This is my favorite poetic first line ever written. Sharing this poem today as we celebrate all the freedoms. This poem was published in 2013 in Relief Journal. It takes a stab at our tendencies as Christians to claim free grace for ourselves then revert immediately back to legalism. It’s a picture of what it looks like when we reject our freedom in Christ and try to earn instead of receive.
Freedom
God is nothing more than a psychopath
if He is everything you need him to be—
a neutered animal hiding in the bagpipes,
some pretty floral tones of devotional cover
with stretched tape measuring your thigh in shorts,
delivering pears in foil boxes at door-point.
Breathe and let the micro-manager work
His magic. Turn wine back into water.
Free from law we must obey the rules—
they multiply like cells under microscopic scrutiny.
Sweetener in your coffee? Disposable diapers?
Bible without embroidered cover? Days of the week
without to-do? Leavened bread? What, exactly,
are you praying for, exactly?
Have you so soon forgotten your legacy—
how you are related to the last century?
There is no male or female but we know
there are always cousins. Life is an organ
which must be touched at all times by all appendages—
sweat while you play. The bricks of heaven
lay before you in the street you cross
to get to the other side. And God waits in the phone booth,
sheds the skin He died in just so you could try on these wings.
