Soil of the Divine

In late 2016, I began working on a book of poetry based upon the Psalms. Each weekday morning, I would read one of the Psalms, meditate upon it, and see what stirred in my heart, with the goal of writing a poem inspired by each Psalm. Some mornings, words flowed easily; on others, I felt blocked, but each day, I wrote. After finishing the draft, I spent a few months editing and tweaking the poems. Some friends graciously agreed to offer editorial assistance as I neared the end (thank you Briana and Cindy!). I formatted the interior, designed the cover, and ultimately sent it on to publication.

Earlier in the week, I received my first case of books. They arrived while I was meeting with 7/8 of my life group. I gathered my children to the basement and subjected them to the grand unveiling. I am grateful they humored me. I sent copies along to a few people, but remained rather tight-lipped. I wanted my mom and my aunt Sandy to see it before I went public with it. They both have their copies, so I am glad to be able to tell you all about it.

I do hope you will consider reading it. Even if poetry "isn't your thing," my hope is that you might be edified by it. It's available on both Kindle and in paperback (if you know me, you are aware of my preference). You can purchase it directly through the CreateSpace e-store or Amazon.

If you are looking for Christmas gifts for everyone you know, I would also be happy to recommend it. 😊

*At times, I will post some of my favorite poems at my new blog, jasonkanz.com

Poem: Rustling Leaves

So many rustling leaves
brittle and devoid of life.
They congregate in piles 
not long for the earth. 

Their burial clothes--
crimson, yellow, and burnt umber--
are beautiful
but retain no power for life. 

It is those leaves
who remain connected
to the Branch
in whom life dwells
and who, in return
breathe life into the world. 

Poem: Pick the Flowers

In a world of LOLs and LMAOs
of baes and YOLOs,
we have not lost our vocabulary,
we have bastardized it.
Each of us
has rolling fields from which
we choose our words.
Though some fields
may be larger than others,
all contain verbal blossoms
ready to unfold in beauty
and bless.
Yet we choose weeds--
thorns and thistles--
who not only inhibit goodness
but actively corrupt it.
In a world
of so many weeds
pick the flowers.

Kindness, Not Controversy

Cease to do evil
learn to do good
seek justice
correct oppression.
Isaiah 1:16-17

The world is filled with so much hate,
     anger is not what makes us great.
We rant and rave, we disagree,
     forgetting God who sets us free.
We look for ways to criticize,
     echo chambers providing lies.
The New York Times or news from Fox,
     we all live in a slanted box.
Closing our mouths, opening ears,
     a great idea unrealized here.
But there is too much damnable pride,
     hubris abounds, humility's died.
God hides His eyes from those who oppress,
     religious words fail to impress.
Cease to do evil, learn to do right,
     seek after justice, for people denied.
Here's an idea: get off your phone,
     battling strangers in angry tones
will never amount to culture's improvement
     it only divides with negative movement.
Look to your neighbor, say "tell me your story,"
     seek understanding, all for God's glory.
You may disagree, you might even be right;
     but harming another, is not worth the fight.
Also consider, you could be wrong;
     your skewed perspective, false all along.
God honors those who live with mercy,
     pursue kindness and love, not controversy.

Do you listen to the rain?

I awake with the rain.
Still dark, the rain is at play
I hear the drops landing gently
     upon the leaves.

There is a crispness to the sound
     like wind-rustled paper
and I immediately think, autumn.

Briefly, thunder grumbled
admonishing the rainfall to keep silent.
     "People are sleeping!"

I am grateful they persisted.

Frosty September

Pale canvas sky
I wonder why
     I then remember.
Morning’s greeting
Colors meeting
     Frosty September.

Spirit prepared
With holy care
     To show masterpiece.
God paints the sun
I’m left undone
     Will beauty ever cease?

No. It will shine
Glory divine
     The radiance of Christ.
Creation’s poem
Life of shalom
     Not decay, but life.

Empowering Grace

I try so hard
To follow God
     Hoping He’ll approve;
I fail and fail
Day after day
     Condemned by this proof.

“You are welcome.
You are my child.”
     Jesus says to me.
“You belong
No matter what.
     I’m your identity.

I choose to live
For God above
     Not to gain His praise,
I serve Him well
As oft I can
     Because He’s given me grace.

A Virtuous Trio

We look for beauty
     on a five inch screen,
surfing the web
     for the next cool scene.

But if we open our eyes
     and look all around,
in creational beauty
     God's glory abounds.

We search for truth
     on Wikipedia's pages,
trusting what's current
     not the wisdom of ages. 

But if we open our Bibles
     and read God's holy word,
we'll find indelible ink
     where *true Truth's conferred. 

We seek after goodness
     in the public square,
pinning our hopes
     to politicians with flair.

But goodness resides
     in God's perfect law,
love one another
     and God above all. 

Ancient philosophers
     said these three transcend,
all time and space
     they will not end.

A virtuous trio
     truth, goodness, and beauty,
seen most fully 
     in blessed Trinity. 

*True truth was a concept put forward by Francis Schaeffer that what the Bible teaches is not just one among many truths, but truth that corresponds to reality.

Superball

My mind is a superball
     incessantly 
          unpredictably bouncing
seemingly unable to remain at rest.

Superballs are fun
     though they aren't good for much else.

Like a toddler at play
     I move
          I move
rarely slowing for rest. 

The Father says,
     "come touch my knee." 

I resist. 
     Again..."come touch my knee." 

I do so, reluctantly, 
     but my mind still bounces around the room. 

"Look at me, son." 
     I turn to look at Him, 
     but like the superball,
     my eyes bounce away after a short second. 

"Look at me." 
     I try again to hold His gaze,
     a few seconds longer this time. 

He remains patient and tender.
     I draw an uneven breath and, holding it, look.

There is stillness in His eyes
     and love in His smile.

I relax.

How long before I bounce away again? 

Book Review: The Christian Book of Mystical Verse

A.W. Tozer is a compelling writer, whose books have deeply affected Christians for decades, so I was glad to see The Christian Book of Mystical Verse: A Collection of Poems, Hymns, and Prayers for devotional reading (Moody, 1963). However, it would be unfair to say that this Tozer's book as much as it is a book of his influences. He wrote a 4 page introduction, but the remainder of the book is poetic verse collected under several headings: adoration of the godhead, devotional meditations on the cross, penitential reflections on our sins, rejoicing in forgiveness and justification, yearning for purity of heart, aspirations after God, delighting in God's presence, the rapture of divine love, the rest of faith, the spiritual warfare, victory through praise, the prayer of quiet, the bliss of communion, joyous anticipation of Christ's return, and immortality and the world to come. I found some familiar favorites, such as Isaac Watts, but also some people I was not familiar with, perhaps most notably Frederick William Faber (1814-1863).

All in all, this is a welcome collection. Poets have a way of lifting our eyes higher than simple prose and that goal is certainly accomplished in this book. More Christians would benefit from reading poetry and poetic prayers, such as in the excellent Valley of Vision. This collection by Tozer is a most welcome addition.

I received a complimentary copy of this book for review from Moody Publishers. I was not required to share a positive review. These impressions are my own. 

A trio of poems from MISA

A Murder of Crows

As night descended
the birds intended
     to raise some havoc.
A murder of crows
their angry shouts grow
     a rageful black flock.

Dark from head to toe
all who see them know
     not to mess with them.
They control the streets
all who see, retreat
     lest they stand condemned.

Grouped voices murmur
crows planning murder
     opposing the peace.
They rule the night
when they take flight
     dark anarchy seized. 

Relative Silence

I sit in silence
listening for God
     but silence is a relative term.

The refrigerator hums
     birds chirp
          once in a while. 

My stomach asks,
     "When's breakfast?" 

I think I hear people moving,
     but perhaps not...

Watercolor Morn

Watercolor morn
I step out my door
     and gaze to the West.

Cool gray sky,
     wet on wet
stands in stark contrast
     to the ragged treeline
          nearly black.

Our minds are trained to fill in missing pieces
     --interpretively--
          blue skies
               green trees
but the Artist's palate 
     contains more color.

As the sun ascends in the East
     and the earth genuflects in reverence,
new brush strokes are added 
     to nature's scene.

Green blue and Indian yellow
     edges mystically softened.

Soon contrasting shapes and colors and edges
     amorophous scene becomes beauty
     bearing the signature of the Creator. 

Anniversary Poem # 3

Seven thousand, three hundred five
days since we said "yes" for life
we stood before God
and all who looked on
committing to be man and wife.

Anniversary Poem # 2

Summer morning's joy:

warm embrace and radiant

she is heaven's queen. 

Anniversary Poem #1

Twenty years ago, I married my bride. Not one day have I questioned that choice. In celebration, I have written a few poems to her that I will share throughout the day. Here is the first.

Nineteen years and one,
     we've only just begun.
Eighteen years and two,
     since we said "I do."
Seventeen years and three,
     since you married me.
Sixteen years and four,
     You I still I adore.
Fifteen years and five,
     our love remains alive.
Fourteen years and six,
     our bond is firmly fixed.
Thirteen years and seven,
     God's love has been our leaven.
Twelve years and eight,
     since that magical date.
Eleven years and nine,
     since you said "you're mine."
Ten years and ten,
     I'd do it all over again.
Nine years and eleven,
     life with you is heaven.
Eight years and twelve,
     with you I gladly dwell.
Seven years and thirteen,
     your'e my regal queen.
Six years and fourteen,
     on one another we lean.
Five years and fifteen,
     we've lived in this godly scene.
Four years and sixteen,
     with us nothing comes between.
Three years and seventeen,
     it's astounding where we've been.
Two years and eighteen,
     we've kept our marriage bed serene.
One year and nineteen,
     such bliss unforeseen.
Zero years and twenty,
     we've had love aplenty.

A Kingdom Prayer

O Lord,
Redeemer and Sustainer,
I commend this day to you.
You are higher than the heavens
yet, by your Spirit, you dwell
with me and in me.

You are glorious above all created things.
Turn my eyes from all that gleams and glitters
to your throne
where true satisfaction is found.

Let me live today in the truth
of your indwelling Spirit,
an ambassador of your kingdom
wherever my feet land.

Sustain me today.
Give me what is needful for worshiping you fully,
but not so much that my eyes turn from you.

The world you created is beautiful
but has been tainted by sin;
keep me from desiring counterfeit treasures
that promise satisfaction
but provide nothing.

When evil surrounds me,
hold me fast and usher me away
back into the safety of your embrace.

Forgive me when I fail you.
May your mercy be an ever flowing stream,
washing out my self-inflicted wounds
and teach me to live
with abundant patience, grace, mercy, and forgiveness
toward those who have sinned against me.

Everything belongs to you.
May everything I do and say and think and feel
bring glory to you.

marred

Brokenness, sin, and suffering
fill the world
     and my heart.
I look around
     and see sin's scars
     harming God's image bearers
     masterpieces marred
sharp edged debris
     remnants of creation's disintegration
     slice deeply
     coupled with self-inflicted
     wanton sin
breaking beauty.

The blood of Christ
     ...alone
can heal the injuries of the suffering
     and the self-inflicted
     wounds of sin
      restoring once again to wholeness
      his beauty planted within.

Poems and Prayers

Poems and prayers breathe the same air. They leave the oppressive smog of a closed mind and ascend into the rarefied air of the heavens. Each value words, sometimes even when they are inexpressible, which happens so often in prayer. But even in those times when we are mute, struck dumb by circumstance, we have the Word himself, by his Spirit, who intercedes for us. It seems we try to live life using the Bible as an instruction manual rather than a picture God's larger story.

Father, expand my senses

so that I might experience more of you.

Expand my mind

that I might know more of you,

expand my hear that I might love you more,

expand my awareness

that I might see your providence in all things.

Consider the Birds

I awake once again, 

the sounds of birds  

greeting the morning.  

For them, every day  

is the Lord's day.  

They make no distinction  

between Sunday  

and any other day,  

worshipping continuously.  

I expect birds will be in heaven,  

but here on earth,  

they teach us about  

the presence of God.  

If we attend to them,  

they instruct us in worship.  

Robins and sparrows  

teach us songs of joyous praise.  

Doves sing lament psalms.  

What would life be like 

If Christians took their cues 

From the birds? 

-July 2017

Book Review: The Curious Christian

Some books I read exceed my expectations. I thought Barnabas Piper's The Curious Christian (2017) looked interesting, so I added it to my Amazon wish list. It must have struck my son as interesting as well because he bought it for me for Father's Day. I was in no hurry to read it, thinking I would get to it at some point, though eight days later, it's done.

As I said, it exceeded my expectations.

Piper writes about what I believe is an underappreciated virtue, perhaps especially among Christians. If we are honest with ourselves, we are often an uncurious bunch. Whether from fear or dogmatism or pride, we lack curiosity about God, ourselves, others, and creation. Without intending to do so, many of us live what Augustine called incurvatus in se, lives "curved in on ourselves." Curiosity opens our posture, tilting back our heads and looking up and out with wonder, unblocking our eyes and ears to drink deeply from God's good creation. Perhaps since last summer, when my eldest daughter and I took the course Writing from Your Roots--and maybe longer--I have been been on a personal pilgrimage to live with a deeper sense of wonder and awe, though it involves intention.

If you spend any time with my wife or me, you will likely hear one of use the term sacred curiosity, something I picked up from Larry Crabb. Sacred curiosity involves showing interest in another's story and asking questions with a desire simply to learn more about that person. As both Crabb and Piper suggest, curiosity is often lacking.

I appreciated many things about this book and it likely will enter the rotation of books I read again. One thing I was glad he wrote was that curiosity does not exclude conviction. On page 119, he wrote "I don't need to give up on my beliefs about Jesus in order to listen graciously. Rather, my beliefs about Jesus should be the very reason I listen graciously. I don't need to ignore Scripture to be curious about what other people believe. In fact, Scripture gives me security in my curiosity."

As a recently appointed pastor, one of my desires for those I serve is that they would learn to actually see God's beauty, in His Word and in His world. Christians often (rightly) focus on truth and morality, but beauty is too frequently neglected; however, a two-legged stool doesn't stand well. We need truth, goodness, and beauty and curiosity provides us with an important tool.

Above my desk, I have a fading yellow Post-It note that reads:

Stop.

Look.

Listen. 

Those three words are a good beginning, and Piper's book may get us a little further down the way, but ultimately, no book or blog post will foster curiosity; we simply need to begin.

Nota Bene:

• If you want to foster curiosity, read some poetry. Don't think of poetry with disdain. Poets are among our most curious citizens. Perhaps start with Mary Oliver. 
• I would strongly recommend Christian McEwan's excellent book World Enough and Time: On Creativity and Slowing Down for an additional relevant read.
• Somewhat fortuitously, I suppose, a week ago, I wrote a poem entitled: All Life is a Poem, which I believe gets at some of what Piper writes about. I would love it if you'd read it and if it makes you curious, click on "poetry" on the right side of the blog page, and you will find several more. 

Actually

The world is full 

of fork-tongued Christians 

speaking beauty and grace 

from one side 

bitterness and strife  

from the other.  

We want to be seen as righteous 

or authentic 

or holy 

or transparent 

...you pick the word. 

And so we don the mask  

that communicates the image 

we wish to portray 

and we accent our speech 

to give Academy Award-winning performances. 

But even in Oscar's gleam 

our triumphant performances  

are still just acting,  

and not our actual selves.  

Unscripted lives  

lived off-stage  

in creation's transcendent drama, filled with  

vibrant hues and murky shadow, 

darkness and light, 

pleasure and pain, 

comfort and suffering, 

reveal the actual colors of our hearts.  

We speak of love, but act with disdain; 

We speak of forgiveness, but reject reconciliation; 

We speak of limitless grace, but withhold it from the undeserving; 

We speak of community, but exclude those who have actually failed us. 

'Tis risky to confront the bard, but I'm afraid 

all the world's not a stage 

and we are not merely players,  

but men and women  

of actual flesh and blood 

...and brokenness 

living in a Kingdom 

marred by the fall 

but being restored by 

its Creator and King. 

What true Kingdom living requires 

is not thespians,  

but actual citizens; 

not masked actors,  

but actual selves; 

not tongues that speak of love 

but actually loving people 

and especially those most disdainful; 

not tongues that speak of forgiveness 

but actually forgiving people 

as often as it takes 

and especially those who have hurt us most deeply; 

not tongues that speak of limitless grace 

but actually demonstrating grace 

not stingily, but effusively 

and especially to the most graceless; 

not tongues that speak of authentic community 

but actual community 

not excluding those sinners and Pharisees  

and especially those who most disappoint us. 

Actual life is not a screenplay 

resolving at two hours and ten, 

but enduring drama 

filled with comedy and tragedy, 

joy and hurt, 

confusion and disappointment. 

There will come a day  

when all tensions shall resolve 

and all trials are dismissed 

when we will actually live 

"happily ever after," 

but until that day 

let us seek to live  

not for the best actor award 

but with actual gospel genuineness 

spurring one another on  

to actual love 

and actual good deeds.