Uncommon Baptist Pastor — Graveside

I love Stephen Price’s poetry. The honesty and vulnerability always touch me deeply. Read more of Stephen’s work here

Graveside

Solitary veterans who died alone at the VA
Tiny infants laid next to teddy bears
Friends ravaged by cancer
Victims of accidents and suicides
Beloved grandparents
old and full of years, surrounded by loving friends and family
Unclaimed bodies of aged inmates
dumped in a Potter’s Field 

I have stood by the caskets of them all
Listened to the stories
or the silence
And asked myself why I do itI do it because
Jesus would want me to
Would want me to honor these fragile bodies that we carry through this world
He honored them by carrying one Himself
And He will raise them again
to be the body they were created to be.

So I stand at the grave
and proclaim the Resurrection
Spit in the face of Death
one more time before it comes for me
And trust that my Sure and Certain Hope
is not in vain

 

And Stephen’s prayer for June 12, 2016

We Cry Out 

O God

We cry out to You this morning,

like a child lost in the mall, afraid and alone amid the rush and press of strangers,

We cry out.

Like a toddler who has wandered away in the woods,

Surrounded now by noises we don’t recognize

Our feet trapped by vegetation that oozes enmity.

We cry out.

For rape victims denied justice

We cry out.

For children frightened by the rage of parents

We cry out.

For those struggling with addictions, and those who have stopped struggling

We cry out.

For those affected by hate crimes and terrorism here and abroad

We cry out.

For those who will feed families today on what we spent for coffee this morning

We cry out.

For those whose mental health struggles have made them strangers to themselves as well as those who love them

We cry out.

For our own reluctance to enter into the struggle, for the fear that makes us ashamed of our frozen collusion with evil

We cry out.

We want You to send us a Moses,

but we don’t want to be one.

We want to be lead through the parted waters,

but we want a day at the beach on the other side, not a wilderness journey.

In our wretched, shamed longing

We cry out.

Our tears grow sticky on our faces

and our voices are almost gone with screaming out Your name

into the emptiness we’ve created.

Come Lord Jesus

Come Holy Spirit

Come Fierce Healing God.

We cry out.

Rescue us from ourselves.

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