Faith. Love. Resistance.
Helpless.
That’s how this feels,
as jackbooted thugs
pummel faces with fists,
knees,
bullets.
And so I kneel
asking for the miracle
that will awaken your Church,
that silent behemoth that sleeps
beneath the din
(so enraptured with civility)
(or else captured by anti-Christ)
to rise once more
and shake the world
with love, faith,
and strong determination.
Perhaps we are not
helpless after all.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent
A Meditation on Mark 14:1-9
I’m not going to stop evil.
Not entirely.
I mean, who ever did?
It’s like perpetual motion,
a machine that won’t stop.
A devouring, raging brute,
clawing its way from age to age.
I read the signs, my heart flutters
to history’s latest frenzy.
Things fall apart, as Yeats observed.
All I can do is break my flask,
offer my libation,
proffer my resistance,
pour out my love,
as small and meaningless
as these may seem.
But at least He will know.
At least the fragrance
will fill the room –
if only for a moment.
What good will it possibly do?
Perhaps no more than a fleeting respite.
Or, perhaps, by God’s grace,
all the good in the world.
Time will tell.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent
