Poems

Here I was— thinking I was one of a tiny minority, working to love God with all my heart and soul and mind, and my neighbor as myself— struggling valiantly against incredible and almost overwhelming odds: until divine Love, in its gentle, irresistible way, penetrated the crumbling walls with tender rebuke: "If you love God as much as you profess, how can you believe He could produce an idea resistant to Himself? And if you really love your neighbor as yourself, how can you see an antagonist?" Chastened, humbled, I gladly rejoined the majority — all, in Mind, under the government of God.

(Storms are times of prayer for many. The following poem was inspired by the author's prayers during and after a hurricane in his home state.

As my freshly whetted kitchen knife will Slice tomorrow's breakfast fruit twice as easily As the same one dull, So Christian Science treatment prepares me For each day, letting Christ, Truth, tenderly and swiftly Peel away the mortal view of things and cut right through To the essential, divine standpoint that heals. Sharpened now, by the grace of Spirit, I refuse To believe the pointless lie of life in matter and see instead With Soul's sweet clarity, My life and all being in God, beloved.

This poem offers quick snapshots, as it were, of the process of learning in Christian Science. If the lighting and framing are somewhat unusual, the portrait is nevertheless genuine and sincere in its informality.

Coming freshly to this meal, this Christly banquet, feast of Soul, prepared by Love for morning disciples— breakfasting in the spirit of curiosity, hanging on the edge of expectancy, turning the eager page ready to mint coinage in a new currency (supple, pliable coins, designed for the marketplace of ideas not items, for the exchange of thoughts not things)— what preparation of the heart takes place, what humbling, meeking, overturning, stirring, waking, quickening, clearing, listening, hearing, feeling, knowing, clear discerning!

Not just a collection of familiar, oft-read passages, half-remembered and occasionally used during the speeding hours of a busy day; but— the thing most needed, exceeding in significance all we think is waiting for our attention. These words, the Word.

I know that where you are God is, Since He is everywhere. And being everywhere, He is where I am, too.

Waves do not compete. In the least of lives moves something startling, fond, that cannot lose, that does not seek to win— something that succeeds as waves succeed in blossoming on the sand.

Hello. I am your Church.

These things may happen: in far places where nobody knows your name a cherished coat may be stripped off and lonely cells become the recompense for righteousness. Dark thoughts, detailing grief or guilt, may shout but will not bring deliverance.