Let the light die down. Let the confessional
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the rosary in the yard, to the candle
on the altar, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.




















[Forest]

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through weave in the tent, moving
up the pines as the sun moves down.

Let the bullfrog take up croaking
as a camper takes up his shovel
and his tin. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the bottle abandoned
in tangled brush. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the bear go back to its earthy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the hollow
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the log over the river, to the match
in the dirt, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

We Will Not Wait

The future's hurtling toward us like a freight train,

And here we are just waiting for it to hit.

We're not running scared,

We're not even watching;

We're just waiting.

Why?

Our future is not set in stone,

Our future is not made of steel.

Our future is gold--it's manipulable,

Malleable,

Changeable.

Our future is what we want it to be.

So why are we waiting?

We are the Young;

Already our future has changed,

Shifted from one plan to another.

And when the change turned to a downpour of changes,

We gave up that freight train,

and with our Midas Touch

Turned our future into gold.

Shapeable.

Malleable.

Changeable.

This is our future.

We will not wait.

Crocodile Tears

Apparently I had written this weeks ago during my History of the English Language course and left it in my book with something entirely different written on the other side.

The sway of palm trees,
         palm leaves
  in the cool, cool night
The sphinx begs a riddle,
        unanswerable,
    but the answer is in the wind,
           as unharnessable as
                                a cloud.
And down by the river,
    the crocodile weeps 
       with scaly tears,
            and salty fears
   which come with the rain
    and irrigate the earth.

And 'nothing' is the answer
    to the sphinx's riddle
   (but) the wind makes
          the palm trees sway,
   and the crocodile tears
          in the quiet midnight
            are more heart-wrenching
                than dry, human eyes.

Pray Without Ceasing

Yesterday, in one of my devotional books, I read a piece which declared prayerlessness to be a sin. Initially, I wasn't all that surprised. Total lack of communication with God? I suppose at some level it could be labeled a sin. What took me by surprise was the fact that the author went on to declare that anything less than ceaseless prayer is a sin.

'A sin?' I thought. 'Surely not a sin.'

It's an interesting perspective, though. It gave me pause. Is anything less than ceaseless prayer really a sin? By not being in absolutely constant communion with God, am I actually leading a lifestyle of sin?

I doubted at first, of course, because it's so drastic. How could it be sinful to have a few moments when God isn't at the forefront of my mind? That question really did give me pause. I began to wonder if, perhaps, I was writing off the author's dramatic declaration simply because it wasn't the feel-good devotional I wanted. This challenged me.

There has only been one time in my life in which I was even close to ceaseless prayer. My first two years of high-school, I probably thought of myself the least, because I wasn't as pretty as I'd have liked to be, and I wasn't popular or particularly amazing at sports, or academics, or anything, really. I spent that year with a lot of focus on my relationship with God and on my own behavior as a Christian going to a Christian school where most of the students played a lot of the church games they always do as adolescents in the church. I remember sitting in a chapel session that was focused on that idea of praying without ceasing.

Whoa. It wasn't a novel idea, really, but the fact was that I had never heard it put in such plain terms before. Ceaseless prayer? It's just talking to God about anything and everything that happens during the day. You see a random person. You pray for them. Just a quick prayer, nothing special or wordy or eloquent. Something like, "God, whatever that person struggles with, be in the midst of their life today." Or if you see something particularly beautiful, thank God for it.

I started to try it, that very same day.

It took practice, of course. I was constantly having to remind myself that I should be praying. I prayed for the people around me, and I prayed for people I thought of, and I thanked God for whatever I saw that I thought was good or pleasing, and I went about my day. It was hard, though, if I was upset or angry.

After a while, it got easier. Even when upset, I prayed for whomever I was upset with, or I prayed kind of like David--you know, the "rescue me, God" and "You are my stronghold, I take shelter under your wings."

I think, to be honest, while nothing much really happened during those years, I remember them as some of the times I was most joyful.

It's been a long time since then. I've tried a few times to get back in the habit, but that hasn't really been cutting it. If I want to try ceaseless prayer, I'm going to have to be very, very intentional about it.

But back to the beginning. Is a life without ceaseless prayer really sinful? It's a strange thing to simply call the absence of lack of continual communication with God a sin, but I'm starting to see his point. Without constant communication with God, it's that much more difficult to know God's will. It makes sense to me that if we aren't in constant contact with God in some shape or form, then, essentially, we are sinful. I know in my experience that knowing the right thing to do isn't easy. During those few years in which I tried to engage in ceaseless prayer, though, I remember it just wasn't difficult. The right thing always seemed crystal clear. I was spending my arguments praying for the other person, rather than trying to figure out how to win the argument. I was much more easily able to put down my pride and admit being wrong than ever before (which, if you know me, is probably one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn).

Basically, when I'm not talking to God, I sin a lot. When I am talking to God, I sin less.

Granted, I'll always mess up (I know I'm not perfect in any stretch of the imagination), but that doesn't change the viewpoint. It's almost like being physically lighter, more buoyant--as if gravity has a little bit less of a hold on you as it does everyone else. Probably because it does.

The Will

Well, I bought Death with some candy and a cane,
and he wrapped me in swaddling clothes and gave me a new name.
Then the waters above came crashing down,
and the birds didn't sing, but made a lot of sound
and the axis turned, and the world went 'round
til the sky bled, and God said,
"let your will be done"
Let it come.

Grief

How do you grieve someone who is not dead?

Untitled Song

V1

What is stopping me now

Nothing is standing in my way

If only I knew how

To get up from the floor on which I lay

There's no more tears,

I shed those long ago

I've only fears

to stop my dreams today

Chorus

And these words I write

are nothing more than

the beginnings of a song

trying to convey

some emotion inside.

And these notes are all I have

to make things right

If only I knew what was right.

V2

As I'm standing by the waves

waiting for whispers in the wind

Whispers in the wind.

(asking)

"Where is God in all this mess,

where is my God,

where is my God?"

Chorus

And these words I write

are nothing more than

the beginnings of a song

trying to convey

some emotion inside.

And these notes are all I have

to make things right

If only I knew what was right,

if only I knew what was right.

Repeat verse 1 and chorus