"Captured" and other poems


I want my Bible straight! No lies!
No tonics, mixers, but with ICE!
The BIBLE's WORDS! Don't plagairize,
Or tell me past folk's OLD advice.

I don't need fancy rituals, dress,
Nor sermons ponderously holy, please;
Nor special foods, days, box-'confess';
Nor other, tawdry sophistries.

I don't need flashy 'signs' and tongues,
Nor crying statues, whirling suns;
I only need HIM! Don't you see?
The Bible's Teaching is for me.

God gifts to men His Word to teach,
So that His Son's Thought all can 'reach';
His Son Who died just ONCE for all;
Who wouldn't kneel nor jump nor call
Who used no gimmick to enthrall
But lived on Bible! through that Cross;
So teachers can make gold from dross.

God's alchemy is pure; no slag:
So Bible's language do please show.
No IQ, social lackings drag
The Holy Spirit's Power to grow.

The teacher who sticks to His Word,
Will outshine those who slagged it, see
And better still, that teacher will,
Have happiness, not imagery
Of vain men's foppish fables.

So please teach Bible Doctrine, straight!
No tonics, mixers, but with ICE!
The soul thus drinks The Lord's Delight
And you fulfill length-depth-width-height!

Abram's Pee Song

I'm just peeing, Lord,
Though I know You got other plans!
I'm just peeing, Lord
Sure wish I could see my new glans!
I'm just waiting, Lord,
Cuz You never lied to me, yet!
I'm just peeing, Lord,
For I know that
you'll make meeeee

[...then, 25 YEARS later, and after that Circumcision...]

I'm still peeing, Lord,
But Laughter is inside of my wife, YES!
I'm still peeing, Lord,
Thank You for the Thrill of my life, YES!
I'm just waiting, Lord,
Cuz You never lie, there's no threat!
I'm still peeing, Lord,
For I know that

[...then, about another 25 YEARS later, and after the sacrifice-that-never-was on Mount Moriah, which would later become the Holy of Holies! Father and son sing in unison.]

We're still peeing, Lord,
Thank You for the Gift of that Ram, YES!
We're still peeing, Lord,
Laughter and his 'Pa' AbraHAM, YES!
We're just waiting, Lord,
Cuz Your Word we'll never forget, YES!
We're still peeing, Lord,
For we know that

[...then, YET another 35 YEARS later, which is 20 YEARS AFTER Isaac has married Rebecca; she's FINALLY pregnant..but, OY! Abraham is 160 years old at this point...]

..to be continued


A tawdry cynic, moi, encased
in flannel arguments, embraced
no mercy seen, no quarter given;
I laughed at those of faith, so: shriven.

You watched me from on high and chuckled
as I, to that lone squirrel did 'fess:
"To thou, Squirrel, nigh and God, I'm cuckold--
'Tis only you twain's love I'd press
near to 'bosom, dear to soul --
Yes: only you two I would know."

Just 12 years old, then, in those pines
of Idyllwilde, encamped. June's spines
of heat! -- so, campkids trivets made --
lo, how I scoffed at that charade!

And climbed the hill, and first decided,
that since -- those tawdry folk, derided,
were not worth knowing -- 'just that squirrel,
and Thou, oh Lord. My faith did pearl.

A bit of sand it was, back then,
amidst a sticky, tarry, fen
"Which God are you?" I came to ask --
from deep behind my cynic's mask.

The next six years You answered me,
as quite indeed You always had.
It took that long 'till I'd agree --
I had to hit that apogee,
The Camus book, astronomy,
Before I'd see You --- and be glad.

Oh, I had seen You oft before,
in pain and plenty, hurt and health,
but You were Big and I, a nothing,
I, so helpless -- You, so ....WEALTH.

So I just blamed You for the evil --
deep behind my mask, it was.
You? You smiled, despite my cavil,
And led me to Your Truth: "because".

Did I do aught that You should favor?
No, I merely breathe, and so
You did orchestrate and flavor
every circumstance, to show
You're ALIVE! And now I savor
Truth of You -- which thus I KNOW.

Magic, this, or miracles' circus?
"Vision", dream, or hocus-pocus?
Yearning so and thus twist-turn?
A fancied "Truth" to sate that "burn"?

No! You are Too Good, Too Wise;
You simply made the facts quite clear;
despite my running-Jonah-tries,
and lame excuses, all my lies,
You laid the data 'fore my eyes,
and taught me how to hear.

And so, by 18, my search ended;
every faith I had befriended,
every argument pro and con,
which man is wont to argue on,
I learned and loved, and yes, debated,
only to find 'em empty-crated,
'til at last that goofy Book,
which so many fundies thumped,
proved itself in sooth. It took
a long time to admit I "slumped" --
but, then, at last, I did.

Fighting You's an occupation!
Still I see that trend unfold,
Yet Your Word, Emancipation,
Locks captivity in its hold.

You yet! give me the key, and I,
wound up! in blind emotion's pull,
turn that key in lock, and sigh
as dead Pandora's sin springs full.

Yet, as time has passed, the turning,
has a lesser, lower, burning --
rather more distracted to
His Casque of Thoughts, so Open, True,
I quite forget the key's so near!
because I am too busy learning.

More and More the Spirit teaches --
as He does, the learning reaches
round and round Pandora's box,
wrapping it in cloth-of-gold,
never adding to the locks,
never takes the key I hold,
just preserves the freedom, there --
His Word above His Name! I stare:
and so forget to sin...

The "glory" that was sin, forgetting,
Seeing Him instead, abetting
Circulating Doctrine, now,
My "glory"'s in the sin UNUSED!

YOU made it so when Christ You fused
our sins to Him upon that Cross,
and YOU exchanged depraved mind,
of "good and evil", for a kind
Which Paid our Debt --- and pays to us
His Doctrine's Heart! You us endow.

YOU hear our thoughts, and thus demand,
His Thinking be poured in our souls,
Our lives with You, with Him, in Hand,
Blessed are we whom He controls.

So every day, the key's less used,
and ever more I am infused,
With Doctrine -- Him -- am saturated
As YOU demand, propitiated.
How so Rich! Your Son in me?!
Yes! "just because" He prayed I'd be...!

Thank you, Father, ever Gracious,
for your Patience, Punishment, Care --
Thank You for Your passing over
my hard-heartedness of yore
Thank You for Him, every second!
Thank You for Him, ever more!


In Hell He came to this tired earth
In Hell He came, 'though body's girth
Was Perfect.

Twas Hell to limit Glory Due,
Twas Hell to have the Mind of Dieu
and not Peek it.

You bought me? WHYYYYY?
You paid for my soul?
Why bother? Why try?
the use of Your Own Deity?

You'd have to see all my sins!
You'd have to pay for them all!
Whether I believed in You or NOT!!!

Why, why, why, why, why,
Go to beyond-Hell - the Cross!!!
For me?

Who am I that Thou art mindful of me?
I blaspheme You daily, in my thoughts
I am the center of my own universe
Devoid of You

But noooo You Bought Me
No matter, that I might not choose You
No matter, that I might prefer Hell
No matter, that You go to Beyond Hell

'Pay for Hell, too...

For to pay for there to Be a Hell
This You had to do!
or none of us could even
Be Born.

Why? Why?
You're not a masochist, are You?

See, Lord! I am so bewildered by You
You, Majesty, Awesome Glory!
Most-Blessed Love, Righteousness!
To Whom "Praise will always be becoming"

I can't even rhyme.
Even though you gave me the gift
Of rhyme and meter
Even in my sleep.

Oh, Most Beautiful Lord!
Of 1Tim2:5!

Non possum vivere tecum
Nec sine te.

It's All YOUR Fault, God! (an indictment)

It's all YOUR Fault, God, yes it is!
that YOU give us no sign
by which we'll see with OUR own eyes
Your touted, great Design.

It's all YOUR Fault, God, yes it is
that Scripture is obtuse,
that's why we fight o'er who is right
and wrangle o'er its use.

It's all YOUR Fault, God, yes siree,
that you would make a Bible "tree"
full of sacrifice, not free!
for each soul who'd not turn to Thee.

It's all YOUR Fault, and no one else's!
Certainly not ours, oh my!
Every one whom You have slain
Every soul who's suffered pain,
Every animal who's lain
in a trap YOU did disdain
to help!
....Were it not so
They'd have been freed
quite long ago!

But NO, Oh God, You murdered them!
They just could NOT deserve to die!
Your deeds are oh so sadly written
in that Bible, that crazed lie
showing there for all to see
in a crimsoned tapestry,
full of good folks, morally,
whom you sickly lashed;
and even Your Own Son, You slashed!

It's all YOUR Fault, You know it is,
to make us thus condemned to sin!
So, thus! no matter what we do,
however many deeds, You spew
them out as dross, as filthy rags,
We give our produce! "But it drags
upon the dirt", You whine. "No win!"
Despite what works we enter in.

Oh Yes, it's just YOUR Fault, oh my,
That we who work, and REALLY try,
are nonetheless condemned to die,
while others, ho! who murder, lie!
can "just believe", and they're okay?
What God are YOU? "No God", we say!

Oh Yes, You Love us: Your Fault, Too!
Did e'er we ask such love from You?
A Love that kills, and love that maims,
so to get What? Sweet Heaven's claims?
You murder every soul: it's True!
SO, now: who should worship YOU?!

Yes, Every one! we say because
We know more than You do, that's why!
We're so deserving, We Who TRY!
We know science, we know law,
We can reason, and we claw
up the ladder, hardy, working
embracing EVERY faith, not shirking
ones which YOU would call too "low":
see? We're GOOD! But YOU whine "NO!"

Every turn we take YOU mock us,
and when we turn wrong, you "clock" us;
ticketing our every wrong,
but oh, those "saved" can vilely throng
quite happily through Heaven's gates!
So what kind of Love, awaits?
None! though we have worked for YOU!
Hands rubbed raw, with twisted cue,
marred in soul, with skin sinew,
But not a hope of payment due?!

It's all YOUR Fault, God, yes indeedy
that we're poor, and sick, and needy
that we don't have jobs or marriages;
that greed/gain no one disparages;
that we count our works before You;
clamouring that we won't adore You
if you don't reply in kind
to fit the standards in OUR mind.

You see how clear Your Judgement Stands?
We work and slave, yet YOUR Demands
remain "Unpaid!" by bloodstained hands
We serve mankind! yet no one lands
to get your Praise, or even "Thanks"
for serving those You made, in ranks.

How cruel You are, Yes! It's Your Fault!
That You would make a Christ, a Tree,
all beaten-tola: only He
suffices Your Mad Comedy;
You rule all our good deeds, "Unfair"!
We cannot add a single share?
Of our own sweat and moral faire?
To Cross or Crown? "No, NOT a Hair!"
You say.
And so You throw us all away?

How DARE You make salvation free!
You castrate all morality!
Now those who cannot make amends,
They go to Heaven, brothers, friends,
but we who slave like Martha, Saul,
are left locked shut in Hellish thrall!

And they who worked not, lillies, lazy,
while we sweated, tired, crazy,
They're rewarded, we are not!
We who prayed so LONG, are shot!
They who but beat breasts and 'fessed,
are now so OH! So finely dressed?!
But we who built goods for mankind,
sure that You MUST bless such, mind,
languish with NO drop of water!?

It's YOUR Fault! THAT is the Matter!

Why d'You make us? Why so cruel?
Why no "sign", but Bible school?
Why the rule to learn the Book?
Does it feed folks? Catch a crook?
What's with all these verses, then,
which make sense to 'toad-in-fen,
certainly not to beast nor men,
so many WORDS! not works of gold!?
What good are words, when we grow old?

Oh, Yeah, It's ALL Your Fault, oh my!
That words you give us as reply!
What belly's filled by verses, pray?
Do verses heal, and pain allay?
Do verses make men nice and holy?
Do they Please Your Sadist's Ear?
Do they satiate You wholly?
Though we're hungry, crushed with care?
You must LOVE these Words but please:
do they make good recipes?

WE CHOOSE WORKS! Our egos need it!
We don't care that He did bleed: fit
all His fetters to our hocks;
and WE will show You goodly stocks!
We will cheat a little, yes, but
We will have our righteousness!
Or You are not OUR God! Desist!
From freedom that you give to others,
sin-for-free, His Pennance covers
with no Works? Thou shalt give well, if
they, not us, are sent to Hell!

AdultSops' Fables

They think they gotta make it up
so, make it up, they do
They 'make' You be as small as they
so they can "count" toward You.

They don't see how He paid our sins,
With zero "works", yet Infinitely,
They don't see how His Thinking wins
Eternal Life, indefinitely.

They gotta 'make' You in their sight,
So blindly 'shrink' You to their size,
They gotta 'make' You 'want' their "right",
To justify them in their eyes.

So "God" must be a masochist,
Or macho, petty, tyrant-fist,
Or wimpy, gimpy, gradualist,
A sugar-daddy, Christmas list;
Or, anything but You.

The Gift of Christ is way too high,
Too easy, simple, "Western" (sigh),
Or "limited" so men may buy
The Gift, like day-old bakery rye;
Or, anything but True.

Your Righteousness they will not grasp,
The Gifted Stone's too much to lift,
Your Love is like some biting asp
To them who would cut You adrift.

A child believes You, without qualm
Yet when he 'grows up', will demur?
What child fears Salvation's Balm
Which adults treat as cur?

When we grow up, You must 'grow' down,
When we get big, You must 'get' small,
We "adults" need to 'shrink' You, see,
To make us feel intelligently,
To make our world one we control,
To make our "good" a happy shoal,
To scapegoat You for every fall,
To make You but a circus clown.

We fantasize "belief" has strings,
so "mental assent" can't be 'right',
We say some work or penance brings
Salvation to completed Light.

We say His Cross THEN's just some Root!
Some deed we do NOW cancels "THEN",
We say belief must show some "fruit",
As if OUR view of "fruit", weren't fen.

We look at others sins and drool,
We cudgel them "in love", Your Name,
We argue, rant, bemoan, e'er cruel,
A Shrunken God we gift with Fame.

We think we gotta make it up
so, make it up, we do,
You're children's fables, Santa Claus
So we are Big, not You.

..inspired by Romans 2

What's it about?

It's not about sin, it's about Christ.
It's not about law, it's about Christ.
It's not about morality, it's about Christ.
It's not about works, it's about Christ.
It's not about denominations, it's about Christ.

Christ is Gorgeous, Love, Beauty unending.
Christ is Righteousness, Justice, King, unending.

Against loving Christ, there is no sin.
Against loving Christ, there is no law.
Against loving Christ, there is no morality.
Against loving Christ, there is no work.
Against loving Christ, there is no denomination.

He disregarded sin on the Cross.
He instead looked at how Happy He was. [1]
He thus endured the "race" of sin, law, morality, [2]
By looking at Doctrine: the Word looked at the Word
and saw All was Good.

So He rested Happy on the Cross.
So we can rest Happy looking at Him. [1]
Because it isn't about how bad we are, it's about Christ.
Because it isn't about how rough life is, it's about Christ.
Because it isn't about being good or doing good, it's about Christ.

What wife prides herself on not sinning,
What wife prides herself on not disobeying,
What wife prides herself on being moral,
What wife prides herself on her works,
if she's so raptly loving her husband,
she's too busy to even think about such things?

Against such a wife's love, there is no power.
Against such a wife's love, Satan makes no inroads.
Against such a wife's love, there is no violation.

Against such a wife's love, there IS Christ:
Pressing close to her,
holding her against Him, tightly,
Loving her, protecting her, caressing her,
Drinking in her every thought,
Because her thoughts have become like His,
and He loves His Own Wife, His Own Soul.

Against such thoughts, no human effort, ugliness or limitation
Stands a chance of success. They are disregarded.
No amount of works can even compare to the beauty of such thoughts.
No human handicap can tarnish her.

Against such a wife's thoughts, there IS Satan.
He who was the 1st wife, DayStar.
He who was the head of the angels,
"husband" to them, even,
so to portray his Husband, Christ.
Whom he divorced, becoming "Satan", adversary.
The "woman scorned", he sees himself rejected unfairly by the Son.
Why, all the angels loved him!
He should rule!

So he seeks the new wife's love,
just as he did with Eve;
Seductively pressing close to her,
To gain her affection.
Attracted to her,
promising anything to get her,
obsessed with having her,
Drinking in her every notice.

Because her thoughts are NOT like his,
and he who 'loves' another man's wife,
Loves his own power:
To get back at Christ! Over Whom
Satan is Jealous, Vindictive.

Because it's not about us, it's about Christ.
No happy wife would have it be any other way.
No Decree of the Father would let it be any other way.
Because, to God, it's about Christ.

So, if it's not about Christ, then it's about "nothing":
a stupid play, full of sound and kaleidoscopes,
Signifying nothing.

What's it about, to me?
Is it about what I see?
Is it about what others see?
Is it about my ugliness?
Is it about someone else's ugliness?
Is it about my beauty?
Is it about someone else's beauty?
Is it about an easy life?
Is it about a rough, ascetic life?
Is it about problems, prol-itics, food, looks, feelings?

What's it about, to me?
It's about Christ.
"Living, Christ! Dying, Profit!" [3]

[1] Heb 12:2
[2] Heb 12:1 in Greek, compared to Heb 12:2 in Greek; both verses liken the spiritual life to an Olympic-type marathon endurance race; verse 2 shows how the Lord won it, so we can look at HIM and likewise be happy, disregarding/despising whatever "shame" (problems, sin, evil, etc) besets us."Rest" ties to "sabbath"; Heb4 and Gen1. Matt 4 on Him resting in Doctrine, and also Psalms/Proverbs with that metaphor, the idea of resting on His Promises, and the "joy" that results (i.e., "happy is the man who waits upon the Lord" verse).
[3] Phillipians 1:21, corrected translation (verse has no verbs, to convey shouting)

God's Tornado

Then He answered me, out from the whirlwind:

"I am God, you are not: what can you do, apart from Me? Should you WANT to be apart from Me?
These good deeds you seek to do: do you see Me doing them? Then maybe you shouldn't, either.

"Why don't I do them? Can't I do them better, faster, than you? Why didn't I turn stones to bread?
Can't I empower you to do all things perfectly? Then why don't I make you such a perfect robot?

"Do you know the sleeping-place of the Morning Star? Did you make its gossamer bedclothes?
Do you awaken it at dawn for breakfast, do you feed its light, to make it shine?

"Do you do well, to share Jonah's anger at worldly ills, though I Myself do not?
And Why am I Myself not angry? Why don't I fix the problems you see?
Why, instead, do I grow the gourd to shelter you from the sun?
But ah, in your worldly ire, the sun's heat blazes unheeded!
But ah, your earthly passion clouds the Morning Star --
so, then: how can you see..anything?

"Do you know the sleeping-place of the sick-at-heart,
their humility in pain, which prosperity weakens?
Do you know what awakens 'godly sorrow',
that dawning of Truth in the heart?
Can you make rise the Star of Belief,
from its nightmare of hating Me?

"Do you do well, to succor the body,
when the soul is, by body-saved, slain?
Since any work without faith is stillborn,
Since any faith without works is a corpse,
'work' to believe in Me, as did Abraham.
'Work' to learn Me. Rest your own eyes,
your own arms' labor. Rest, for it is I
Who work in you: to will, and to do.
Rest, so that others see Me,
NOT you."

I gasped, saying, "Lord, stopping, my mouth is stopped. Ask me once, and I can but murmur my guilt; ask me twice, and I can say no more, for I repent in dust and ashes."

Then He replied, out from the whirlwind:

"Do you merely nod at My First Commandment? Can you love Me, if you don't even KNOW Me?
Ask My Wisdom, doubting not: then I'll give My Mind to you, as James My apostle promised.
You are kept here to learn Me. You are pierced with the small, the fragile, and the petty:
These are your training aids. I use them to teach why I CHOSE to take all sin upon Me.
So much I love, I ate Death, which thus defeating, I became Your Righteousness.

"Learn Me! Not this world, not its choking claims on your fickle, weak attention.
For Father, with exceeding joy, baptised every dust-speck to display My Glory:
Hidden manna, unending pleasure: a feast of ever-wondrous flavors, colors.

"Learn Me, instead of your desire to blanch the devil's frenzied world.
Learn not the altruists' foul vanities, their whitewashed sepulchres.
For though dying in Me, they die-yet-living, for lack of My Mind.
They weep like the failed ambassadors: bitter, disappointed,
Their love leprously decays in their ignorance of My Soul.

"Learn Me! Please All-Hearing Father with your thoughts!
For as you learn to baptise My Word on all your thoughts,
low-or-high things, nothing-things, visible, or invisible,
then shall your soul be built like Mine, into Mine, One:
For you will never love Whom you do not know,
And you can never please Us, with ignorance.

"Learn Me! For Spirit endowers with My Mind,
NOT with any worldly, empty-headed deeds.

"Learn Me! For as Bride you are comely to Me
only through the 'dowry' of My Thinking: pure.
For the world with its works shall be burnt,
Just as My apostle Peter promised."

My friends could not hear Him clearly, so I repeated what He said. He waited while I did this.

"What," said one, "but we are to do good to people!" And he walked away in disgust, still blind to the Cross.

Then He answered him, out from the whirlwind:

"What do your good deeds do for Me? Do I need any food? Do I need clothing? Do I need shelter?
Yea, you don't do them for Me: for whom do you do them? Oh, but you do them for your ego!
Did your ego ever ask, 'I wonder how God is, today?' because you care for My Welfare?
Did your ego yearn once -- to KNOW Me, because you wanted to learn what I'm like?
Did you ever pray to learn Me? Or, instead, to 'get' a wish, to rub Me like a genie?
Did you ever just plain want Me? Did you ever set aside time just to think of Me?

"Yet it is your ego that I Myself want of you. I made you. Do you now make Me?
Do you instruct the Living God, by your shiny alms and judgemental prayers?
Indeed you do teach Me, for YOU bless and curse, then expect My Approval!
Shall you command Me whom I should now feed, clothe, shelter, aid, heal?
Shall you now rub Me, to rain on only those you feel worthy, in your view?
Is this how you serve man -- by replacing Me? For you 'pray', to order Me.

"Your free will's ego: did you ever use it to wonder about Me at all?
Why did I make the world? Why did I CHOOSE to pay doubly, for all?
Did I give you powers to heal all? And why not? What, am I a sadist?
So, then: why, oh why -- do you insist that stones become bread?

"Did I gift you with free will to squander it on people's bodies --
Or, did I gift it to you to CHOOSE investing your will on Me?
For apart from Me, your will accomplishes nothing."

The friend cringed in fear at the noise of Him. "What is He saying?" he screamed at me.

I told him.

The other two sat in silence, looking at my weakness. One finally stood up, and came over to me, sat next to me. The other one stared at the noise of Him, then also stood up, and walked over to my cringing friend.

He then answered them, out from the whirlwind:

"You, who claim to know so much: do you ever once feed the poor-of-doctrine, spiritual food?
No, for you yourselves, are poorer still! What naked man can clothe another naked man?
Mustn't the naked man first be clothed, to have any to give out? Who is your clothing?
Can the perennially-starved wretch feed others who die of hunger? Answer Me, do!

"Do you study ME? Or do you spend your vapor-trail life on old dead men's tomes?
Do you convince of grace, or do you convict yourselves? Do answer, if you can!
Do you defend all your rituals and your histories, slapping My Name on them,
smiling smugly in triumph? Answer Me, if you dare: while you yet have time.

"So you tell others, 'Don't steal', but then you steal your own wills from Me,
obsessed with earthly things? Do you thus serve? Are you not more guilty?
"For you teach that you, not I, must clothe even the lillies of the field!
Thus I am forever accursed through your stingy accounting of My Word.

"You lay Me away, in a napkin! See how you feed My hungry sheep:
Oh, you feed them constant movement and emotion,
Oh, you feed them grandiose rituals and intonings,
You only teach the dead to bury their own dead.
Why seek to be stoned, among those still living?
Why seed them dead works, not Living Word?
You, who sow such false alms about Me,
with sweaty palms and dried-up souls!
You, you cows of Bashan --
You have your reward."

The friend who'd sat by me heard all this. He explained to the two sitting afar off.

They did not believe him.

Then He answered us, out from the dining whirlwind:

"Be Still, and know that I am God. Be content, and know that I am the LORD.
For not even the lilly has escaped My Attention, My Profit, My Love.
How much more, then, will I clothe and feed the little-faiths,
To signify My Own Joy -- to Beloved Father!

"So: run the thought-race set before you!
Not some earthy-man's 'race', but MY RACE.
For you are now MY RACE, not another man's.
As I ran, so should you. LEARN FROM MY KENOSIS.
I forewent what I could do apart from My Father.
So also should you. LEARN FROM MY KENOSIS.
I ran alone. For Father. To Father.
Not 'the world.
Think My Thoughts!
Not the world's.

"Please Father with My Thoughts!
For your 'portion' is solely in Me, even as I am in you.
For you are become MY inheritance, My Eternal Bride:
Holy Priests, for Father! Dedicated in every thought!
Grasp this eternal prize! Endure training in My Mind, to inherit the-all-things He gave Me.
Learn Me, so that your inheritance will not be stunted by the world's puny idea of 'good'.
Box as Paul did, not with the world's hot air,
but so to bring every thought into captivity,
Subdue the body's me-be-god do-goods,
that legacy from Adam,
which is apart from Me.

"For what can you give Father, but your free-will thinking? Does He need food, clothing, shelter?
What can you give Him, but your free-will thinking? Can He not do all else, but coerce you?
Yea, but 'keep thinking this in you, which was also in Christ Jesus' ..thinking, not doing.
Lay aside your doing, even as I laid aside My Privileges as God,
To learn the fruit of praise, the thinking of Love --
Apart from the world's mandrakes.

"What, is My Arm too short? Can I not reward the world,
from My Father's Pleasure at hearing your learning Me?
Shall I not sustain the world, BECAUSE you learn Me?
Did not Father reward the world with life due to Me?
Shall I not thus reward the world, due to My Bride?
And can I not do a better job of rewarding,
than your measly arms could ever do?
For you are kept here to learn Me,
but not the world's altruisms.
The Bride need not dally
with false christs."

The two sitting afar off heard Him, then. We did not have to explain anything to them, for they themselves understood Him.

Then He spoke tenderly, out from the delicious breeze:

"I bless and I curse:
none but I do these things.
I will have mercy
on whom I will have mercy.
Mercy I have on all,
as I proved on the Cross.

"Be not little-faiths.
I bless to bless, and I curse to bless, also:
for the heart, only I know its seared, scarred, secrets.
Only I can sew together, and that healing raphah I Myself authored --
For Father's Sake. For you, for all..for Father's Sake.

"Let Me instruct you when and if you should do aught for another.
Be in Me! Not apart. What, do you want a divorce?
For apart from Me, what can you do, but evil?
Can a man do aught but stumble, in the dark?
Learn Me, instead. Feed daily on My Word.
Learn to delight yourselves in My Fatness.
Let My Spirit fatten you first with My Word,
So that you come to display My Feast for Father.
let Me handle those other hearts and bodies, too:
Whose sleeping sickness you can neither diagnose, nor cure.

"Learn Me: Shall I leave you bereft?
Didn't James my servant warn you,
'Faith without works is dead'?
So lay aside faith in your eyes.
Work at learning Me, My Way.
'For My Ways are not your ways,
nor My Thoughts your thoughts':
How then can you but drink evil,
until your ways and thoughts
Are refilled -- with My Own?
What, shall I make war against you also,
or shall I reward the world by giving you greater grace,
because you heeded my slave James, and drank My Wisdom?

"Learn Me. I shall care for the hating-and-tawdry,
the narrow-and-uninterested world,
which only gets Father's Blessing,
when He 'eats' My Childrens' learning.
For He never delights in sacrifice,
but in the Body He prepares: My Bride.

Learn Me, so to have rapport, as One.
Learn My Mind, and I shall instruct you.
Learn Me! What, are precious stones, man-made?
So agathos cannot come from flesh'd pursuits.
For it is you I saved, not your works.
For it is you I saved, not your flesh.
For it is them I would save, not their deeds.
What, don't I make all, solve all.. with a Word?
What, won't I make a 'miracle' of YOU?
So, then: My 'slowness' has purpose.
Be still, and know that I am God.
Be My Bride, not the world's concubine.
For you constitute My Bride, even now,
while the world may spurn My Loving Call.

So Endower yourselves with every rich gemstone,
My Thinking! securely in escrow, for you:
let Spirit do His Work,
arming you with 'every spiritual blessing',
free of worldly stubble, dross.
Accouter yourselves, put on Me!
Don My Wedding Robes!
Not earthly, fetid, jades.
For just as John, My apostle, instructed,
and just as Paul, My apostle, explained,
Yea, just as Peter, My apostle, has taught:
'Grow in grace, and in the knowledge'
of ME! Not 'the works-to-be-burnt world.
of ME! Not 'dead-men's tome-y councils,
of ME! Not 'body-slaving, mystic deeds,
which choke the soul's thirst to know Me.

"Become Fit Bride within yourselves! Seek first My Kingdom-of-Thinking, which IS Righteousness,
and all these things will be added unto them -- for one must see the soul, to heal it.

"Do you yet hear?
Do you not yet know?
Do you not yet see My Aid?
Mockers are allowed to live, because you do!
And why do you live? Was it not because I do?
And why do you live now? To serve Father
On My behalf, while He makes those who hate Me
the Footstool of My Feet.

Happinesses to him who counts it joy to learn Me,
to be Evidence ou Blepomenon of learning Me,
becoming weak, laying aside his own 'glory',
depending on Spirit, not his own 'strength',
resisting the Tempter's counterfeit good:
To him I grant the Crown of Life,
to rule those who hated learning Me:
As if I were too boring to know,
a Crusted Book of Yawning,
Weakly lain down in a napkin.

As did My friend Abraham and My slave Paul,
You yourselves, Learn Me!
Watch what great works I Myself shall make of you --
greater deeds than you could ever ask or even imagine.
For Great is this mystery: just as I saved the world by ignoring it, though in its midst,
and concentrated instead on the Word -- so to think, and please the All-Hearing Father --
So also you come to salt the earth as you learn My Mind, to exhale My Sweet Savor.

What works of Mine saved you? Could Father make it plainer I did nothing?
Nailed, unmoving, what works could My arms even do?
Wasn't it the 'blood' of My Thinking, which atoned?
Did I have anything else to offer?
But no, I was Lamb, a tola-worm,
The Substitute: Imputed and Judged,
with the blows of the petty, the small,
the fragile -- mankind's sins.
So what did I 'do'? I THOUGHT.
Oneness is a thinking, if ye did but know.

"What else can one offer Almighty, Holy, Needing-Nothing God?
So also My Thinking in you provides the world with blessing.
For who else can warrant the Father's Expressed Pleasure?
He imputed and judged all sin on Me, completing Salvation.
So, He imputes and judges all blessing ..FOR Me.
So be IN Me, think My Thoughts!
Nail your arms,
lest they move alone,
to do hollow deeds
the world alone applauds."

At this, the other two stood up and came over to our side. Still, they remained silent. We sat as four points on a compass, mute.

He ceased speaking. We then stood up, and each went our own way.