Strange Fire


Oh my children,
You invoke me
To your gathering,
Using words like
Worship and waiting,
Hearing and bowing down.


But I see the
Smiles and small talk.
Lists, dates and hype.
Strangeness in supposed family,
Butting and shoving
Near the water.


And I hear talk
Of power not sweetness;
Learning not loving;
Mountains not meekness;
Sweet treats not Living Bread.
And I sigh.


And I inhale
That acrid stench
Of strange fire.
“Watch me” priests
Throughout the house
Obscuring my Son.


But there you have
My Holy Name,
My nature
For the asking.
Such precious gifts.
Be lifted up!


Yes, lifted up
As witness to my
Sovereign will.
My keeping care
Embracing still,
Regardless.

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