Lupus?! A wha dat?!

Just another emcee who gets free. Vessel of philanthropic vision fueled by theophilic purpose.

Month: May, 2020

God nah sleep

Zechariah 10 has been my comfort. A counter to the narrative that faith is anemic in times like these. Some take comfort in criticizing rage and pretend that God can be reduced to a justice less peace. This desire to preserve normalcy, this desire to have one behave one’s self while there are knees on our necks is borne in fear. Fear that your myopic readings of Romans 13 won’t be enough. Fear that you didn’t spend enough time with the prophets. All that book learning and you never took the time to see how much God cares about justice? You look for God in your things. You look for God everywhere but the margins. Where God always is. You speak of reconciliation. You have soothed yourself to sleep with the dream of bringing together. You refuse to acknowledge that reconciliation is the repair of the master-slave dialectic. You want to be woke now. You’ve commodified woke. Prolly will commodify non-commodifying soon enough. But all of it means nothing unless you confess. All of it means nothing unless you admit you are complicit. You cannot be the hero in this story, we already have One. Our hero hears our blood crying from the ground. Our hero weeps. And our hero nah sleep.

Grandma’s Hands

You would have been 95 today.

You would have loved your great grandsons. They have your humor and your courage.

It’s been seven and a half years since you got promoted. I still randomly weep for you.

The tears have become more joyful recently.

I thought about trying to explain to you why I’m vegan now.

I think about how much I wanted to tell you I got in to a doctoral program. Same degree as grandpa.

And whenever I get really upset, and think about how you should still be here (Follett women live long, I’ve been told), I think about how tired you were. How much you’ve earned your rest.

I dreamed you once. You were young and still beautiful. With long ponytails and joy. So much joy. It’s all that comforts me.

For Aunt Phyllis/For Mother’s Day

I wish for you to dance again

I wish for you to be healed

I wish for you to feel the wind in your hair

I wish for you to be whole

 

I wish for you to laugh

A deep, belly laugh

The kind where tears fill your eyes

I wish they were the only tears you shed

 

I wish for you to remember

And feel warm

Surrounded by past moments

I wish for you to feel loved

 

I wish for you to sing

Sing a new song

Lift your head to the heavens

Remember your help

 

I wish for you to feel full

The completion of a life well lived

The ease of having run your race

You ran it well

 

I wish for you to know joy

Deep refreshing joy

The kind that puts a smile on your face

When it doesn’t make sense

I’ll do what I can

God knows I do what I can

To make it make sense

 

 

 

Persistent widow prayers

13 Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray. Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise. 14 Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. 15 And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. 16 Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. 

17 Elijah was a human being, even as we are. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. 18 Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops.

19 My brothers and sisters, if one of you should wander from the truth and someone should bring that person back, 20 remember this: Whoever turns a sinner from the error of their way will save them from death and cover over a multitude of sins. (James 5:13-20)

In 2015, as I rode the G train, I would listen to “Pray For Me” by Kirk Franklin. The message of the song resonated with me. I was a new father, living in a new apartment, and starting a new job. I needed all the prayer I could get. 

I loved how the song opened with vulnerability on Kirk’s part. His voice made me think of a wounded healer, someone who has been beaten down but remains hopeful. 

Those feelings have been fixed for me in this season. Walking with a limp but trying to lead, be an example, be loving. 

I’ve found myself despondent at times. Too often, reminding myself that I am not sick. Even though I am at risk, I am well.

Reminding myself of this, encouraging myself really, has become a ritual. Deepening my praise by showing gratitude for daily bread in the midst of global crisis.

I am grateful for the privilege of sojourning through quarantine with family. I am grateful for my job, my students, friends, extended family, and a community that still gathers–electronically–to worship.

I feel blessed in the midst of this storm. It’s a familiar place. So many days in the hospital, through both severe flares, were filled with laughter in spite of the physical pain and dire circumstance. But I know everyone is not there. I know many people are too smothered by despair to find anything to smile about.

I’ve been sitting on this writing since Holy Week. Since Lupus, I’ve been drawn to the solemn holidays that force you to consider mortality. Ash Wednesday and its reminder of how dusty we are. Good Friday.

I wanted to share this on Good Friday because Jesus’ cry of “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” felt more appropriate than ever. These words really ring in the hollowness of isolation. Jesus quotes the psalmist in psalm 22 and opens the door for all who feel rejected and alone. I believe that New York is the worst place in the world for loneliness. Perhaps one could render loneliness into solitude if they were, say, a rancher in Wyoming. But to be in a place so dense with population and to feel alone, is a uniquely cruel torment. 

 

It’s a call for us to innovate our love. Who is our neighbor and how can we be neighborly while socially distant? 

 

To love from a distance has become a critical form of hospitality in this time. We have to smile from a screen or behind a mask. This is difficult but I pray that you find new mercies everyday. I hope you discover new ways to love your neighbor. A radical love that pierces distances and binds us together. Let’s pray for one another. Let’s pray for people we don’t even like. Let’s confess our inadequacies. Confess our need. 

Pray for me.

I’ll pray for you.

Brian Mooney

Educator, Scholar, Author

The Nerds of Color

Pop Culture with a Different Perspective

Love Dance Hall

Feel the riddim.

Decolonize ALL The Things

The UNsettling reflections of a Decolonial Scientist

Lupus?! A wha dat?!

Just another emcee who gets free. Vessel of philanthropic vision fueled by theophilic purpose.

HIP Literary Magazine

A great WordPress.com site

Soli Deo Gloria

Follower of Jesus Christ. Disciple. Husband. Clemson Alum. Living life in light of eternity.

David Mura · Secret Colors

Writer :: Speaker :: Performer :: Teacher

Mommy CEO

Working and living the Mommy CEO life!

Pro Bono Pastor

Totally free thoughts from a lawyer turned pastor

Different By Design Learning

Homeschooling Your Struggling Learner | Shawna Wingert

Fix-It With Fran

All Things Faith, Family, Food, Fun and more!

black flag theology

a radical approach to theology and politics

Be Coaching

Elevating others to be their best

%d bloggers like this: