Broken Poetry

We did it. That’s right, fearful of how we may contribute to the spread of H1N1 we shut down our water fountains at Snow Hill. A water cooler stands in front of the pair in our foyer. Paper cups sit atop the enlarged water container. One large bottle of hand sanitizer sits nearby. Clear indicators we want to do our part to keep the H1N1 and the Seasonal flu from spreading. There are certain kinds of viral strains and bacteria we hope to avoid.

Problem is we in the church consider those who are broken to have some form of contagious bacteria. No, we do not talk as if that is the case. We simply behave that way. We use language of identification sporting the notion we are all broken. Yet when it comes to the varieties of broken some are acceptable, others are not so much.

A friend of mine recently wrote a piece of poetry describing our lack of understanding for some who suffer broken-ness in our culture. These we would as soon clean up as with a bottle of hand sanitizer. In Manifesto of the Broken, Kristen offers,

Those whose minds have never broken

can never really understand-

they want to shake, to judge, to resent.

Dear God, they think they might fix the problem

with a little exercise, a diet, some will-power.

Read the entire piece here.

About the Author
Husband to Patty. Daddy to Kimberly and Tommie. Grandpa Doc to Cohen, Max, Fox, and Marlee. Pastor to Snow Hill Baptist Church. Graduate of Oklahoma Baptist University and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Reading. Photography. Golf. Colorado. Jeeping. Friend. The views and opinions expressed here are my own and should not be construed as representing the corporate views of the church I pastor.