In light of late tragedies and further tragedies they enable:
Oh to love kindness
to breath with sighs
that ease the pains of life
and yearn for another's good.
Is it not a blessing to speak grace into another, to ache for
them, dream for them? In a
world bent on hatred,
doesn't mercy win the day?
Oh to love kindness
To breath words of life
and speak them to another
that they might know it well
To know the one who first
was kind, who brought it as a gift,
to bleed it, bleed it all.
What would happen if we learned to stop hating each other?
Oh to love kindness, to know it at its source.
To receive more than we could ever give, this
is the promise give; this is the gospel known.
To know it is to know freedom, true, right, and real. To know it is to know life in your bones and love in your chest, to beat with a heart of hot blood, of fire at smolder. It is to look at the world with wonder for how such a thing could be, to rejoice in its magnificence and yearn for its mending. For to yearn for the world's mending, in its proper place, is to yearn for our own. For health and grace and love.
For kindness to be shown.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Monday, April 14, 2014
A Letter
To friends far off:
My friends, how I long for you. How I am for you and wish to be with you. I think of you and hope for you in earnest. From afar I see little pieces, bits of light in the expanse of your life, and I am joyful. If I'm honest, being so far from you sucks. The distance is right and good and for a purpose, but it still sucks.
I ache for days shared, for loud nights and quiet mornings, for the sun shining in your eyes, making the moments light as the breaking dawn. I miss our feet tramping through snow and ice and grass and sand, those 'ventures with no goal in sight save the next bend, the next dune, the next crag in the icy wasteland. I miss your hands, stained with paint and ink and care, calloused with much making, eager to grab hold of whatever joy awaits on the horizon.
And I miss your voices. I miss the shouts over a winning match at the gaming table or an insane disc toss. I miss having my ears ring with your laughter, with the songs we would sing together. I miss those conversations over coffee or craft brews when we'd wrestle truth into each other's souls with the best words we could muster.
Mostly, I just miss you, you in all your vibrance. I long for the day when we can simply take in the morning light together. May it come soon.
-Zach
My friends, how I long for you. How I am for you and wish to be with you. I think of you and hope for you in earnest. From afar I see little pieces, bits of light in the expanse of your life, and I am joyful. If I'm honest, being so far from you sucks. The distance is right and good and for a purpose, but it still sucks.
I ache for days shared, for loud nights and quiet mornings, for the sun shining in your eyes, making the moments light as the breaking dawn. I miss our feet tramping through snow and ice and grass and sand, those 'ventures with no goal in sight save the next bend, the next dune, the next crag in the icy wasteland. I miss your hands, stained with paint and ink and care, calloused with much making, eager to grab hold of whatever joy awaits on the horizon.
And I miss your voices. I miss the shouts over a winning match at the gaming table or an insane disc toss. I miss having my ears ring with your laughter, with the songs we would sing together. I miss those conversations over coffee or craft brews when we'd wrestle truth into each other's souls with the best words we could muster.
Mostly, I just miss you, you in all your vibrance. I long for the day when we can simply take in the morning light together. May it come soon.
-Zach
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