“You’re marked.” He told me very confidently. He even slapped his knee. Sitting there on my front porch swing. “I’ve seen you in action, you’re anointed.”
This praise elates me and I grin. You really think so? He complements my poetry. Old spoken word pieces I’d recite by memory in the pulpit. I watched a video the other day and I was striking. But it was hard to view. I couldn’t help but cringe at my words. But I was passionate and reverent. I noticed how my eyes avoided the crowd and the camera. I would close them or look above and I thought, oh wow, I really believed
But I was good. I had no idea. Because when I was complemented I’d shrug and say, well, it’s all God.
Faith astounds me. It’s strange.
My cousin confronted me on my front porch swing. Earlier we were picking through my late pop’s books (like he has vegetables) and he picked up one and said, “These are interesting answers.”
He’s a theology major. Also a music major. Has perfect pitch and leads a choir.
He was holding a study Bible. Old. His. Yes, but are they good?
“That’s when I knew I could talk to you. You’re a thinker. You’re smart. But I’m telling you that there are answers.”
Consider Christ, my cousin challenged me. And see what happens.
Old church of god is long winded. He presented his case of the Nazarene so well that he cried.
“Even though it’s intellectual. You can’t deny the experiential.”
Oh. Not this. Not this.
It is something I block from my brain like a traumatic child.
But in order to get where I’m going I’m gonna have to smash them. I believe in going in, digging deep. Into this. Into Life. Into me. And you. And that it will be good.
So yes, I’ll consider. I’ll consider it all.