Category Archives: Poetry

A PSALM: LAMENT FOR CONSOLATION By Wade Brinkopf, Final Year MDiv

A Psalm: Lament for Consolation

In you O Lord, I have put my trust.

My words wash away but yours will stand forever.

There is no one but you O Lord who could feel my despair.

Take this sorrow from my heart, release me from my shame.

Reason stands but for an instance;

yet, your word stands the test of every moment.

Turn me from my pathless way,

in your righteousness I can face the unknown.

Mine is too quickly faded away in morning glare,

but, brightly shines your gleaming stream turning darkness into light.

Ever present, your right hand stands before me.

Your glorious throne to adorn.

Crush this oppressor my Lord, this darkness in which I stand.

Push back this dark deception that creeps uneasily near your truth.

Only a breath of your Word and it fades completely away.

Your Word breaks the dark; the bright gleaming stream brings me life where there was none!

A JOURNEY TO HONESTY By Carina Schiltz, 2nd Year MDiv

A Journey to Honesty

The psalmists are so honest
With the state of their hearts.
Why am I so ashamed of mine?
Why do I run away
And not allow myself to say:
Yes,
I
Hurt.
Instead I slog along,
the road covered with cracks
and I realize: so is my heart.
But I cover it up with ‘fine’ and ‘ok’
until the wound gapes open,
an ugly gash of pride and shame
that I continue to cover with denial.

I stumble up the road, a winding path,
My dreams slowly leaking out of me,
Losing sight of what used to give me energy and life.

I’m searching for who I’m supposed to be,
Or avoiding who I really am—
I can’t tell which.
They say I am loved
But I struggle to believe it.

I end up at the foot
of this mountain of
obstacles,
But I’m at the foot
of something else, too.
A structure of some sort—
a cross.
Maybe if I sit here awhile.
Maybe if I rest…

Maybe this wound will be
stitched up.

I can’t do it on my own.

There’s a healing that happens
When I name the brokenness: I am
in pieces.

I
reject
myself.

But I am drawn to this
Structure
That reconnects me and says
“no, you’re not a mistake”
And the weight lightens a little.
Enough so I stand up again,
but not by my own power.
My bent back straightens
I flex my fingers, and finally
feel a breeze on
my face again.
I see.
Reflecting on the structure—
the cross—
are the broken pieces,
a kaleidoscope of colors;
and I behold the beauty of forgiveness.
There’s nothing I did—
I just sat here to rest.
Now I feel accompanied. My head held high.
And I journey onward.

I look back over the next hill
and still see it—
a cross at the foot
Of the mountain of obstacles—
and somehow
it overcomes them.

The next traveler is there
at its foot.
I am drawn onward.

Purpose.
Peace.

A PRESENT PARTICIPLE (“ing”) POEM By Rev. Dr. Ralph Quere, WTS faculty em.

A Present Participle (“ing”) Poem
Telos
How goes this conversing with death?
Is death at the end to be befriended or upended
By a dreaded enemy’s defeating by the spirit’s working
Often when in helplessness, hopelessness or pain’s distress
Death comes as respited releasing, awaited with eagerness
Tempting us to euthanasia or suicide: both rob God’s hands!
Scripture is clear: human life is enslaved by fear of death1
But there is an antidote, not a medicine, but a person
Called Resurrection and Life2 who killed killer-death

By dying—like many soldiers—dying to win a battle
And saving others, like Christ dying & sharing His kingdom
With others. Like the dying thief and offering it to all!
For many baptizings that begin it in God giving pardon,
New birth into new living that is lasting into the ages of ages
Linking us with Christ’s dying and living, kept by the spirit
Working faith & love toward the living word named Jesus.
St. Paul admits desiring departing and being with Christ!
A suicidal death wish? No, a longing for consummating Faith,
Hope and Love through the victory won by Jesus, swallowing
Death & defanging evil! This gift just keeps on coming
From the Father’s on-going so loving the world—

Rooting in the Son’s once-for-all-self-sacrificing and,
The undercover working of the creating spirit
Bringing the redeeming power of love3 & liberating truth
Of the triune deity’s trialogue displacing death’s dialogue
With the triune deity’s trialogue of
Christ, Grace & Faith!

The Dialogue with Death recommends that the dying “befriend” death. I agree that it is important to accept death when it is clearly approaching. The “Death and Dying” movement followed the literature about the “American Way of Death” the way the funeral industry helped in physical and psychological tools to mask and in effect deny death. Many psychologists recommend that funeral services should be “grief management.” The current fad in the “celebration of life” – a half step in the right direction. However that is understood and usually performed as celebration of the life of the deceased and paints plaster saint out of one whom the family and friends knew was quite the opposite. Even the best of the saints need to be remembered as “a sinner of (Christ’s) own reddeming (ELW p. 283).

So the one whose life should be celebrated at funerals is Jesus whose death and resurrection are our new life and sure hope for eternal life. Handel’s Messiah draws from Revelations 5:9-14 for the final chorale: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain.”

Scripture makes it clear that death is a defeated enemy – it’s not a warm fuzzy friend (see the notes in the poem).

1Heb. 2:15
2John 11:24
32 Cor. 5:19-21

A POEM by Carina Schiltz, 2nd Year MDiv

This was written in response to taking the Wartburg J-term course ‘Responding to Issues in Domestic Violence’, particularly contemplating the stories of survivors of domestic violence.

self-less

my bruised and broken body
is nothing compared to my
chewed-up and spit-out spirit
self? i have no self.
Savior?
He hangs on a cross and you
tell me to be like him–
to suffer.
To hold the family together.
But most of you tell me nothing.
Your eyes tell me to be
ashamed. To feel guilty–
and again I am a victim.
The worst is the silence,
a silence I have learned to
keep because no one will
believe me,
a silence that i keep
because i know my voice isn’t
worth anything to anyone.
It’s in the silence the voices scream
“YOU ARE NOTHING”–and
point to the man hanging on
a cross. Is that my fate, too?
A call to the cops
a cold corpse–
i’m already dead, can’t you
see that?
This is no way to live–
in fear, in isolation, in
punishment for my self-less-ness.
i am no self.
i am silent.

PATIENCE By Nat Bothwell, 2nd Year MDiv

Patience lives in the unsettled places.
In our in between-ness,
patience waits.
With a word of promise
patience speaks,
and for a moment,
the hunger for something not yet
is tempered
in a savored “now.”
Patience retrieves our forward thrown hearts –
wrestling them away
from the shores of memories
yet unmade.
Until there is surrender
in the unsettledness of “now” –
Until there is acceptance
in the between-ness of “here,”
patience holds… and hopes, and helps.
Patience endures,
through the churning shadows of our anxiousness,
to the warmth of a whispered truth.
Patience enfolds us – always,
in the embrace of loving stillness;
and with a nod,
says “soon enough.”

TWO POEMS By Kirsten Curtis, Final Year M.Div.

Reflections from “American Genocide” class, Fall, 2013

WHERE WERE YOU GOD WHEN THIS ALL TOOK PLACE?
WHERE WERE YOU GOD FOR THIS HUMAN RACE?

HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO YOUR HOLY ONES?
HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ANYONE?

i am so small
compared to it all

and IT is so BIG
TOO BIG for me

i am so infuriated with the whole
feeling inadequate, ignorant, out of control

a fire has been lit deep in my gut
burning and churning – stuck in a rut
tossing and turning – wallowing in muck
physically, emotionally, spiritually stuck

What do i do now?
How do i cope?
Who do i turn to?
How do i know?

Tears of anger get me through
But who am I angry at
Surely not YOU?!?!?!?!

WHERE WERE YOU GOD WHEN THIS ALL TOOK PLACE?
WHERE WERE YOU GOD FOR THIS HUMAN RACE?

—————————————————————————

I love you God
but I am so mad
at this human race
that at times goes plain mad.

What were they thinking?
It’s obvious they were not!
Blinded by what they had not.

Wretched sin took hold
Did not let go!
It has a tight grip.
Death takes its toll.

Millions and millions lost their lives
Why?

For money
For land
For power and control
So one could feel superior
And force the other to feel low

What were they thinking?
It’s obvious they were not!
Blinded by what they had not.

What do we do now?
We tell their story.

The first Americans were here before you and me
They were robbed of their lives, their land, and their trees.

They were forced off their land, sequestered and shamed,
Dehumanized, Demonized, Degraded, Demeaned
Viewed through the lens of total depravity.

What were they thinking?
It’s obvious they were not!
Blinded by what they had not.

God help me please
To tell others
To promote justice and peace
No more covers
Exposing it all
For all to see
For it needs to be known
Before we can grow
And begin to become whole.

Only you God can help
Help us go forth
Help us and guide us
Like your light in the North.

SHE REPLIES By Patricia Schutz, MDiv Distributed Learning Student

She Replies

Let the children be fed first; it is not fair to take the children’s food
and throw it to the dogs.*

Did she catch him unaware,
in an all too human moment
of exhaustion? indifference?
It leaves us a more than a little
uncomfortable,
this prickly picture of Jesus.
We sputter his excuses,
try to soften the sting,
say he didn’t really mean
to toss her all too human plea,
and her along with it,
under the table.

But there she was.

Who could have expected
what came next;
she turned the table on Jesus.
Her heart knew one thing,
and one thing only;
love does not give up.
Call it recklessness, call it dignity,
she sent an arrow straight at Jesus—
Lord, even the dogs under the table
eat the children’s crumbs.
for her daughter’s sake,
and, if we dare to believe,
for Jesus’ too.

It’s easy to miss,
this moment when
messianic weariness—
or is it indifference,
bristles a mother’s tenacity,
and the Son of God runs smack into
the faith of a woman
who trusts in in holy crumbs.
She receives a feast,
and Jesus…
well, maybe the Holy One,
who was also the lowly one,
found what he was looking for that day.
*From Mark 7:24-30

Copyright 2013 Patricia Schutz

I WANT A HOSTA LIKE FAITH by Amanda Christensen, WTS 1st Year DL Student

i want a hosta like faith

I want a hosta like faith.
I want a faith that can’t be killed no matter how hard others try.
I want a faith that accentuates every other plant in the garden.
I want a faith that can handle the sun, but prefers the shade.
I want a faith that can move mountains or at least the walkway gravel.
I want a faith that dares to keep growing.

I want a hosta like faith.
I want a faith that someone can say, ‘Friends don’t let friends buy faith.”
I want a faith that connects neighbors over the good, bad and ugly.
I want a faith that can’t be boxed in or walled in or containerize, but grows so abundantly that it needs to be split and transplanted every few years and then split and transplanted again.
I want a faith that shoots up really ugly flowers so everyone knows that under the ground I’m growing deep powerful roots.
I want a faith that comes in over 400 varieties because every day and every moment I am experiencing an amazingly different aspect of God.

ANSWERING YOUR CALL by Donna Runge, WTS Final Year, M.Div

Answering Your Call

Today I’m answering Your call –
To preach Your word and tend to all;
My gifts I bring, to serve Your church,
To speak of hope to those on earth.

Give me strength my foes to meet –
Your words of truth and not defeat;
To calm my fears and hurts unknown,
Both through Your peace and mercy shown.

Show me Your will through truth and love –
Blessed by Your Spirit from above;
Help me to serve with courage Lord,
With mind and heart in one accord.

I seek Your guidance in my task –
Through counsel, prayers, and tears I ask;
Grant me Your grace each day to lead,
Those who gather, those in need.

With joy I come, my life outpour –
A broken vessel, open door;
Grant me Your grace to walk each day,
Each through Your words, Your truth, Your Way.

KINGDOM? by Craig Nessan, WTS Academic Dean

Kingdom?

Just on the other side of the road.
Through the thin place.
Knock on the door.
Across the limen.
In the face.
Caring word.
Lending hand.
Taking time.
Interpret generously.
Choosing not to take offense.
Including.
Jesus breaking and entering.
Guilty as charged.
Alive again.