Not My Jesus?

thXNYB5Y5M

I listened to a podcast called Evangibros that I highly recommend.  I encourage all to listen to one in particular regarding the confrontation of racism.  The link is below:

https://www.facebook.com/evangebros/

Why? Because it is challenging, deeply thought provoking, and hopefully uncomfortable.  The hosts, Don M. Schiewer and George M. Benson invite a very close friend’s of Don named Chris Sanchez.  I have intentionally prayed, fasted, and gratefully sat in silence in hopes to see and experience the hurt in not just Chris’ eyes but also through the rejected Nazorean.  The hope of this podcast is to invite all respectful discussion with open ears, minds, and hearts.  For the ‘privileged’, like myself, it is simply best to be still and silent.  And so I have, for many days pleading in silent prayer to combine my experiences with Chris’ knowing we are more like Christ when we seek community despite our various differences.

The first stone cast by Chris towards my already broken glass house of piety crashed in as a reminder of how oppression blossoms within Liberation theology.  Ancient Jewish perspectives, and yes Jesus was a Jew, draws Western Christianity kicking and screaming into the forgotten Jewish mindset of the blood, sweat, and heavy tears wrought by enslaved captivity.  Way back then, daily life was lined with rotting corpses pegged and tied to crosses on many Roman roads dominating this culture of oppression and racism.

I have replayed the words gracefully spoken by Chris over and over in my prayers and recognized that beautiful portion of Liberation theology within my own reality and my personal intimacy with Jesus the rebuilds the castle in my heart starting with a rejected cornerstone.  Dare we consider that all lines measurements and lines founding this church are trued from this one stone? Boldly, I say “Yes!”  I bless the words and work of Chris and will continue to pray towards a reparation for the sins of our own nation.

I cannot help but see that Liberation theology is a very human hope firmly adopted by the promise revealed at Mt. Sinai.  It was a necessary theology of hope of healing the sickness of hate, greed, and power nurturing racism both then and now. My rub with Chris came quickly in the program when he rightfully said, “You don’t have a right to criticize the how he protests nor why (paraphrasing here). Furthermore Chris’ quote preceding this the program stated:

“If your not showing up where the oppressed exists and are moving, then I’m not interested in your gospel; I’m not interested in your Jesus.”

Ouch.

Seriously America, we have wannabe Nazis parading and spewing their hateful rhetoric. When did vomiting this vile ideology that our Nation (was way too slow) to war against now require police protection at tax-payers expense for a sick minority’s freedom of speech? Chris was there protesting. Thank you my friend. Chris also said it felt good to release his anger and yelling at the wave of right hands raised in salutes to “Heil Hitler!”

This is certainly not my America…

My rub with Chris? Protesting is a double edge sword glimmering with both edges of the sacred and profane. My very needed portion of my conversation with Chris is discuss the dark seduction of protesting even he unknowingly admitted to when it felt good to release whatever brought some catharsis.  So what would Jesus do Chris? ( I apologize for what may seem as a very trite question I assure you it is not.)  The sacred consciousness that inspires Chris to protest is surely from above since silence conspires with acceptance of oppression. Yet, I have serious concerns for limiting one’s Christianity to Liberation theology.  Jesus is still doing something new. The work of this living Christ of God is still perfecting holiness within. No?  Does the end justify the means?  Does trading violence with violence beget peace? “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12)  Did not our Jesus conquer this darkness by solely trusting His Father by offering perfect love as a perfect sacrifice?

So… Do I know a different gospel or a different Jesus?

imagesCAV60KRO

His,

Chris (Clody)

 

Advertisements

Song for a brave little man

jack fineske

Jackie boy Blue
In the loving and living legacy of
Jackson Fineske

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue
Where did you go,
You’re so far away
But I still feel ya too
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue

Blue jays visits my window,
Each morn’in at nine,
He pecks the seeds,
As He looks in my eyes,
I smile and wonder,
When I last sat by your side,
Praying for miracles,
Yet whisp’ring goodbye,
Whisp’ring goodbye.

We heard you talking to Mary,
Our Mother of God,
She was holding you then,
As she’s holding you now,
Your Mama’s holdin you now.

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue,
Where did you go,
You’re so far away,
But I still feel ya too,
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue.

New drugs, procedures, cards, and toys,
Offering your life,
And hope for the next girl or boy,
Known as “Boss”- one tough little man!
Nurses named Mary,
God was watchin and He had plan,
God always has a plan…

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue,
Where did you go,
You’re so far away,
But I still feel ya too,
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue.

All through your pain,
You’d quietly smile,
You said, “Trust in Jesus
And never once complained,
You never once complained.

Lil’ Jackie boy Blue,
Where did you go,
You’re so far away,
But I still feel ya too-
Lil’ Jackie boy Blue.

By Chris Clody
3/16/17

Learning to play

violin

Your Stradivarius

Yes, I will carry your Name,
And bear Your wounds deep within.
Never will I be ashamed,
Finding Life, we lose to win,
Grace girds weakness to crush sin.
Hidden are bruises and cuts,
Visible by Your light within,
A shining that’s right and just,
Your provision is… enough.
I see Your love-not my sin,
I lift this cross in You trust,
Like a priceless violin,
Horsehair pulls sounds sweetly hushed,
My cross becomes Your Stradivarius.

Yes, I will carry your Name

By Chris Clody
6/4/17

Inner Sanctum

582749main_sunrise_from_iss-4x3_946-710

My unsuppressible and irresistible need that shadows all what my soul craves coexists in my heart. There it lies, just a scratch below social formalities, waiting to ambush all my conversations or arguments. Like a propeller silently working below a silent blue surface moving water behind me towards some future nirvana leaving my soul and flesh wrestling at the ship’s helm. Despite my understood speed and progress, the horizon seems unchanged and unattainable. Years disolve like passing whitecaps as doubt lures my attention from ahead to an above darkening cloud. I’m getting old too fast and tired too soon.
Until…blue smoke and the motor quits.The propeller stops leaving me to drift in seemingly aimless silence. Despite the ebb and ever-rocking flow of want, I am drawn to a new horizon deeper within me. My implosion inward is effortless. I am disrobing the many layers that onced defined me. Skin’s secret pride is relinquished to vanity’s gravity. Letting go of life’s ‘needs’ never felt so freeing…so easy. I slowly reduce to the size of that seed God joyfully planted in hopes of great blooms within the potting soil of my reality. Finally I am small enough to trust whatever may come. I have no reason not to trust for now my very survival is beyond my control. Trust now to dive into a claustraphobic rabbit hole that wraps and zips me up in its undersized sleeping bag. I wiggle downwards guided by shards of glimmering light slicing through a zippered smile of metal teeth. Despite the dark, the heat, the exhaustion, and nauseous fight to control my shallow breathing, I plop out onto a soft landing. I am embraced by an extradinarary light as reality’s cocoon disintegrates immediatley around me. I breathe in the fresh, cool air. Still processing the visual extravagance before me. My breath catches as I stand thunderstruck, a gawking statue at this possible reality, this Kingdom at Hand, this Christ within our midst. This vast expanse of a limitless invitation that I somehow know expects me. Here I ponder within my garden, this spacious room in a mansion, the joy of peace in an unexpected pasture. Love, is the very oxygen and light of my contemplatived marvel lifts and holds my heart and head like the holy ground beneath me. Timeless as a memory, love redefines its insatiable quest to reconcile my soul to God and to others in my path. Its wonder and awe squinting through this childlike view radiates it’s kaleidoscopic possibilities and beauty. This newfound treasure that’s somehow expected yet not quite understood. Drawn by the ever magnetizing virtue of true beauty, my gaze is held as a willing prisoner. Still more beckons as my peripheral vision catches a mysterious glow of invitation lighting a narrow path leading to an ordinary yet rustic wooden door. Nearly weightless to the touch, I push, and it swings back open into my reality. Returning out through my in door, everything seems familiar yet something is different… very different. My thoughts give life to mercy, comfort, and gratitude more often then not. Sometimes an unwelcomed yet familiar voice breaks through and like muscle memory reacting to fire, I’m doing things I did not want to do! Reconciling through forgiveness of myself, others, and in all, back to God, banishes that unwanted voice back to its reptilian mindset so my soul my re-engage the hidden dignity and lost hope awaiting it. I expect anything and fear nothing  since I am not alone in my reality walking hopefully without tire nor shame. For grace nourishes my steps from hesitation. Grace is my soul whisperer to no longer choosing fight or flee but rather accept and help carry another’s weight as God accepted mine.

His,
Chris

CANDLE_hope

Words of Wisdom

community1My close friends and I continue a quest to reach out and add to the growing ‘net’ of support to buffer against whatever life throws at us. For the once, introverted, tough nut from Long Island, realizing the ease and gift of reducing the threat of loneliness is more than a comfort to me. It is in the beauty of the compromise, the give and take, the unconditional “How can I help” request, that truly warms the soul. Listening to the experiences and coping mechanisms of new friendships, broadens my perspective on the ingenuity and hope of humanity to rise above its trials and tribulations. Despite the constant gardening required despite friendship’s rich and holy soil, a solitary, red rose bloomed in wisdom unexpectedly before our eyes. In the passing of comforting emails between friends, these four words of advice were passed along from a caring soul named Kelli: “Trust in your life.” Just be still and breathe those words in. If Christianity had comfort food, these words of wisdom would be a delightful entree.

Trust In Your Life – Kelli’s Counsel

Gift

Trust in your life,
Four words to trust
Wisdom’s light from light,
Like bread below crust,
Awaits a knife’s thrust.

Peace is our want,
Sought and discussed,
This bubbling font,
Reality’s hidden detente.

Thank you my friend,
For despair’s taunt,
In words that transcend.
So hearts may trust and mend.

Trust in your life which you are given,
One that is led, that is loved, and forgiven.

By Chris Clody 2/10/18

 Make a familiar face a friend today and reach out!

His,

Chris

…and let God

Every soul has a story… a necessary one.  As I learn to listen more deeply and gratefully, it appears we all have a space to fill at a particular point(s) in our lives.  As I listen to the yin and yang of joy and sorrow, gratitude and regret, the story of each soul searching for their identity and home is more than worth the shared bubble of trusted discourse.  I accept without judgment the unfolding of one’s history since, especially for the elderly, it is what it is at this point.  However, I realize it is not luck that a soul finally finds its true identity and waiting home.  The true fruit of one’s successful journey is in the new found freedom offered to all yet not innate to us.  It is in the profound freedom in finally choosing to trust in our True Source; Our God.  Ironically, like finding true love when we willingly give it away, freedom is found when we finally let go.

Let Go

imagesCAAULHD4

Let go and fall into Me,
Let go and fall into Me,
Cast your cares upon Me,
Trust and fall into Me

Do you hear the song of mercy,
That calls you to forgiveness?
Accept this gift of charity,
True freedom when you confess,
Come and join my perpetual rest.

Let go and fall into Me,
Let go and fall into Me,
Cast your cares upon Me,
Trust and call unto Me.

Loving you before life begun,
More deeply than you’ll ever know,
Although your sins be like crimson,
I will wash them clean as driven snow,
As mercy reigns and joy overflows.

Come to Me and let Me love you,
I Am all you need –
The One who makes all things new,
For I Am the first love you never knew.

Let go and fall into Me,
Let go and fall into Me,
Cast your cares upon Me,
Trust and call unto Me.

tears

By Chris Clody 10/7/14

Love Freely Wasted

images22

Love Freely Wasted.


True love is not a sentiment,
Yet swoons within Your surrounding mist.
Bibles misused as some proof text,
Still… convicts probing souls by its kiss.
Forgotten victims can’t forget –
While forgiveness opens angry fists.

Lord…
Can I obtain absolute trust?
Will Your Love in me truly exist?
Will Your voice humble all my words,
To proclaim a love hearts can’t resist?

If it be Your will then waste me!
For fear has never been my friend.
This heart stands ravaged to be filled –
Restless …yet no longer stands condemned.

Infuse me with love freely wasted,
Temper me in Your Holy Fire,
Let humility be my only strength,
So love for neighbor never tires.
Let my actions be Love’s mirror,
To lift a friend from the mire,
Help me become fully human,
Not what I want but what You desire.

imagesCA45NRQP

© by Chris Clody 8/9/13