Jack Pelham

He thinks he can fudge the facts
And get away with it—
That he knows what he’s doing
And everything’s going to be all right.
But the practice has already taken its toll
And he cannot see himself for what he truly is,
Even in his obvious acts of hypocrisy.
And being blinded thus far,
He doubles down with more deceit—
With bald-faced lies in response to those
Who tell the truth about what he has done.
He did not, I venture,
Get enough spankings.

Funny, we!

And not to get
Too serious
All of a sudden,
But the question arises
As to whether
God is laughing
Or not.

I have worked for decades to understand the Bible keenly while living in this messy-minded world. And the investment has surely not been without its rewards! But particularly in light of this deliberate pursuit of excellence, I do wonder just how much I may have overgeneralized about the quality of my thinking being better than that of most others. Surely I have crossed the line often, and have assumed myself in the better place when I was not.

I wonder at how I may be doing it still, and I have learned too much about myself to assume that I am not!

And I said to him, “You know you’ve changed my life, right?”

And he smiled when he replied with a dismissive roll of the eyes, “No, you’re the one who did all the work.”

There is no refuge
No escape from being seen
No way around being found out
For we have no choice in life but to act
And even our inaction is itself our choice
And while we might rather that the truth of us
Should stay hidden from common view
Our actions reveal just who we are
And how we reckon the world
And what we do believe
To everyone who
Happens to
See.

One of the most endearing qualities
Of the dear Earth beneath us
Though many will likely
Never take note of it
Is that it generally
Does not move
Except in the most
Delightfully mundane
And predictable of ways.

Many wish to hide
From the scrutiny of others
And to this end
Some quite ironically
Take to the stage
As it were
Metaphorically speaking
At once putting themselves forward
While hiding behind the mask
Of their own voluntary charades
Hiding out in the open
As they say
Hoping to be taken by all
For what they pretend to be
Rather than for
What they are
When they might have
Just stayed home
Minding to
More authentic business.

No one cares
Until someone does.

If you were to ask me
Whether I like disorder,
I’d tell you immediately
That I dislike it quite strongly.

But I realize that this
Is merely my impression of myself,
Though I feel it strongly.

And if the truth be told,
I have no idea where to start
Surveying what all disorder
There may be in my routines
And thoughts and surroundings,
And how much of it I seem
To accept quite readily.

There’s a lot of talk about whatever’s going on at Asbury these days. And I haven’t followed the story enough to have formed any opinion. I do note, however, that—quite predictably—there seem to be a lot of people who want to believe in it, and a lot who do not.