Sermon Notes Poetry: Isaiah 46

I like writing poetry during sermons. I find it gets me writing in different rhythms, with different words, because I'm lifting and sifting someone else's speech. I have to be really open for what may come.

For some reason our church calendar scheduled a bible passage on idols, set for the first week of the Advent season. Maybe that makes more sense than it seems to on the surface. Maybe Advent is about being open for what may come. If we have idols in our "manger," they might need to move aside.


Isaiah 46

I told you
ahead of time—
admit it,
no silver, bronze, stone
could ever hold you
like my words.

*

It's a race,
political on its face;
could any contender
be found equal
when the polls open,
chads begin to fall.

*

Evacuate your idols
see
if you can flee
me, wood and stone
totter like Bobo dolls,
wobble in the
wind.

*

I have made you,
will carry you—
get your idols off the wagon,
hop in, I'll take you
for a tender spin.

*

Greed is about
God-ands...
digital cameras,
batteries without love
multiplied by gadgets
we carry around,
feed like idols
who eat lilies, lotus,
lentils, a bowl of beef.

*

Idols stress you out.
All that running after,
all that carrying,
all that appetite
for gifts, the little silver
bracelets, gardens,
a suitcase filled
for yet another trip.

*

Botanists searched for a rare species
somewhere in the Alps— a boy
was lowered down the canyon,
his father
held
the
rope.

*

Halfway across the ice,
dusk began to sing
a coal miner's tune,
and night didn't creak.

These poems are offered for One Shot Wednesday.