Source inspiration: Books of Job, Malachi, Matthew, and Romans.
Soul riders, anointed saints!
Epic is this ride;
Eternal is the journey;
Epic is the story.
From Sea of Galilee,
Across plains and mountains,
To Bethany, Gethsemane, and Calvary.
In readiness; anticipation.
Spaghetti galore! Potato buffet! Pasta station!
Preparation against tribulation.
Glycogen; starch nation;
Blessed be our daily bread.
The Bonk, we do not want!
Tribulation; great suffering;
Makes grown men cry.
Dreaded, infernal Bonk!
A mighty wall; a pitiful state.
So very real, a riders fear;
Funky fate; no glory; no glee;
Brother Job would agree.
Mercy! Mercy!
Beyond jello-jelly;
Legs defeated;
Strained and drained.
Willpower to pedal,
Suddenly defeated.
Sheol on earth.
Out of peace and pace;
Like no helmet in outer space;
Within minutes,
Glycogen depletion;
Muscles, like spent mussel,
A mere shell,
An empty husk,
Legs and willpower, reduced to dust.
The body trembles; all gone feral.
No joy, no mirth.
Brother Job once asked,
“God’s will or wrath?”
Could there be worse?
Verily, the spiritual bonk,
Like an eternal bonk,
Everlasting funk.
Soul riders!
Imagine, eternity in a bonk.
Heavy like a stone, dried chewed bone.
We cannot live by bread alone!
God’s will or wrath?
His wrath, truly, man-made.
Let’s do the math.
This is the irony:
Our Father does not seek to punish us;
Rather, like children, we blame Him
For that which we do not understand;
Or which we cannot control.
Our Father does not exclude Himself from us;
He is incapable of it.
His Arms are eternal and public; omnipresent,
Like air and wind;
A gentle breeze,
He rocks you like a hurricane.
Rather, we act to exclude Him.
Like a child,
We are quick to neglect
Gifts and presents;
We perform in action,
Exile and denial.
Soul riders; saints,
We are the salt of the earth;
There is nothing graver,
Than salt without flavor.
No need for tantrums.
Why hold your breath? The air is there.
We build a wall; a great wall.
We wreak our own wrath unto Him;
Not His unto us.
We project our will unto Him;
For it is easier than accepting His as ours.
We are human, of the flesh,
Inherently judgmental, yet erroneous;
Inherently needy, yet prideful;
All saints are vulnerable.
God’s wrath is a mirage,
A mere distortion of human wrath;
Yet results in His absence,
Even though He is ever-present
And has done no wrong.
This is the irony.
Exhale and inhale;
Inspire; be inspired; truth inspiration.
Lord of Lords,
Kings of Kings,
Father Redeemer,
His wrath is not
Fire and fury.
His wrath is His absence;
Absence of His fellowship,
Of His Will,
His light,
His Grace,
His wonder,
Of the Holy Spirit,
His abundance,
Kingdom riches,
Of His Saving Son,
The Librerating King.
His absence from us;
That is wrath; eternal bonk.
Like an empty muscle; Sheol.
Imagine, eternity as an empty soul.
Saints fear not.
Good news!
Gospel Truth!
A public remedy for spiritual bonk.
Like manna, bread, and starch;
A saving grace from body bonk.
Gospel word; heavenly bread;
Salvation from eternal funk; spiritual bonk.
Drink of the Cup
Eat of the Bread
Read of the Gospel
Temper our wrath; tame our wrath;
And in an instant;
Like precious air;
His is here; arms outstretched.
We are his favored;
Salt with flavor.
The Truth redeems,
The Truth heals;
Public, free, abundant for all to partake,
Day after day;
Day in, day out.
Take it in,
Move aside mere human will;
Make room for His will;
God’s nation,
In readiness, our daily bread.
Let us exhult Him,
And in doing so; let us be exhalted.
Let us strain our minds in His direction;
With hope crowned; with an attitude of gratitude.
Glorious is His Reign,
It will not wane;
Redeeming;
Gleaming as dewdrops and rain.
Praise sunrise, day after day;
Praise glory, Son’s rise,
Awaken to it,
Day after day;
Never let it fade.
Be blessed and kept.
Let’s ride!
