Test. One two.
Three four. This is more
into a microphone.
This is life and death as metaphor and poem.
This is my heart pressed
against a megaphone.
This is all the hope in my chest
here to confess
the God who came to empty His divinity
into a cage of humanity and entropy,
mercy dressed in chromosomes and flesh
to join in our adversity, to love us in our suffering.
Consider this an open letter to a caged bird,
one child out of a generation
in African nations imprisoned by starvation.
This is my apology
to a girl orphaned by HIV,
who deserves more from me
than the misery
of a birthright stolen by the machinery of poverty.
A childhood of tear stains, and stars torn asunder.
And I can’t help but wonder,
is my faithlessness leaving her falling, fatherless,
featherless on flightless wings?
I’m sorry for the accident of longitude and latitude
that forms the grid of bars on her cage,
for my attitude of apathy
that added to the twisted theology
that justifies my obesity,
that tips the scales for me
and strips away her dignity.
Consider this an open letter to my soul.
If I could fly, I would perform the rite
that rights the wrongs,
write God’s words in the sky,
ride the currents, creating cursive curves to cure the curse
of currency that currently
traces a trajectory of tragedy.
But I’m trapped between these dreams of wings
and this politician in my head
who changes convictions and hides in contradictions.
See, I know this world is not my home
and this life is not my own,
purchased with Christ’s blood alone.
But I can’t stop trying to fill my hollow bones
with empty things that only bring death’s sting.
What kind of faith is it
that turns away from a pandemic?
Aren’t we all diminished
when we become a church of critics and cynics,
while the very image of God’s beloved Son
is hungry and hurting and living in mud?
And we won’t get our hands dirty.
If true religion is for the
widow and the orphan,
are we able to offer more than
just labels? As Christians
will we make the decision
to love the children without fathers,
to be a drink of water
for God’s sons and daughters?
Will we live what He has spoken?
Will we bend to lift the damaged and the broken?
Church, I’m not gonna hide tonight from what the truth is:
God gives us gifts not to keep but to use them.
Are we really God’s people, or do we just talk big?
Let’s prove this;
Get your heart out of your wallet and let’s do this!
Get your feet in the dust and let’s move into living
the bigger story God is using
to heal the world.
Consider this an open letter to the Holy Trinity,
who is ever present at the address
of misery and unless.
Father will you grant us new wings,
that we might be
ones who bring
Seeking the suffering, being with the weak,
interceding with the Spirit to redeem the dignity
of every human being.
Would You break the spell of HIV?
B the key that unlocks the door of this C A G E.
Will You speak a new name for all of your adored?
Call us forth,
change our course,
orphaned souls to find true north,
meant to fly, sent to rise
up from the cage,
sky of stars.
Let love break through these bars.
Videography: Wes Broadhurst & Jim Kallemeyn
VJ: Liz Jarocki
All Content © Don McCaleb 2010-2014. All Rights Reserved.