Category: Art, Beauty, JESUS, Poetry, Spiritual Formation, Suffering
This poem about some of the things I’ve been observing within Christian subculture in South Orange County. It addresses materialism and superficiality as a whole. It’s not meant to target any persons in particular, only to bring awareness to cultural overindulgence and spiritual apathy.
Orange County Jesus
Is Christians pretending
In a land that thirsts for the real.
If we could only see past
Sparkling Crest smiles
To eyes of despair
Hidden behind Gucci sunglasses
That hide the Son’s stare,
We might be able to stand in one another’s shoes
And dance into the heavenly courtyard
That calls our name
And reminds us why we came.
Quite possibly the proof the skeptic seeks
Is the reason we find ourselves so weak.
One provincial cries,
Is the salt in the wound of depravity.”
And a poor beggar with the heart of a poet sighs,
“The sage who aptly answers the
Riddle of pleasure and pain
Untangles a heavy heart to keep sane.”
We demand Starbucks with Karenesque perfection.
We fraternize on Facebook yet avoid those in our direction.
We drive faster to get away from the very thing that calls us.
And hipster tattoos
Are our latest fling,
Not to mention faux hawks
And Stance Socks,
And “selfies” on Instagram,
And no tan-lines,
And smaller waist-lines,
But less family time,
And gas-guzzling Sprinters,
But the homeless sleep with the fumes.
Where are God’s “called out” ones?
Why can’t we see the plastic grins pasted on each other’s faces?
The world is watching
And they’re not seeing much passion from a chosen bride with frozen graces.
Where’s the voluptuous virgin in her white wedding dress?
Do we please the One who asked our hand to become one?
Or have we flirted with materialism
And slept with social Darwinism?
Do we still excite Him?
Or does He yawn,
Observing our mundane tasks of worship?
Will He say “Enough!” and postpone the engagement?
I believe Him to be a romantic
And too much a gentleman
To leave His fiancé at the altar.
His promise is all we have;
It’s all we need;
It’s what feeds us through the week.
A thin thread of grace is what binds us,
Holding us together in a Jewish-tailored skirt.
And a legacy of love is the dance He shows us—
When we didn’t care so much to learn.
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Thanks Zach! Miss you brother…
Category: Morality, Poetry, Spiritual Formation, Suffering
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