Tinta-Ink

A menudo se distribuye desde la pluma al papel      

con poca consideración por las consecuencias

de las palabras, frases y significados que se forma.

It is often dispensed from pen to paper

with little regard for the implications

of the words, phrases and meanings it forms.

Sin embargo, cuando se escribe con el corazón,

es la sangre que fluye de la vena a la página,

y nos abre a los planes y propósitos

trascendiendo nuestro limitado entendimiento.

But when we write with our hearts,

it is blood that flows from vein to page,

and opens us to plans and purposes

transcending our limited understanding.

Que la tinta de las venas mientras forma

nuestras firmas en esta alianza,

enlace nuestros corazones en uno

a través de tu gracia

y para tu gloria, Señor;

que nuestros sueños se inspiren en el tuyo;

que nuestra misión refleje tu esperanza.

May the ink of our veins, as it forms

our signatures on this covenant,

bind our hearts to one another,

through your grace

and to your glory, O Lord;

may our dreams be inspired by yours;

may our mission reflect your hope.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Strength

(For my new friend Ancy)

It comes in surprising forms.

The powerful, agile fútbol player

is easily recognized for the way

his graceful body and anticipating mind

can bring the crowd to its feet.

Not so easily identified

is the quiet strength that comes

when the pitch’s glory has faded

and the body is a betrayer.

These less-visible powers

hold families together

in ways we’d never dream,

planting seeds of hope that will

sprout for years to come.

Give us sight, O God,

to see with our hearts,

when our other senses falter,

the many ways your strength

is manifest, especially when

it blossoms from our weakness.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Filter

Deliver us: from straining

at the gnats of our

fears, ignorance, and phobias,

while swallowing the camel

of our comfort and contentment;

from a religion that echoes sentiment

but doesn't leave a footprint;

from teary-eyed waving

like fronds of a palm,

caring not if all are fed 

with living water, wine, and bread.

Photo by Farris Ralston

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Play Ball!

Being mainline is strike one;

small church is strike two;

now we’re just protecting the plate.

Are we attempting to foul-off

anything close, hoping to gain 
a free pass; or actually trying

to connect with anything(one?)

in the neighborhood?

Maybe it’s an altogether

different plate we’re guarding;

one filled more with coins

and George Washingtons

than a representation of

the gifts of God’s generosity.

How do we stay in the game,

when faster-paced events, and activities

with measurable payback get more attention;

where shot and play clock prevail,

and return on investment rules?

How does the timelessness of faith

play in today’s tightly scheduled arena,

where pleasure is the measure,

and every window’s a mirror?

When the upward journey

reveals its cracks, and the good life

turns out to be a hollow shell

with little more inside than unfulfilled hunger,

we’ll recognize the plate we have

isn’t for protecting, but holds

the bread of life; our cup, not for guarding,

but offering living wine and water,

filling the world’s deepest longing:

to share all of our broken self

at the deepest, with neither

fear of rejection nor anxiety

over whether there’ll be

enough for tomorrow.

Photo by Maggie Beamguard

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

With My Hands

Lord, I want to feed your children

in my heart, in my heart.

Lord, I want to feed your children

in my heart. In my heart, in my heart.

Lord, I want to feed your children in my heart.

Will you show me how to feed them

with my hands, with my hands?

Will you show me how to feed them

with my hands? With my hands, with my hands.

Will you show me how to feed them with my hands?

Lord, I want to share clean water

in my heart, in my heart.

Lord, I want to share clean water

in my heart. In my heart, in my heart.

Lord, I want to share clean water in my heart.

Will you show me how to share it

with my hands, with my hands?

Will you show me how to share it

with my hands? With my hands, with my hands.

Will you show me how to share it with my hands?

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Wisdom

Do not mistake the certitude and

bravado of fools for leadership.

Neither contains value;

both are like speeding up

when lost, which succeeds

in driving us farther

into the weeds.

Caution, jump-started

by curiosity and imagination,

with deep reflection and

serious questions at every turn,

kicks up dust on a road that

might not be easy, but

will be worth the journey.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Protection

From all of the things we believe

will protect us from all of the things

we believe we need protecting from;

from words fired as missiles

in retaliation against an imagined army

with real soldiers aiming

betrayals, shame, and guilt our way;

from walls, fences, locked doors,

and alarm systems we believe

will protect us from the inhumanity

of creatures whose hope has been

so torched by the steeply stacked deck

of status quo that our possessions

are valued above our connection;

from unspeakable and escalating violence

that pocks the earth with its meteoric craters

in our attempt to force peace

upon a sea tossed by the roar

of words aimed past each other;

from a constant segmenting and scheduling

of time and busyness that stealthily disappear

like water past a leaky toilet valve;

from worrying so much about

what might happen tomorrow

that  joy cannot be released

from the prison cell 

of today's safety deposit box;

from ego that pairs selective amnesia

and imagined omniscience to propel

self to a number-one draft pick

in a game whose championship

is actually an infinite grace-fest;

protect us, O Lord!

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Always

Compassion is not fine china

you pull out on those rare occasions

when the moon of your generosity

and the stars of deserving people

align for an elegant dining experience.

Neither is it a hand extended downward

in pity, quickly withdrawn to security

when its precious cargo has been delivered.

It is, instead an everyday,

moment-by-moment, person-to-person

way of thinking, speaking, acting, living.

It is love, not just in action, but also interaction. 

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Grief

Prayers for the morning,

prayers for the night,

prayers for your loved one

who’s now taken flight.

Prayers for today,

prayers for tomorrow,

prayers for the grieving,

prayers for the sorrow.

May you always find ways to share

and give your own lives more fully,

knowing that the love you had

is not just waiting for you

at the edge of earth and sky,

but also wraps and comforts you

in every moment here and now.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Hope's Seed

When all that we hope for has been

snatched from underneath us,

we come face to face with

the seed and root of hope itself:

the eternal presence and promise

of grace. Our deepest gratitude

for this gift is expressed in the courage

and compassion to risk uncensored presence

in the midst of another's attempt at dying well;

or even to endure the pain

of  helplessly watching someone’s

unnecessarily horrible death because

their image of self could not be rescued

from the prison of its own Hell.

Prayers for all of us whose living

will enter the grave with the dead.

May their love greet us on the far side

of this deep and shadowed valley,

pulling us, by faith, deeper

into life’s joy and meaning.

© 2013 Todd Jenkins

Dinner Bell

When eye cannot see beyond I,

self loses sight of the other;

the world is a dark, cold place;

we're orphaned from sister and brother.

Consumption becomes the main function,

surrounded by layers of our stuff;

life's an ultimate competition;

everything is never enough.

Construction begins our destruction:

wall, door, lock, fence, gate;

neighbor becomes adversary,

survival is fueled by hate.

As if Exodus had nothing to do with us,

we cling to our titles and deeds,

claiming earth as our own creation.

I'm the flower; you are the weeds.

Freedom to travel begins to unravel

as home becomes the place

where liberty's armed to the teeth

and all have forgotten grace.

Are we unable to come to the table,

where wine is poured and bread broken,

where prodigal and steadfast alike,

find love both lived and spoken?

© 2013 Todd Jenkins