Dear God
written to lead a congregational prayer
Dear God
The city has forgotten You,
You have become hidden between
interjections
Lost among a swamp of jokes
You,
Who is Lord of everything
has become a word to express
anger, disdain, and bigotry
given up for things more flashy
smothered to avoid humility
and most of all missing in the city
Where in the darkest hours,
the street lights are the angels
and hell is a train delay
Where sin is as clean pressed and well kept as suits off King Street
and gates to the afterlife are hospitals lining University
Where people go to Church Street on Sunday morning
to nurse their hang-over’s with close company
and Yonge and Dundas spills with heads that bob like fish
Confused; are we koi or conmen?
Swimming on the heat waves
Drowning in the sky scrapers
It’s difficult to care when there are so many
in this genetic pool.
Individuals
So caught up in celebrating our
differences
We ignore the one thing that makes us
similar
So quick to compete to see whose
festival shines brightest in July heat
We forget to regret our fallen forms
that are ever present as six o’clock summer shadows
that only grow longer behind us and
seem to disappear in alleyways
As much as we like to think we are salt of the earth,
melting the snow that will wash away sin,
Toronto beats in our hearts,
pulsing like the subway lines infused in our veins
We are not as saline as we think we are
As if we are astronauts, in heathen-proof suits,
waving to aliens on the moon, as they tilt their heads
Uncomprehending
How can they trust us if we cannot even trust ourselves?
God, I plea
Use us as your commodity, give us
hearts that welcome opportunity
and the grace to turn them down if need be
Just recently we
tested the chemistry between us and the neighborhood
We hope with full sincerity
that our friends won’t be annual only seen at BBQ’s and parties
We find ourselves so lost,
in our culture-colored ocean,
Pan am parasites infect it with
swollen traffic and multiplying festivities
We discovered the diameter of the world is much wider than we thought
and we feel so small when we stretch our arms out,
hoping that Jesus’ cross-taught arms were long enough
to encompass those he died for
Because we sometimes get overwhelmed
and cower back to our safe living rooms and suburban snow globes
Where we can control the chaos,
Because we sometimes feel uncomfortable among
friends who live two-day weekends
and sleep in on Sunday mornings
Give us courage to sing your wake up call
Make us proud of the gospel
that could flood the shelves of any library,
shame the walls of any gallery
expose any mall’s dishonesty
outlast any museum’s history
Because there is another city greater than this one,
Where we do not need street lights for safety
Where we do not need trains, since we will always be home
And every street will be church street
and intersections will be paved with jewels brighter than the sea.
But to see that city, we will have to wait a lifetime.
So in the mean time, we will teach
them how to use Your name again,
in Jesus name,
Amen.