Interestingly, I was making plans to go to Jamaica, and talked to a woman whose husband has done some work with Jimmy Carter's foundation. (hint: that means he's had some exposure to the injustices suffered by Palestinians and the hypocrisy perpetuated by Israelis). Turns out he and I had struck up a conversation in the airport in New Orleans. That was pretty cool. He works for Bread for the World.
So I'm here now in Church History class. It's not enough that I work out 5 days a week, or that I'm trying my best to helm a nonprofit that seems to defy direction. No, I have to be a teaching assistant in seminary. Truth be told, though -- if I hit the Lotto or didn't have mortgages on two properties, I'd probably pursue a Ph.D, exploring Tertullian's African understanding of the Godhead and his influence on the western construction of the concept of the Trinity. That fascinates me, as do many of the nuances of church history.
Lots of stuff fascinates me. I am fairly easily amused, and capable of intellectual engagement at just about any level. Anyway, here's my poem. Apparently meter doesn't fascinate me quite so much as it once did, although this isn't a horrible effort for the first attempt in about 20 years. Probably should work that craft more as well. But I think I want to work more on the bod. This link to a kettlebell class shows how very much more work I have to do. Of course, everyone pales in comparison to Harold, the instructor. Fortunately, the camera is not directly on me, but I can be seen in sky blue shorts in the mirror. This class is pretty embarrassing because I slacked off so much. I have better days than the one here, but I need to get to looking a lot better than I do in this video. I'm thinking of going vegan for lent; if I can keep my amino acid levels in check, perhaps I'll train my body a bit better. It'll be interesting to see if I can video a class after Easter and see if there's a difference in my performance.
Oh, well. The poem is below. I have lots of work to do.
In the meantime, here's a poem I wrote almost four years ago:
Reflections On Our Trip
We stood on the banks of Jordan,
Held crosses of olive wood.
We even went to that Biblical stream and
Stood on the rock where Moses stood.
We sailed on the Sea of Galilee
Took bread and wine at Gethsemane.
We saw Biblical places, mighty and small,
Feeling the Lord’s presence among them all.
This wasn’t a journey for personal pleasure –
It wasn’t about buying trinkets and treasures.
God’s people are hurting – they must be set free.
I’m joining the effort – will you join with me?
To preach and to pray, glorifying God’s Son,
Telling the world there’s much more to be done.
We can’t be complacent – there’s too much at stake.
The Lion prowls, with destruction in his wake.
God’s people have needs and we have the means
To heal, to build up – to do so many things.
To show through our actions, our words and our power
That Jesus is with us, even still in this hour.
They’re from Southern Israel: Nazareth, Galilee –
Yes, some could be terrorists; they’re Jesus’ cousins to me.
Daring to stand and to fight for their homes
Has left them appearing and feeling alone.
Guards. Checkpoints. A 35-foot wall.
Systematic, racist oppression. But wait, that’s not all!
Displaced from their homelands to this refugee mess –
Generations now live there, ignored by the West.
So now let us be ready and willing to go.
Let’s spread the news so the whole world will know
That Jesus, Our Savior, is Lord above ALL.
Let’s carry this message and not drop the ball.
Written between Amman and Chicago.
2/18/09
cgp
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