The Ones Who Wait To See (Empat Empat)

The Ones Who Wait To See (Empat Empat)

The ones who wait to see aren’t blind,
their torch can only reach so far:
the next few paces ahead find
rocks, roots, and holes to stumble o’er.

Many insist on seeing now;
the ones who wait aren’t blind.
The ones who put their hands to plow
dare not to even glance behind.

The eyes of their hearts are inclined
to strive and strain to pierce the dark.
The ones who wait to see aren’t blind;
they fear only to miss the mark.

They do not yet have blood-tipped hands
whose fingertips the Scars outline;
they shall see when they reach the land.
The ones who wait to see aren’t blind.


What is an empat empat?

April 2020 Poem-a-Day Challenge #10

Childish (Magic 9)

Childish (Magic 9)

Faith like a child
means seeing everything
as an adventure: wild
animals and powerful words
so easily reviled
by the “grown ups”
who are too lofty and wise
to be able to bring
themselves to even crack a smile.


What is a magic 9 poem?

April 2020 Poem-a-Day Challenge Countdown: T-Minus 5

Say the Word (Luke 7-8)

Say the Word (Luke 7-8)

I’m doing some catch-up reading for the Foundations New Testament plan, and I noticed some connections between Luke 7 and 8.

Luke 7 tells the story of the centurion with the dying servant who begs Jesus for healing. Luke 8 tells the story of Jesus stilling the stormy sea while crossing over with the disciples.

I tried to sketch out the similarities and contrasts between the two events on a single piece of blue-bar paper. The first image is the whole thing (with some comments); the second and third are each the passages from chapter 7 and 8 by themselves.

The centurion in chapter 7 has a good relationship with the Jewish community, and the elders he sends to Jesus plead on his behalf, noting his benevolence and generosity make him worthy of having his request granted. The centurion himself, however, asserts his unworthiness twice. For a man with considerable power, he’s remarkably humble.

He then tells Jesus he understands Jesus has the authority to command healing, just as he commands soldiers and servants. In fact, I believe his last example (“…and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it”) refers to the very servant he wants healed. The one command that cannot be obeyed is, “Be healed.” But if Jesus gives that command, it will be obeyed, he believes.

Jesus is amazed (Greek thaumazo) when He hears this. It’s unusual to find such great faith, even in Israel, where it should be readily found. The centurion had heard about Jesus and believed; “faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ,” Romans 10:17 tells us. He hadn’t seen Jesus; he had only heard of him. Yet he believed Jesus could do the one thing he could not, sight unseen. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe,” Jesus would tell Thomas later (John 20:29).

Contrast that great faith with the lack of it shown by the disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in Luke 8. Presumably, the disciples knew at least as much—likely much more—than the centurion about Jesus. Their responses to desperate situations are drastically different.

The centurion humbly and meekly “requests” Jesus’ help (“Lord, don’t trouble yourself”). The disciples, on the other hand, “came and woke Jesus up, saying”—likely screaming—”Master, Master, we’re going to die!”

In both instances, Jesus issues a command that is immediately obeyed. Jesus asks them, “Where is your faith?” The great faith not found in Israel includes not finding it (yet) in the disciples.

The disciples see Jesus command the storm (and be obeyed), and they are amazed (thaumazo, the same word used to describe Jesus in chapter 7). They ask the question, “Who then is this?”, an interesting contrast to the centurion’s simple faith after he “heard about Jesus” and knew enough to believe.

“But say the word,” the centurion says. Better, deeper, he believes. Jesus invites us to hear Him speak in His word and believe Him.

The Publican Pharisee (Shakespearean Sonnet)

This poem is inspired by this post.

Lord, I thank You that You are not like me,
For I am full of greed and lust and hate;
But You, a fountain flowing with mercy,
A wealth of love for sinners in dire straits.
Every penitent You will welcome,
Even the publican beating his breast;
You need no tithes of spices and income,
On a thousand hills your cattle find rest.
You prefer mercy over vanity;
You find delight in helpless, humble faith.
I am not worthy to even be seen,
And yet to me––me!––You lift up Your face.
I take no comfort but in Your esteem,
In You I find love for eternity.