How Majestic Is Your Name (A Poem)

How Majestic Is Your Name

You bind Your glory
in a high place above
the multitudes of multitudes.
Like a yellow foam ball
and paper plate cutout
You hang the sun and the moon with twine
a mobile twirling above
our sleepy heads.

When I consider Your craftwork –
the finger painted 6am sky and
glow-in-the-dark evening stars –

What is Man?
What is our striving and work?
What is our anger and waste?
Why such violence?
Why do we grind our faces in gravel?
Why do we kill each other in church basements?

When I consider the Heavens –
What is man that You are mindful of him?
What do you care?

And yet!
You drag Your fingers through the dirt
gathering atoms into cells
binding them together with
skin and bones,
reason and feeling,
experience,
creativity,
anxiety,
motives.

What is the Son of Man
that You care for him?
You place him, for a moment,
a little lower than the angels.

And yet!
You crown him –
first with thorns,
but then with glory and honor.

You have given him dominion over all of creation –
winter white birches,
dry summer creeks,
the blue jay on the fence,
the leviathan below the depths,
the behemoth with a gun.

Under his feet You place
every creeping thing,
all that swims in the sea,
that flies through the clouds,
that kills on the ground and
his heel has crushed
the head of all our strife,
and trying, terror, and death.

We beg for mercy:

Lord have mercy,
Christ have mercy.
Forgive us.
For what we have done.
For what we ought to have done.
We’ve not loved You with our whole hearts.
We’ve not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
Forgive us our fear mongering,
forgive us our white privilege,
forgive our suspicions,
our blaming,
our excuses.

As we run toward Hell,
restrain us, hold us back,
lift our heads, and peel open our eyes
so that we may consider Your handiwork:

…..O Lord, our Lord,
…..how majestic is Your name
…..in all the Earth.

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How Majestic Is Your Name (A Poem)