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Wednesday, December 25, 2013

Joy to the World

If he had been born today
We would consider him
To be a "throw away"...
A kid born in the gutter
To an unwed mother
And a father
Who was unwilling to claim him

So we would blame
His "strange behavior"
On a lack of guidance
And do him the favor
Of placing low expectations upon him
Because he's a lowly condemned soul
Who couldn't possibly
Bear another burden

Failing to realize
That this is exactly
What his oddly broad back
Was built for -
Identifying with the  poor
And the scores of those
Marginalized by society
He would be the harmony
Between the punishment due
And the portrait of God's mercy

Wearing the yoke of scorn
Like a badge of honor
Wrapped and laid where animals fed
He came conquering and to conquer
The most accurate depiction
Of the first will be last
And the last will be first
Born as a man
So that men born into sin
Could experience a new birth

Long anticipated
Yet totally unexpected
And Hell would be the first
To feel the effect of glory
Crush down upon its head

Immanuel has come
Bringing joy to the world
To free us from the tyranny of evil...
To slay the dragon.
And get the girl.

(cf. Isaiah 9:6; 53:1-12; Luke 2:8-20; John 3:29; Revelation 20:6,14; 21:2)

Merry Xmas,
Shon White

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Truth In a Million Pieces

"The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him." - John 1:9-11

We take the truth
And break it up
Into a million little pieces
That way, it's easier
To sweep it under the rug
And come up with a different thesis...

But particles always linger
So as soon as we lift a finger
To point in the other direction
The light brings it back to our rememberance

All around the atmosphere
It becomes a nuisance and a problem
Because it settles into everything
Giving a reason to the logic

Harboring the Harbinger
That's come down through the ages
That we misappropriate to the aliens
Or the wisdom of the sages

Dangerous mental assertions
As the blind lead the blind
Into miscalculated divination
(Maybe it's just a sign of the the times)

Or maybe a deeper symptom
When the hearts of men wax cold
And an old lie becomes new truth
Wherever an alternative reality is sold

It's a bold statement - I know
But somebody had to say it
Because we're playing roulette
With a loaded .45
And with no one else to play with

Every shot hits the mark
Even though we're aiming in the dark
Because the world and everything in it
Is just a firing range
When it ain't seen as a work of art

"And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed." - John 3:19, 20

(cf. Isaiah 8:14; Matthew 21:44; Romans 9:32; 2 Corinthians 10:4; 1 Peter 2:8)

Soli Deo Gloria,

Friday, December 13, 2013


"You don't have to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blows." - Bob Dylan
No I'm not like these weathermen
Meteorology doesn't suit me...(anymore)
I'm a foreigner in my homeland
This is a Head-out-of-window,
Hand-on-the-glass forecast
I'm trusting in Providence
And not chance...

While the masses sit back and wait for signs
The sky opens and closes as designed
And I'm fine with that
I'll trust what's already been revealed and written
And for all that remains hidden
I'll just consider it none of my business
Because there's a profound sense of wisdom
In saying "I don't know that much"
But what I have come to learn
Wasn't discovered by dumb luck

We cover up so that we don't get wet
But the rain, the cold, and the pain...
They still come when we least expect it
Many consult the constellations
But it leaves them second guessing
And vexed by the outcome
Because you still haven't got the message

Winter's still coming...
The sky's still falling...
And Jesus still saves...
Even though the creditors keep calling
Signs from above are trumped by a love
That came down and laid down
To give peace like a dove

But we have these hovering suspicions
That manifest in the shift of tectonic plates
And lose faith in the notion of goodness
Every time another child is raped

Seems that the harder we pray
The longer the stay of Death's execution
Which gives us the excuse
That we're always looking for
To live a life of disillusionment

And yet still...
Seasons come and seasons go
Only God truly knows
So, I don't gotta be a weatherman
To know which way the wind blows

(cf. Matthew 16:1-4; Genesis 2:7; Ecclesiastes 11:5; Ezekiel 37:9 Mark 4:41; John 3:8, 20:22; Acts 2:1-4)

Soli Deo Gloria,

Thursday, December 12, 2013


“…Negro's, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.”  -  Phillis Wheatley

The nigga on the right
Hates the nigga on the left
And the niggas at the top
Are puttin' niggas on the shelf
Some niggas have it all
And they hoard all of their wealth
Other niggas are doin' what they can
And make the most of what's left
One nigga says
Another nigga's skin is too dark
And when that nigga disagrees
It's like igniting a spark
Everything goes dark
And that's the way it all starts
Now niggas are on a mission
To tear those niggas apart
Sellin' niggas like they're stock
Dead a nigga for his guac
If that nigga needs a ride
Then that nigga better walk
(Or sell rocks)
Front row niggas
Holdin' backseat niggas
To a much lower standard
Ignoring what they're seein'
In the mirror
Inferior niggas
With their fingers on the trigger
Accomplices to the nonsense
As a nigga's sense of worth
Begins to wither
So it figures…
Little niggas drawing pictures
Of a living hell
They've got nothin' to go home to
So what's left for a nigga...
But a cell?
But just beyond the pale
Is a cross and three nails
Where niggas, long ago, set up for failure
Find the good for what ails 'em
The race war that's been ragin'
Was long before us finished
To redeem us from our niggardly ways
And grant salvation to the chiefest of niggas
(cf. Numbers 12:1-10; Jeremiah 13:23; Proverbs 20:9; Romans 3:19, 23; 11:32; Galatians 3:22; Revelation 5:9-10)
Soli Deo Gloria,

Friday, December 06, 2013


“Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin." - John 8:34
It’s open season on the blackamoor…

And four score and seven
Only serves as a reminder
Of how far we are from heaven
Linkin’ us to a past
But we’re too easily forgettin’
The bondage that’s awaitin’
And treat it like a broken record

We scratch it up and mix it
Tryin’ to put a new spin on it
Thinkin’ that if we spend enough dough
That’s all we need to depend on
But those whips and chains are now whips and chains
Money stacks and diamond rings
As we tiptoe through the cotton rows
Chasin’ after the “finer things”

The same thing that is
Rainin’ down on Jupiter
Is the very same thing
That we’re willing to become captives for
The love of money
Is the mother of invention
Rooted in all kinds of evil
And limitless in its potential

Becoming a slave
Is much easier than we think
So many give up their freedom
Just to own a couple of trinkets –

Tinkertoys that pale in comparison to Zion
And precious jewels that will one day pave the streets
Our feet will tread on…

(cf. Hebrews 13:5; 1 Timothy 6:10)

Soli Deo Gloria,

Wednesday, December 04, 2013

Face of the Earth (Terra Cotta)

"And when they came to the threshing floor of Nacon, Uzzah put out his hand to the ark of God and took hold of it, for the oxen stumbled. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah, and God struck him down there because of his error, and he died there beside the ark of God." - 2 Samuel 6:6-7

We hastily presume that our hands
Are cleaner than the dirt
Beneath our feet

But the reality is that the dirt
(Unlike me)
Is just being what it was meant to be
And that we’ve been deceived
Into believing the lie
That it makes us filthy
We hate the dirt
Because it is a reminder
That removes all blinders
Never letting us forget
Where we come from

Because you may very well
Be able to escape the ghetto’s aura
But you will never be able
To escape your skin color

Explore any avenue that you wish
But we all have to dismiss
The notion of black and white
And any shades of grey fade
In light of the knowledge
That we’re just different shades of brown
All made from the same lump

Molded and shaped
Fearfully and wonderfully made
“Oh, the distinctiveness of the human race!”
And yet, we bite off our own noses
In spite of the familiarity of the faces
Simply because they come from other places

And we leave it to the ground
To soak up the blood from wars
And we leave it to the ground
To soak up the tears from the scarred;

Age after age -
It bears witness to the trauma
And eagerly awaits redemption
From a history of violence and dishonor

But the ownership has been rescinded
And when the world is returned to its Sender
The face of the earth will crack a smile
As it relinquishes its descendants

I am the ground…
I am the dirt…
And I’ve been trying to find my way home
Since the day of my birth

(cf. Genesis 2:7; Romans 8:18-23; Revelation 20:13)

Soli Deo Gloria,

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