Saturday, July 29, 2017


Jesus left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.
Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. Mark 6:1-13 


The train was the central vein
the early morning and evenings
collecting fathers and children
commuting to another place.

My Daddy worked right there midst
 the hometown downtown conversations
never far from the pulse of things
a holy man among the shopping mothers.

It was never to be our hometown
we abiding our time there together
dreaming of running free in sand
not watched so closely and so judged.

The preacher's kids with wild friends
caught trouble when there was none
curried no favors with the local heroes
found ourselves always singled out.

Hometowns are soft hard places
bound by memory and past mistakes
the awkwardness of growing up
the desperate need to get far away.

There is comfort in seeing even God
could not change the hearts of locals
judged so harshly as a child of sin
he could never help them be redeemed.

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