We like things boxed. Cereal,
Candy, soap, gifts, and corpses.
They seem safe when boxed, as are
We. As is God and other
Potential dangers. So we
Sleep in a box, awake in
A box, shower in a box,
Refrigerate food, store knives,
Drive to work, work for hours, where
We stare each day at boxes,
In boxed lives. Boxed-in we live.
Through boxed windows we look out, in.
God, once boxed, broke out, broke free.
But we keep pushing God back,
Our Jack, popping out on cue,
To music, though it’s not fair.
Nests have birds. Dens have foxes.
God will have none of our small
Boxes. God is free, and we
Are too.
~~~
From Brian McLaren’s book, The Last Word and the Word After That.
Related Articles:
- “You Raise Me Up” (Do they sing this at your church?)
- Great God your love has called us here (Brian Wren)
- Amazing Grace by Wintley Phipps
- An Australian Hymn To The Tune Of Waltzing Matilda
- By the Babe Unborn
This work, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Australia License.
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