Lioness of Judah

In Memory of Mary Magdalene, Apostola Apostolorum
For all women and all who walk in the calling of their spiritual office without apology, rebuking the false prophecy of how the move of God is quenched by estrogen…

Overall, you are sweet. You give freely of your time and resources. But I have seen your jagged edges… they are quick to scathe if one does not take notice to translate the space between each word you utter. In between, I heard the roll of your low boil anger when you said, “You like using big words, huh?” Nothing primes you for irritation like the chalk board scratch of a “side piece” speaking above your worldly and spiritual comprehension. A penis ALWAYS qualifies you as the infantry; a vagina ONLY qualifies me as support personnel. Therefore, I’ve refused your invitations to labor after what you would call “the good fight” because busy work bores me. Only a true drone would be satisfied with black and white photocopies for education. The truth is…you despise my rebellion. I don’t “get happy” to the status quo. Doing a jig for Jesus is spiritually cumbersome to someone who experiences God in the silence that creates the up and down beats.  I am an annoyance to your brand of religion because I see it as just that, a brand. Riddle me this…who will give rise, quicken the leaven in The House of Bread if the Baker resigns? Do you have enough crumbs to satiate the hunger of this female pup or shall I rename myself Naomi and take a sabbatical from the land of my people? My “mis-assignment” has purpose…as an ill fitting shoe, the walk is painful but every heel to toe motion gets me there. Even your disdain works toward the betterment of the whole. ”All things work for good,” no doubt. Humph, maybe you should consider this…the resurrected Christ revealed himself to Mary FIRST; not Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John! Awe, is that an Eve diatribe I hear coming in the midst. Spare me! I assure you that your sex has plenteous representation of tragically flawed biblical characters. Shall I name a few? Nah, let’s not go tit for tat here. I have no true alt with you. The whole would benefit from our respective fields of experience, gleaning from the good in me and gleaning from the good in you to create a more perfect union under OUR God, under OUR faith. So no, I will not enable your bravado and lower my voice to a modest purr. All hail Shekinah, may she glory! I AM WOMAN… 

"There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus."   ~Galatians 3:28 

CLICK HERE TO CHECK OUT THIS LINK...Women in Ancient Christianity: The New Discoveries 

I Love The Sun

A tentative version of a poem, a psalm of adoration to all black men.

 Written with "affectionately desirous" love...

I love the sun

It dawned the beginning

Of what was to never end

A love

Made high within brown hills

A haven when all else

All else

Is at variance with him

I am made strong

With every effort to pull down fear

Pull down

What makes me hesitate to give all

Feel safe in a consuming fire

I love the sun

It dawned the beginning

Of what was to never end

A love

I look up to when

The world is in night and his rays are needed

To stir my slumber

My slumber

Is what shaded my mind

Believing that all eyes are real

Eyes lie to the children of slaves

The children

Taught to look down on their black star

And blot out his heart with the shadow of shame

 

But I love the sun

It dawned the beginning

Of what was to never end

A love

Setting where mounds

Smile a pink haze

The sacred hue of bliss

Of bliss

Extending hands

Containing the substance of life

I will elevate his bowed beam

His bowed

Countenance is made proud and free to never

Hang defeated what is mighty through our one soul

I will never again

Withhold my light in a valley low

Because a sun needs to shine

To dawn the beginning

Of what was to never end

A splendid day

He which made them at the beginning made them male and female...wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh.  What therefore GOD hath joined together, let no [entity] put asunder.   
~The Book of Matthew 19: 4-6

Speaking of Fig Leaves...

I am trying to peaceably traverse these waters...release myself to travel, to explore the full curiosity of where spirit leads without alienating those I love and who love me.  I am grounded, fixed to a specific geographic location but not necessarily in a good sense.  "Fixed" comes with underlying connotation of being trapped, assimilated.  But it is a trapping of my own making...I shook hands and agreed to be party.  So I will stay.  Plus, with age comes the marination of understanding.  I understand that sometimes it is beneficial to stay (for others) and sometimes it is beneficial to leave (for you).  No woman is an island.  And if the cost of one's individualism is the breaking of a thousand expectations then one must ask, internally weigh, 'Am I enough to equalize the cost?  Should I forfeit self, acquiesce in duty to the fold?'  I've worn your way for years and well...it itches.  Why should I wear burlap when a garment of purple silk has been steam-pressed for my pleasure?  I love you.  And I once thought it noble to indenture myself to your needs.  I didn't want to offend you...my brother, my sister.  But the older I get the more I savor understanding.  There is no honor in clipping one's own wings.  God forbid, shall I continue to ground myself, fix myself for you?

  If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.

~John 8:36

Third Heaven

^"Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus."  ~Philippians 3:12

 It's odd.  The times that I felt closest to God directly coincides with moments in my life where I felt alone.  I could feel God sitting next to me, listening intently as I prayed, patting me gently as I cried, and holding my quivering hand as I attempted to brave uncharted territory.  In each instance I was physically alone, miles away from loved ones and friends.  I miss resting in the paradox - alone yet surrounded by everything, all that is Love.  I miss knowing, experiencing each second in Grace.  Occasionally, I have the feeling of being "caught up" as Paul while in the ease of prayer but it's fleeting.  How do I attain the perpetual experience of The Everlasting?  I've tried to reach this elusive center, spiritual equilibrium at home and at church.  But I can't seem to touch Heaven's cloud - just an inch within my grasp.  If only I could borrow the ladder from Jacob's dream...

A Conversion Experience

A fool to iniquity's mirage

I fall in despair's abyss

Wallowing in the ruins of my soul

Captured

I am the devil's imp

A friend to hypocrisy's double tongue

I stand at Satan's foot

Carnal and spirit intertwined

Suffocated

I live as chaos' crook

A valued spoil for Lucifer's claim

I cower at hell's door

Begging for heaven's unfailing grace

Humbled

I was evil's next score

I called upon the beloved one

Who could season my tears with joy

Cradled in the everlasing

Saved

I am sin's imp no more

Processing a Pardon

“Sincere forgiveness isn't colored with expectations that the other person apologize or change. Don't worry whether or not they finally understand you. Love them and release them. Life feeds back truth to people in its own way and time.”   ~Sara Paddison

Step One...True Feelings...A Monologue

I have a difficult time living the concept of forgiveness.  I like to pick a part and give microscopic attention to every molecule that forms a system of pain.  I want to reach a fullness of understanding of ‘why’ and ‘how’?  Why does love go from sweet to rancid?  How does family or friend, someone you’ve known for years treat you with impartial rudeness?   I’ve convinced myself that it is a necessity to have the answer in order for my heart and mind to be free enough to move on.  I wonder, will the angst ever go away?  You know what I want – what I really want?   I want them to go to sleep and wake up as me.  I want them to brush my teeth, wash my face, comb my hair, and wear my hurt.  But wear it as skin so when they hear their words each syllable will smart like the ache of flu.  I want them to feel, feel how my skin is sore to the touch.

Step Two...Reading a Sincere Apology...Poetic Prose

Your very life is forgiveness

You gave away more than you will ever receive

I don’t have it in me to do the same

I pray to have even a hem of this outstanding attribute

It comes

But then it goes

It is a practice of will that quite honestly    

Well, some days I just want the perpetrator to be sorry

Sorry enough to feel what I feel

To choke on their tears in an attempt to swallow down uneasiness

But on a good day I walk through the ‘I love you’ in their eyes

Until I have sojourned the entire height and width of that proclamation

Filled with the depth of one prayer

Please forgive me.


Step Three...Panoramic View...Internal Dialogue

I am in a limbo of my own making - desperately pulling upward while remaining tightly tethered to the past.  And this stronghold has much weight.  I am forced to review the whole matter.  Hurt: the wanton hope of being chosen, accepted, loved.  Hurt is an experience afforded to all.  So now, I must review, take note of the four corners of perspective.  My side is clear to me - they were wrong.  But that is the explanation that my mind pieced together from the puzzle of what their mind directed them to do.  But why?  But how?  Maybe they were afraid.  The intimate realization that control over life is a figment of human imagination is frightening.  Abrupt darkness is scary.  One has to stagger, fumble through to find the Light.  But in their fumbling did they mean to step on me?  Did they see me?

"...Forgive them; for they know not what they do."   ~Luke 23:34 

    

Age and Wormholes

If I were to travel back in time ten years to be face to face with myself I would tell the girl before me…


You are fearfully and wonderfully made with a purpose.  ~Psalm 139:14~
Hold fast to the ‘local color’ within your skin and the meaningful traditions that define your surname.  Keep in good care your own sense of what is Hollow, your own God-given moral compass, your own aesthetic preferences, and most importantly your own mind.

Soulmates are not unicorns.
They are real and are not necessarily confined to the forms of boyfriends or husbands.  The first soulmates that you had the pleasure of meeting are your mother and father.

Love is sufficient unto itself.  ~Kahlil Gibran~ 
It does not require you to put on a tailored suit in a review of your qualifications.  Love finds you worthy just as you are in sneakers and jeans.

Self righteousness is anathema.
Be vigilant.  Be leery of those who carry Jesus’ cross weighted upon their shoulders only to bludgeon you with it.  There are no saints, only rehabilitated sinners.  And everyone relapses.

Pure intentions are hard to come by.
The right arm of any manipulator is charm.

Think before you join forces with any entity.
Having the right answers is not a prerequisite but having the right questions is the hoe that allows you to separate the wheat from the tare.

Forgive but in your forgetting do not allow your heart, time, resources, and empathy to be misused again.
In ten years you will have atleast ten long handled spoons.  Keep them in pristine condition and acquire more if necessary.

God is sovereign.
Know that the Most High is in control but also know that there is no shame in asking, “Lord, help thou mine unbelief.”  ~Mark 9:24~

But as a time traveler I know that such an act would disrupt the space-time continuum, the reality that allows for wisdom to be gained by experience.

 Live Long And Prosper In Spirit

To Be or Not To Be...Under The Steeple?

Will you be reading Hebrews 10: 24-25 in solitude on a park bench or reciting 1 Timothy 2: 5-6 in unison with a congregation?  Will it be church altar call or in-home devotional?  How will you seek God’s face?  Is positioning your posterior in a pew still relevant in our modern age?  According to the article “Shifting Faith” by Adrienne Samuels Gibbs in the April, 2011 issue of Ebony Magazine there is a growing number of individuals opting to exempt themselves from Sunday morning services to prostrate before God in a more intimate fashion, alone.   I love my church family but, truth be told, I don’t always like church.  I think there is something to be said for communing with God on your own terms.  Sometimes the organization of religion can befuddle the process in its efforts to officiate.  But on the other end of the spectrum – church can be a spiritual meeting ground, a grand opportunity for fellowship with God through relationship with people.  Church can most assuredly be the salve that warms the cold ache of spiritual void.  Ideally, it is a north star for the wandering soul, leading back to God’s manger. 

As for me – I’m what you would call a ‘sitting on the steps’ kind of girl.  I’m in the church house but not of it.  I don’t stand with my right hand over my heart to the brick and mortar of man.  The thing is – my present walk is the sum total of my experiences and through the sunshine and rain of it all I’ve discovered that going to church is a tool that aids but does not inform in its totality my spiritual ins and outs.  I go only when I feel lead to do so.  In my acquisition of God’s glory I unabashedly hold to Christianity without making any apologies for taking divine instruction in the sacred verses of other faiths.  Where there is a premise of Love (God) there shall my heart be also.   I believe Alice Walker put it best when she wrote, “Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me.  And I think all the other folks did too!” Prosper in spirit.     

Link to Ebony Magazine article "Shifting Faith"

Chain Me!

Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for a good dose of encouragement via email.  But when it comes with stipulations attached I get a little leery.  I‘m starting to fancy these seemingly well meaning emails as some form of a Christian hex.   Generally, the intent of these emails is benign, passing along a good laugh or words to lift your spirits.  But here’s the kicker – at the end of each you are instructed to forward OR ELSE!    Are there incantations being placed over URL addresses the moment someone presses delete?   What happens if I don’t forward said iprayer, itestimony, or iscripture of the week?  Well, your blessings get rescinded of course silly!  POOF, BE GONE BLESSINGS!  Oh and don’t forget the possibility of being plagued by a few menial curses.  Swatting away at locust as they airlift your ham and cheese sandwich into oblivion is a lunch break nuisance that one hopes will lend itself to a Passover option.  The last chain mail I received was a heartfelt prayer with a picture of Jesus blazoning in the background.  It ended with a promise to strip me of job opportunities and vanquish my loved ones if I failed to forward it to at least twenty people.  And well, I promptly deleted it.  Normally, I'm pretty tickled with this Christian brand of cyber antics.  But I must admit after this latest mouse click of good riddance I felt a twinge of worry.  I thought, 'What if?'  It felt a little too daring.  What would a REAL Christian do?  How would a bonafide holy roller handle such a dilemma?  Would they forward or would they delete?  Well, since I'm not in danger of achieving sainthood - I have no clue.  But maybe offering up a 'hail Mary' and avoiding all cracks on a stroll to Damascus will suffice in my case.   Who knows?  I think I'll do what any card carrying Christian would do.  Pray?  Nah, this situation requires a more practical tactic, a rabbit's foot with a four leaf clover between its toes lightly spritz with holy water to be placed in my pant pocket.  Yep, sounds like a straight and narrow plan to me!  

  

  

May Some Drops Fall

“Lord I hear of showers of blessings, Thou art scattering full and free; Showers the thirsty souls refreshing, Let some drops now fall on me.  Even me, Lord, even me.”

~Even Me, Traditional Gospel Song

Sweet Jesus,

            You are my quiet friend.  You have been the covalent entity of my life, my love.  And in this you maintain my belief that there is no failure in You and therefore I am a fearfully made creature in spite of what the world’s dark glass might show.  But lying prostrate and fully surrendered before your throne is to some a position of base intelligence.  But the folly of well-bred men and women is of no consequence.  They all sleep with green-flecked coins over their eyes.  To be in communion with You is esteem of the highest order.  My course in life is elevated beyond the meager trinkets of fame or fortune.

            But I must confess dear Lord my soul is heavy and contrite because I have armored myself with faith but my mail has chinks of cynicism.  I am a bit undone.  My spirit is sinking in the arid mire of a world where equilibration is a throwaway commodity.  In this world Lord, there is no sanctuary for the misbegotten.  The criminal trespass of spirit is amuck.  There is no blind justice for the rape of joy.  I live as a vagabond wondering almost listlessly amongst this wasteland of dry bones.  My Precious Savior I fight daily against the petrifaction of my heart.  My tears of supplication keep me.

My tears, my tears, O Lord are a prayer of hope for a land of plenty where there are golden parachutes of opportunity for all.  May there be no more “let them eat cake” public education.  May there be no more disappearing acts of healthcare.  May the huddled masses have rest upon the bosom of our shores.  May we live in a world where white-collar rogues are equal unto armed robbers because they have both done their fair share of maiming the lives of their brothers and sisters.  May an honest day’s work translate, in fact, into an honest day’s wage.  May the mantra “by any means necessary” be outmoded as a personal operating system and replaced with “love as a means renders love in the end.”  May women and men alike hasten to the divinity in each other and cease all power struggles.  May there be no more exclusionist religion.  May we leave this pillar of salt behind and sojourn together into God’s presence.

            My tears, my tears, O Lord seek to implore you as liquid meditations of my heart’s longing to feel the cool of a rainy day.  May there no longer be a constitution interpreted through a fun house mirror vision, ushering in the abhorrence of the distortion of truth and liberty.  May nutritious food no longer be a luxury item.  May this ole world be imbued with a keen respect for nature and in so doing have a reverence for the All in All.  May this world relinquish the desire to anesthetize itself against the knowledge that collateral damage is double speak for widows, orphans, famine, and crimson painted bodies with missing appendages.  May it be clearly understood that we are one in the majesty that is You, dear Lord and therefore to be a warmonger against any aspect of humanity is to be violently at variance with oneself.  In all matters of this world Sweet Jesus may Your Holy Spirit reign supreme.

O Mighty God, incline unto me.  May my tears be the forerunner to the precipitation of change.  May the least of us have because even we, Lord, even we are worthy.

 Amen and Amen.