a graceful God gets lost in
translation.
To where has the heart
of this word disappeared?
Too often its practice feels
like warfare: soldiers
armed-to-the-teeth, maneuver
into hostile territory, bent on
liberating all who are not
nailed to the floor.
Rifle of fear cocked,
hand grenade of guilt ready to
toss
at the slightest hint of
provocation.
It’s hard to distinguish between
the thrill of enemy rejection
and the joy of prodigal return.
Somewhere in the struggle,
hope is traded in for security.
Escape has been touted
over joy, earning over gift,
lone, paranoid surviving over
communal, generous thriving.
© 2013 Todd Jenkins
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