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Friday, May 17, 2013


 Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” But he said to him, “Man, who made me a judge or arbitrator over you?” And he said to them, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” And he told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man produced plentifully, and he thought to himself, ‘What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ And he said, ‘I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God.”  - Luke 12:13-21 ESV

The act of self-humiliation
Is better than
Defecating on yourself
After you've denied the realities
Of your true nature
And realize that the standard
Isn't found in your wealth
It's been all but forgotten
'Til the Grim Reaper comes knockin'
And you trade
Your thousand count thread sheets
For one of those silk-lined coffins

A life of burnt offerings...
Instead of being a living sacrifice
You settled for living big and suffering
And your passion for pleasures
Measures up to a disaster
When you live that empty life to the fullest
And say never mind
To what comes after

The crucial part to figuring out
You've got a problem
Is to know you're at the bottom
When your toes scratch the surface
You know you've run out of options
Thinking you can just keep digging
In hopes of seeing the other side
Would be an exercise in futility -
You'll end up buried alive

All your strivin' and your strugglin'
It'll all be for nothin'
It's love in an elevator
With no working buttons
Live it up while you're goin' down
There's no stoppin' 'til you hit the ground
Your joyride reached its capacity
The silver cable's been severed;
No mercy to be found

Working for the weekend
Only brings about a weak end
And your accumulation of stuff
Took you deep six
In the deep end
But it was all but forgotten
Until the Grim Reaper came knockin'
And you traded
Your thousand count thread sheets
For one of those silk-lined coffins...

cf. Ecclesiastes 5:8-19

Soli Deo Gloria,

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