All posts tagged Blind Man At The Gate

  • The Sycamore’s Prayers


    The Sycamore’s Prayers
    Blind Man at the Gate
    Read more

  • Soil With A Soul

    Chagall

    Soil With A Soul
    Brian Zahnd

    “The LORD God formed the human (adam) from the dust of the ground (adamah) and breathed into his nostrils the breath (spirit) of life, and the human (adam) became a living soul.” –Genesis 2:7

    Soil is miracle ground — it’s the matrix of all life on earth. As the second account of creation in Genesis tell us, all life comes “out of the ground” — plants, animals, and humans. We did not fall as pure spirits from the realm of the perfect forms and find ourselves imprisoned in contemptible matter (as Platonism claims); rather we were formed from the dust of the earth, breathed on by God, and became living souls. We are humans from the humus, soil with a soul; we are a mysterious synthesis of the dust of the earth and the breath of God. There is a sense in which humans are very complicated, self-aware rocks — rocks so magnificently complex that we are capable of bearing the Creator’s image and sharing the Creator’s spirit. Indeed the psalmist is moved to praise God by saying,

    Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
    Your workmanship is marvelous — how well I know it.

    (Psalm 139:14 NLT)
    Read more

  • The Last Train Out of Monkeytown

    TrainTracks

    (This poem has deep meaning for Blind Man at the Gate, but many of the references and allusions probably only he understands. Don’t bother asking him to explain the poem, I’m sure he won’t.)

    The Last Train Out of Monkeytown
    Blind Man at the Gate

    He caught the last train out of Monkeytown
    Bought a ticket on Easter 04 and was eastbound
    Left the wagon train beamed from outer space
    Said adios to the obtuse and turned his face
    Toward something he hoped was there
    Read more

  • About You

    dreaming-tree

    About You
    Blind Man at the Gate

    Let God talk to you
    About you
    For if you imagine God talking to you
    About her or him, those or them
    You’re on the fast-track to Pharisee City
    And life there is anything but pretty
    The worst stuff I ever heards
    Began with these scary words:
    “God told me to tell you”

    Reminds me of when that guy shouted, “Judas!”
    And Bob Dylan said, “I don’t believe you!”
    (“Play…very…loud!”)
    How does it feel?

    Let God talk to you
    About you
    It’s a bit of good counsel
    I try to let God talk to me
    About me
    Because my worst enemy
    Is not her or him, those or them
    But me
    So Jesus save me
    From me

    It’s not the enemy without
    But the enemy within
    Who will do me in
    Jesus save me
    From me

    And what about you?
    Well, I have some good news
    Jesus believes in you
    It’s true

    So cast off that heavy yoke
    That miserable constraint
    Where you think
    You have to
    Set everybody straight
    You don’t
    Have to

    Let God talk to you
    About you
    Read more

  • Turn The Page

    Tomahutu

    Turn The Page
    Blind Man at the Gate

    In our journey through the holy script we’ve not yet reached THE END
    Turn the page
    All that is to be said has not yet been said
    Turn the page
    Long ago the writers finished the text
    But the players have not yet said it all
    There are heroes yet to take stage
    There are dramas yet to be resolved
    Turn the page
    We’ve lingered long over this familiar leaf
    And it’s beginning to turn yellow
    We’ve begun to forget that which has gone before
    We’ve begun to think there will be no more
    Turn the page
    We find comfort in that which is now too familiar
    But the thrill is gone and the story has stalled
    Turn the page
    To move on in the divine tome is not a betrayal
    Of that which we have come to know and love
    But to understand the story demands that we
    Turn the page
    But those afraid to turn the page
    Discourage and disparage and in fear rage
    “If we turn the page things will change!”
    Yes Read more

  • Moonset

    starry-night

    Moonset
    Blind Man at the Gate

    Last night I watched the moonset
    From where I sat
    It was half past eleven
    Between Longs and Ypsilon
    There I sat
    With the moonset
    In the enfolding dark
    Growing colder
    Knowing
    I’m growing older
    And time flies
    But still I sat
    Long past midnight
    Under Rocky Mountain skies
    Until the stars came out
    I saw the Big Dipper
    And the Milky Way smear
    Seven meteorites
    And one satellite
    I hope it wasn’t inflicting cable news
    On God’s good earth
    BREAKING NEWS
    Theater shootings are a thing now
    When I was a kid we saw shoot ‘em up Westerns in theaters
    But they don’t make imposters like John Wayne anymore
    (T-Bone Burnett said that)
    Now we have real shoot ‘em ups
    In…
    Theaters
    Schools
    Malls
    Churches
    Anywhere
    Because Americans have a right
    To act like John Wayne
    “Bang! Bang! You’re dead!”
    But it makes me wonder
    When will America grow up
    And act like an adult?
    I don’t know. . .
    Then shooting star number seven
    Calls me away from the madness here below
    And I remember something about
    Each night giving a little grace
    To help wipe away the sins of the day
    Time to sleep
    And dream of peaceful things
    The moon sets
    The sun also rises
    Read more

  • Peace Donkey On Palm Sunday

    palm-sunday-an_african_jesus_christ_s_triumphal_entry_into_jerusalem_riding_on_a_donkey_to_the_enthusiasm_of_the_crowds

    Peace Donkey On Palm Sunday
    Blind Man At The Gate

    The king approaches on Palm Sunday
    Forsaking the glorious war horse
    To ride a ridiculous peace donkey

    Gentle as the wings of a dove
    Inaugurating the reign of love

    Conquerors come with hubris, blood, and violence
    Riding stallions of famine, war, and pestilence
    (They tell me Genghis Khan murdered all of ten million)

    The Prince of Peace comes without breaking a bruised reed
    Swords are now for plowing, spears are now for pruning
    (I’ll tell you for a fact, Jesus of Nazareth killed nary a one)

    If Hosanna praises rocket’s red glare: Weep over Jerusalem!
    If Hosanna acclaims kingdom come: Let the rocks cry out!

    BZ
    Read more

  • War Is…

    Syria (2012)
    War Is…
    Blind Man at the Gate

    War is stupid.
    War is wrong.
    War is impatience.
    War is song…
    Made silent.

    War is hate.
    War is haste.
    War is rape.
    War is waste…
    Of precious life.

    War is murder.
    War is money.
    War is pride.
    War is profit…
    Woe the profiteers!

    War is old.
    War is told.
    War is gold.
    War is sold…
    To remorseful buyers.

    War is swords.
    War is tanks.
    War is bombs.
    War is banks…
    Of filthy lucre.

    War is Auschwitz.
    War is Hiroshima.
    War is Nagasaki.
    War is humanity…
    Hanging by a string.

    War is Hell.
    War is Hades.
    War is Sheol.
    War is Gehenna…
    Valley of the dead.

    War is seen.
    War is obscene.
    War is famed.
    War is declaimed…
    By the Christ.

    War is named.
    War is shamed.
    War is sham.
    War is banned…
    By the cross.

    War is ancient.
    War is always.
    War is ever.
    War is over…
    If you want it.

    War is Cain.
    War is cruel.
    War is crucifixion
    War is cancelled…
    With resurrection.
    Read more

  • The World As It is (An Advent Poem)

    dylan-2009-0019-kitchenette

    The World As It Is
    (An Advent Poem)
    Blind Man at the Gate

    I take the world as it is and still believe

    Debauched and beautiful, sordid and seemly

    Where Kerouac is a secular saint

    Heard uncensored telling his story

    On the road with Dean Moriarty

    In the long run Merton took a better road

    But still the beat goes on…

    Take your stand on whatever smidgen of faith you have

    Smack-dab in a world of hustlers and hookers, users and losers, liars and lovers

    Don’t waste your life on a pastel watercolor faith

    That runs if touched by a tear or a drop of sweat

    Can you take the world as it is

    And still believe in God?

    Can you take people as they are

    And still believe in love?

    Or do you only play at make believe?

    A world of terracotta saints

    Of little houses on soundstage prairies

    So not at home in the world as it is

    That you can’t wait for it to be left behind

    That, my friend, is no real faith

    It’s scripted B-movie phoniness

    Rated G (for gullible audiences)

    A real faith lives in a real world

    The world as it is

    Sordid and seemly

    Debauched and beautiful

    It’s the little town of Bethlehem

    Good enough for the Son of God

    Read more