The last decade or so I spent a lot of time critiquing my spiritual formation. I've written dozens of poems tearing down theology that I used to believe, but now I find to be dangerously flawed. It has been very important work for me. And because of this work, I've found that I'm ready to explore which parts of my spiritual formation have remained with me in a deeply positive way. I loved my childhood, and I love who I am, and who I am growing to be. I feel true gratitude for everyone and everything that's shaped and supported me. Including, it turns out, small town American conservative Christianity.
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before I've even begun, I know
this poem will drift into cliches
the majesty of the mystical
is vague by nature
elusive buttercup caught on the breeze
hint of yellow pulling my peripheral
that divine lemon flash
all around and never fully digested
this is a thank you
to small town Christianity
training wheel structure
teaching basic appreciation for the soul
ghostly goddess, so shy
had to learn all the rules
oh the game! endless hide
and seek! such simple guidelines to start:
the answer's always "Jesus"!
my love for humanity began there
tender golden sprout sneaking toward Light
learning songs and compassion
we all thought I was daffodil
honey-sweet, simply following
sun-patterns, etched sky laws
— but I am Lightening
startling champagne promise
we're all so much more
free once we know
which restrictions to break —
no child is meant to crawl forever
clapping merrily along to the service
so, again, thank you Sunday School
for the gilded maze and Nilla wafers
my spirited flight
launched in your snug walls