(x = space)

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Be Serious

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I should say something about God,

because I like God

though I wonder how God likes me.

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Love and like,

like the basis

For a friendship.

And Jesus is our friend,

a revelation given when they met

for supper one last time.

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So if Jesus likes me,

which has been the implication

then somehow, in some way

I must be likable.

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I know God is all-giving

and all patience

with everything that’s perfect,

and my regard hardly necessary.

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And I suppose

friendship must be doctrine

in this tradition, anyway,

though we switch it to indifference

when we think we might,

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when we want to forget

until outside the booth

that God was there

in everything,

made complicit by us followers.

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We are reverse claustrophobes

on Earth—we want to tunnel in

where we might take the rocks

and build small tyrannies,

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which is not friendly action,

though if God is removed

by our convenience, how easily

each other?

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Friendship with God,

a treat by Christian doctrine, I

suppose,

while others don’t forget

the awesomeness of God

and that awe means fear;

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we could stand some friendly fear,

for it is God who loves

and calls us loves even from

prophets and lawgivers.

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Jesus as our pal?

Our buddy at the bar?

It’s fun to think that way

(I think so),

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though Jesus of creation

and of Sinai,

of Golgotha and victory

in hell—how trivially

is made up by us;

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but God is always God

who cries, who creates,

who sacrifices—maybe, then,

deserving of

an attitude of more.

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C L Couch

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Photo by Tim Gouw on Unsplash

Coney Island, United States

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