untitled

shining happy faces
like stained glass
dance in front of watery
haunted windows

i thought it'd be
better by now
it'd be easier
I'd be more flesh
& less ghost

bread & juice
sits on the table
while I fill my pain with
fashionable coffee
& cloying muffin

shiny faces
like confetti
on old pews
caught in
the fire of grace
in front of leaking
scarred windows

i thought a raindrop
would disappear
in the ocean
I'd be more a part and
less alone

bread and juice
sits on the table
while i horde
my unconfessed pain
covered with
fashionable sensitivity
& modern brands

soft faces
like new hope
in an old soul
catches
light of joy
in the depths of cleansed
unglazed windows

i thought it'd be
different by now
it'd be smoother
I'd be more peace
& less haunted

Jesus as a Chick

William Faulkner said that the only thing worth writing about are “the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself.”

Here is a big, theological question that puts my heart in conflict with itself, and honestly, constantly in conflict with my God.

How does Jesus know what it’s like to be a chick? And more, how does He know what it’s like to be a chick in pain?

I was on my way home from a road trip, and a lyric popped up from my iTunes “You know what I’m going through ‘cause you stood in my shoes.” Sung by a guy with a cool ass voice, it was a striking lyric authentically stated… but it was sung by a guy.

And yep, I’m playing the gender card on this one, because it really bothers me.

It says that as Christ hung on the tree, He took on the sins of the world; that the weight of it blackened the sun and literally broke His heart.

But He was human – and still male.

Also, I get that Christ was fully divine and fully human… but either way, the gender assigned to Him is, well, male.

He could say that He understands what it’s like to be the lover of an abuse victim, or the husband of a rape survivor. He could empathize with that torment of watching someone you love being haunted by a pain you can’t touch and can do nothing to lessen.

But He can’t say He knows what that victim feels, or how she will process it.

There are several faith traditions where women take more predominant roles, the kissing cousin of my path being Catholicism. Mary, the mother of Christ, is treasured, seemingly viewed as the female redeemer of the sin woman originally introduced into the world. But the counterbalance of Mother Mary is Mary Magdalene, rumored prostitute and, like Cassius from Othello’s world, seen as more than she is because she was friendly and favored.

The Bible has fewer discrepancies between what it means to find one’s role in Christ as a woman, or as a man. Christ’s followers were men, women, rich, poor, purple dealers and tax collectors.

But somewhere between Christ breaking bread with sinners, Jesus paying a thief’s final wage and the Bible I now read… there rests the question: how does Jesus know what it’s like to be a chick?

Does it matter, in the grand scheme, if He does or not?

Yeah, we all matter to God. Isaiah says He loves us so much that He has inked our image in the palms of His hands. And His love is perfect, strong enough to be questioned and wrestled; but also mysterious and overpowering to our tiny lizard brains.

So, maybe an easier question would be: would God love me more if I were a guy?

That I can answer simply: nope. God loves us each the way we are because we are the way we are, and that’s the way He created us to be. Granted, our choices color our walk, our relationship with Him, but at the end of the day, He’s the Creator. We are the created. He could not love us more, and He chooses to never love us less.

So, back to the original questions again: how does Jesus know what it’s like to be a chick? And does it matter if He does or not?

It matters to me because He loved humanity so much He became human. He wanted to eat and joke and hang out with and… love us in a way we would understand. But He chose to come as a guy, as a being I rarely understand and can’t always relate to.

All the references to Christ in the Bible are male, and it could be argued that the gender assignment was because of time and because women didn’t hold as much power in society as men did. God should be seen as powerful and strong, and I get that.

But God created life, too, and that speaks to the female gender, not the male.

So my original question remains, given that Christ is omniscient, how does He know what it feels like to be a chick?

light in a jar

lost in a daydream

you spoke and the bubble popped

beautiful and solid

my eyes found you

my soul fell

and the dream seems pale

 

there you sit

like light in a jar

heart for good

and hands that can

change the world

I strive and try and wonder

because you inspire

 

 

what do I know of

stable and strong?

gothic memories haunt

making my hands clumsy

and my everything unsure

and yet you remain

 

like a kiss in sunshine

hope in the dark

better than a daydream

the story of mary

Scene 1: Mediterranean restaurant. Waiter presents food, distributes dishes.

Waiter: (gestures to Woman 1) Your Greek salad, fried cauliflower, and falafel. (gestures to Woman 2) Lamb skewers, grilled red peppers, and small order of gyro.
(Waiter refreshes waters for both women, dismissed, exits.)
Woman 1: So, a blessing?
(Woman 2 starts, then nods. Woman 1's head already bowed. Woman 2 follows suit, peeking to raise her head when Woman 1 does.)
Woman 1: I wanted to talk about your car; are you still without air conditioning?
Woman 2: I am, but I love my car. What did... you want to talk about, about my car?
Woman 1: Well, your grandmother has some money set aside for you, from when Bill.... (nods to the side) I was wondering why you didn't merely ask her for it.
Woman 2: (sliding lamb from the skewer, slicing it thinly, pauses) I think the short answer to that question is: because I don't trust my grandmother.
Woman 1: (blinks, her fork stilling in process of taking bite, then continues) Oh... well, I don't know a lot of your family history.
Woman 2: (shrugs, careful smile) You and Daddy didn't talk about it?
Woman 1: We.. chose to move forward in our relationships; not to look back or talk about what had come before.
Woman 2: Oh. (chews sliver of lamb slowly) Well, it is complicated and very Southern Gothic.
Woman 1 nods, then continuing to eat in carefully controlled bites.
Woman 2 takes a breath; Woman 1 looks up expectantly.
Woman 2 (smiling warmly): I am really glad you called and asked me to dinner; I'm so glad we've had the chance to talk.
Woman 1: I am as well. I didn't understand why your father never reached out while he was living.
Woman 2: (cuts piece of lamb into smaller bites, gathers a bite of pepper) Well, it seemed the healthiest choice at the time. I'm not sure that if he had, that it would have helped.
Woman 1 nods slowly, spearing the last of her salad; meticulously moves bowl aside, nearest dish in front of her.
Woman 1: I know that Bill had... friends, and there were times he was too friendly for my comfort. (sips water) But I cannot believe he was unfaithful.
Woman 2 coughs softly, sips water, stabs a red pepper and eats it.
Woman 2: This is really very good. Oh! I like that color on the wall, too.
Woman 1 glances up, nods.
Woman 1: Next time, we'll have Indian, as I thought this place was.
Woman 2: (smiles quickly and nods) That sounds good.
Woman 1 signals for the waiter, scene closes.