Rising Water

He also told them a parable: “Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit? A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother's eye. For no good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit, for each tree is known by its own fruit. For figs are not gathered from thorn bushes, nor are grapes picked from a bramble bush. The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks. Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them, I will show you what he is like: he is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when a flood arose, the stream broke against that house and could not shake it, because it had been well built. But the one who hears and does not do them is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the stream broke against it, immediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great.” Luke 6:39-49

Rising Water

The skies have been so dark daylight
ominous and unfriendly no one walks
the streets are empty we huddle inside
waiting for the flood.

We wake to the sump pump and wind
rattling the ancient clapboards they sing
a lament in a strange tongue we pull
the covers over our faces and pray.

Waves crash like an approaching parade
relentless, forward moving pressing
towards our shelter, our home built
on deep foundations and faithfulness
Is it enough?

We wake to the daylight soft and tender
light rising to find us seeking our hearts
and our buried heads we peek out timidly
aching for sun and safety fearing
the worst.

We are high and dry despite the fury
we are high ground despite the deluge
Even as we float down river God sings
a morning song of promise and renewal
of safe harbor and warm hearth.

God beyond the shuttered windows
fights for us in our dark nights
wrestles like Jacob for our lives
sings the morning song or promise
clears the path despite the storms.