On the outskirts of certainty,
Bordering the shadow of a doubt.
The obscured pathway is hidden,
Leading beyond and out.

“Don’t you dare go out there!”
“Don’t even think about going near.”
The voice of certainty speaks,
Defending the status quo with fear.

“Stick with us and you’ll be fine.”
“We’ve got everything you need.”
Suspicion abruptly arises within me,
Bullet proof conviction contains a tone of greed.

Answers, responses and retorts.
Are these folks capable of reflection?
No wonder people just like me
Are considering defection.

Zip-Locked Gospel.
Regurgitation of firmly held belief.
Behavior trips on lip-service,
Detainees seek relief.

Doctrine on lockdown.
Inmates hold the key.
Eyes blind to confinement.
Captives on bended knee.

Litmus of liturgy.
Morning rays penetrate the cell.
A sound whispers within the intrusion-
The echo of a distant bell.

Mustering the courage,
I peek with one eye on a whim.
I catch a fleeting glimpse,
The shadow of a hymn.

Bible black as coal.
Breath of Life measured in pounds.
Too feeble to embrace you.
Reluctance that confounds.

Unrelenting restlessness,
Convicted that there is more.
I released the chains I held.
Staggering out Wittenberg’s door.

Strength returned to my wings.
I leapt from my perch.
I soared above their heads,
Out the window of the church.

Toward the bell in the distance…
An unmistakable tone.
Joined along the way by others,
Deeply grateful I’m not alone.

Closer now…
the bell’s coming into sight.
A chorus of voices come from nowhere.
We soar in ceremonial delight.

The warmth of the updraft,
Lifted higher by the breezes.
He comes into view…
The Music Maker Himself – It’s really Jesus.

As you ponder your posture on your perch,
Wondering whether to come out.
Contemplate the outskirts of certainty,
On the border of a shadow of a doubt

Sacred questions,
Mysteries beyond my reach.
I stretch and strain to grasp you.
Through curiosity you teach.

Lives soaked in tradition,
The rain upon every generation.
You squeeze us like a sponge,
Reawakening our thirst for imagination.

We believe too much
Of what we’ve heard so many repeat.
Suffering silently in acceptance,
Our ignorance complete.

Experts, teachers, and noted authorities.
Blind faith without exploration they serve to guide.
Your question draws me out beyond the fog:
“Is it possible they’re wrong or their truths have died?

Questions born of you Great Spirit.
In pursuit of certainty we race.
Perhaps it’s the beauty of your mystery,
We must learn to cherish and embrace?

Unknown, Unfounded, Undiscovered.
We refer to You and Yours by name.
Lives anesthetized by routines,
Reinforce captivity to more of the same.

Transform our reluctance into courage!
We surrender to Your inspiration.
We beg you Great God of More,
Teach us to treasure Your gift of the imagination.

Walls, ceiling, floors and traffic lights.
Structural attempts to insure uniformity and order.
Surrounded everyday on all sides,
Unaware of the seriousness of our disorder.

Norms, beliefs, attitudes and media
Lenses sifting what we think we know.
Worn out couches left behind by heart disease,
Evidence of the postmodern’s new death row.

Our relentless pursuit of certainty.
How You must ponder what seems so odd.
The centuries we’ve spent defining You,
The Creator of the question…our sacred God.

Endless expressions of doctrine and theology,
Attempts to decipher the truth of Your essence.
We’ve crammed it down the throats of others,
Distancing all from the beauty of Your presence.

Blessed Mystery of Mysteries,
Never quell our indigestion.
Soothe us only as we pursue You,
Led by your gift for the capacity to question.

Majestic beauty that surrounds us,

Forgive us as we ignore,

The truth of your ever unfolding wonder—

You are The God of More!

Do you believe this?”1
Jesus shouted out.
Disciples of little faith,
Followers filled with doubt.

“I am the resurrection.
I am the life.”2
Breathe and live this truth,
In contentment or in strife.

Lazarus became very ill,
Close to his last breath.
Mary and Martha called for Jesus:
“Please spare Lazarus from certain death!”3

Jesus stayed away for two more days,
“Lazarus? He sleeps!”4
The disciples looked at one another,
“Sometimes He gives me the creeps.”

“Lord, if you would have been here,
My brother would not have died!
“Yet, God will do as you ask,”5
Martha said, as she leaned on Jesus’ side.

Mary ran to Jesus,
Her brother’s death she struggled to accept.
“Where have you laid him?”
With that, “Jesus wept.”6

They came to the tomb,
Boulder across the entrance to a cave.
“Take away the stone!”7
Revealed the body in the grave.

“He’s been in there four days!
There will be a terrible smell!”8
“Did I not tell you to believe?”9
Jesus’ faith began to swell.
As they took away the stone,
Jesus stood and prayed. 10
Confident in things not yet seen,11
The crowd’s hopes would not be betrayed.

Standing at the entrance,
A crowd filled with doubt.
God’s glory delights in belief,
“Lazarus, come out!” 12

NOTES:

1 NIV – John 11:26
2 NIV – John 11:25
3 NIV John 11:3
4 NIV – John 11:11
5 NIV John 11:21
6 NIV John 11:35
7 NIV John 11:38
8 NIV John 11:39
9 NIV John 11:40
10 NIV John 11:42
11 NIV Hebrews 11:1
12 NIV John 11:43