The Original Manuscripts


What I need to hear

and what God wants to say

share a common gateway,

called the Bible.


But are the words

of ancient prophets reliable?

Can the exodus

of Moses and Israel

really be undeniable?


And hasn’t time

faded the poets’ intended

sing-song rhyme?


Are the original manuscripts inerrant?


Or is the Bible only inspired

when the Holy Spirit shows up?


Can it keep up

when I go Mach 10

with a battle cry that will not bend

through the gates of hell?


Is there a GPS tracking system

in my head just waiting for me to rebel?


Does Scripture—

the Rosetta Stone

of what sinners’ call “fire and brimstone”—

employ fear tactics of emotional control?


Or will it turn to stone

like the head of the Gorgon Medusa

with one look at the leaky pipes,

running Christ’s “living water” to my soul?


Or will it explode,

looking down the barrel of fear—

a paralyzing projectile of spiritual warfare—

with no time to adhere

the sound on the ground,

“fire in the hole”?


For now,

a literary comparison will suffice:

Luke’s historical account

of the life and death of the Christ

is no more false

than the twelve Herculean tasks true.


But what of the “impossible task”

of the Prince of Egypt

and his ragtag Hebrews?


For now,

a thoughtful game

of “would you rather” will suffice:

Would you rather live in a world

that weaponizes the splitting of the atom

or believe in the miracle of Moses

splitting the Red Sea

to rescue from the bondage of slavery

the children of Adam?

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24 days ago

I love how this poem tackles so many queries and doubts people might have about the Bible, but then turns it around to showcase its veracity and timelessness. The creative way in which your poems contemplate so many of life’s challenges and struggles is truly awe-inspiring.


Friends feed the inherent desire in every single one of us to be seen and heard and remembered. And that makes us feel immovable and immortal as if the universe itself came alive to witness a miracle. And nothing we say or do will ever be forgotten. (This hints at the foreshadowing of a personal relationship with the ultimate Being—immovable and immortal—who is closer to us than a brother and who created us to know Him and to be known by Him.) But what if this convivial concept of friendship escapes us?

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if you’ve dropped your keys,

hat or hash pipe

into the “rabbit hole”

of delusive fantasy,

whirling and writhing down

an eternal abyss of insanity,

further and further away

from the drain of objective reality.

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Our reassurance

is His willingness

to be caught in the cross hairs,

a red dot

at the intersection

of an atoning fare

and a predetermined time-slot.

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