Monday, November 14, 2011

Awesome and Meddlesome

I have no idea how I first met Hugh Hollowell and was introduced to Love Wins Ministries but he's become one of those friends that you swear you've known your whole life.  You know, the one who is SO MUCH like you but keeps you honest and real?  Yeah, he's like that.  Awesome and meddlesome, all at the same time.

Growing up as a preacher's kid at Central Baptist Church in downtown Miami, FL meant seeing lots of homeless folks...even serving them a hot meal on occasion from the mission at the back corner of the church parking lot.  But it never meant getting to know them.  Or seeing them as real live human beings.

Leave it to Hugh to make me re-think that old script.

I end up subscribing to the Love Wins newsletter and one day read this post about/from Tony.  Specifically, this:
“Please tell the people who give you this money that I am so grateful. That I could not have made it this long without you guys. And that while it may not seem like a big deal to them, it has changed my life. Hell, it probably saved my life.”
Damn it, Hugh.

That night, my family becomes a monthly contributor to Love Wins.  Hugh DM's me on Twitter to say that we rock.  I tell him to shove it because it's a pittance and I want it to be more.  I can almost feel him roll his eyes when he responds, "You don't know what I can do with a pittance."

In the next few months, I can't get Tony off my mind.  Eventually, I email Hugh and ask if there's any way I can get in touch with him.  Become his friend and let him know that someone other than Hugh cares about him and wants to know him personally.

Tony agrees and we start emailing.  Just getting to know each other.  When Tony mentions that he could use some dishes and kitchen supplies, I just smile and shake my head.  God's sense of humor and timing continues to slay me...I have a ton of stuff I've "inherited" when a great-aunt passed away.

I had the opportunity to give these things to Tony in person yesterday.  I got to see where he lives, hug him, introduce him to my daughter, and talk smack about NC football teams.  I discovered that his birthday is close to my anticipated due date and promised I would email him when I found out the sex of the baby at the end of this month.

Hugh told me today that I have no idea what that short visit meant to Tony.  I told him that I know what it meant to me.

Because, you see, Tony is my friend.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Everything I Say About God is Wrong by Katie Jo Suddaby

(aka, My Lusty Affront to Apophatic Theology)
by Katie Jo Suddaby

Everything I say about God is wrong.
Beautifully,
sensuously,
dangerously
wrong.
Wrong like the lowest organ pipe.
Dark and powerful,
It’s rumble hits you-
feet and ass first.
Church roof shingles shake and fall.
My God is a resonating wrong
a beautiful wrong
that whisks away all thought of right
like the curls on the girl
you’ll never have...
It matters more to have touched them once.
To open my mouth about God
is the wonderful slip in the bathtub
wet toes stubbing
knee slam
forehead hits the side
a face-full of wet plastic curtain
Even if you haven’t laughed in years
you’ll hear yourself out loud now
and wish someone was home to see you
naked
wet
and laughing
A dripping, sighing, smirk.
Dangerously, Beautifully, Confidently;
Everything I say about God is wrong.

Monday, June 13, 2011

If it looks like a duck...

I love Seth Godin's blog.  I love how he thinks, how succinct he is and how he calls a spade a spade.  Today's entry hit close to home as I consider what the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship means to me after 20 years of existence.  The 20th anniversary celebration will happen next week in Tampa, FL and I have to wonder if we've considered any of Seth's points:

An organization uses structure and resources and power to make things happen. Organizations hire people, issue policies, buy things, erect buildings, earn market share and get things done. Your company is probably an organization.

A movement has an emotional heart. A movement might use an organization, but it can replace systems and people if they disappear. Movements are more likely to cause widespread change, and they require leaders, not managers. The internet, it turns out, is a movement, and every time someone tries to own it, they fail.

A philosophy can survive things that might wipe out a movement and that would decimate an organization. A philosophy can skip a generation or two. It is often interpreted, and is more likely to break into autonomous groups, to morph and split and then reunite. Industrialism was a philosophy.

The trouble kicks in when you think you have one and you actually have the other.

Very often we refer to ourselves as a "movement" or a "fellowship" but I don't know that anyone knows what those terms mean.  And, as Baptist polity makes us a bit cantankerous when anyone claims to speak for all Baptists (for those who may not know - since each congregation is autonomous, there is no hierarchy/synod/presbytery/bishop that makes decisions about "what all Baptists believe"), we tend to be über careful...and I suspect we don't want to define those terms.  But we're 20 years old now.  And if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck...wouldn't it just behoove us all to call it a duck instead of "NOT chicken"?  Let's stop defining ourselves by what we're NOT and start saying what we ARE.  Organization, movement, or philosophy?

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday: Mixed Signals (4/17/11)

I love musicals. Old musicals in particular but I’ll go to them all. I’m one of those strange people who really think life would be better if we had a soundtrack and just spontaneously burst into song. For example, this is the point where the music would swell and I would begin a stirring piece that would tug at your heart strings. Like something from the Sound of Music, “Climb ev’ry mountain…” Or maybe a toe-tapping number like the moment in Guys and Dolls when Nathan sings “The people all said sit down/sit down you’re rockin’ the boat” as his testimony. Well, maybe not that particular song...

I think the reason I like musicals so much is that sometimes the songs convey more emotion and depth than just dialogue. You can see why our text today has been set to music by a variety of composers – even before Webber’s Jesus Christ Superstar there was Handel’s Messiah. Do me a favor and close your eyes. Picture the scene – we’re near Jerusalem, on a ridge called the Mount of Olives and the air is dry and hot. The sun’s beating down and there’s a haze around us. We shade our eyes and see a group approaching – shimmering in the mid-day heat. Listen as Matthew tells us the story:
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, 'The Lord needs them.' And he will send them immediately." This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, "Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey." The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?" The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee."
Do you see what I mean? Can’t you just hear the swell of the strings as Jesus swings himself onto the donkey and begins his triumphal entry as Messiah? Can’t you hear the crowds as a huge choir singing Hosanna/Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord? Can’t you hear the minor chords as the Pharisees slink around in dark passageways, hissing “Who is this?” Or maybe they were more like Harold Hill in the Music Man, working the angles for their con, “Ya’ got trouble right here in River City/Trouble with a capital T.”

What we have here folks...are mixed signals. When I was growing up, Palm Sunday was a celebration that usually entailed an Easter cantata, a processional of children waving palm branches and an emphasis on the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem – the king come to town. The Jesus parade. What I missed was verse 10 – “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The whole city was in turmoil! Other translations say the city was stirred or shook up. The Greek here is eseisthe which is the word from which we get our word "seismology" –– the study of earthquakes. Paints quite a word picture, don’t you think? The whole city was eseisthe! In complete chaos & turmoil. How did I miss that?

Maybe you never had that problem. Maybe you’ve always been aware that Palm Sunday is the signal that Lent is drawing to a close and Holy Week is beginning. That this picture we see of Jesus as the Messiah, smiling and waving to the adoring crowds, is the beginning of the end. The end of Jesus’ earthly ministry. The beginning of his suffering and death.

But we have more mixed signals than just what we find in verse 10. Look at what the crowds were shouting – "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" I know, some of you are looking at me like I’m nuts. “Yeah Christina, they’re praising him…where’s the mixed signal?” See, the issue is with the word hosanna. While most modern dictionaries define it as being praise or adoration, that’s not entirely correct.

The word is of Hebrew origin and means please save or save now. In Jewish liturgy, the word is applied specifically to the Hoshana Service, a cycle of prayers from which a selection is sung each morning during Sukkot, the Feast of Booths or Tabernacles…which was a different observance than Passover, okay? You with me here? As recorded in the Mishnah, part of the people’s worship would include processing to a place below Jerusalem called Motza and pick branches of willows to place around the altar. This historical tidbit gives us a bit more to wrestle with, doesn’t it?

Maybe the crowds weren’t waving palm branches. In fact, in our text today, there’s no mention of palms. Only John says anything about palms…Luke and Mark line up with Matthew here. Only branches. So, they could have been willow branches that people had gathered to celebrate Sukkot. But wait, I thought Jesus and the disciples were coming to Jerusalem to observe Passover? Do you see what I mean? Mixed signals. People shouting hosanna – beseeching Jesus to save them. Placing branches on a dusty road to be trampled by a carpenter riding a donkey instead of around the altar in Jerusalem. No wonder the whole city was eseisthe. That’s…heresy!

And what about when Matthew refers to Jesus fulfilling a prophecy? Did you ever realize that when Matthew quotes from Zechariah, he deliberately omits part of the prophecy that refers to the king coming in triumph and victory? Of course, this is Matthew’s recounting of the events and he’s allowed to tell the story from his point of view…but does that flavor what we believe about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem? That the humble servant we see riding a donkey is fulfilling only part of the prophecy? Or is he just fulfilling it in a different way?

You may be asking yourself, “Just where are you going with all this, Christina?” My goal isn’t to completely unsettle you this morning but to give you pause. Too often we focus on the triumphal entries in the Bible and neglect the paradox that accompanies them. Those mixed signals we tend to ignore because we just don’t know what to do with them. Joy and suffering, tragedy and triumph, cross and resurrection.

So, going back to the whole Jesus parade thing I was talking about…when I was growing up, we would jump from celebrating Palm Sunday (Yay Jesus!) to celebrating Easter. We didn’t spend a lot of time talking about all that led up to the resurrection. I want you to hear part of the scripture that follows Jesus’ triumphal entry. Listen to this mixed signal and tell me what you hear: Matthew 27:11-31:
Now Jesus stood before the governor; and the governor asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed. Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner for the crowd, anyone whom they wanted. At that time they had a notorious prisoner, called Jesus Barabbas. So after they had gathered, Pilate said to them, “Whom do you want me to release for you, Jesus Barabbas or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over. While he was sitting on the judgment seat, his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” Now the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor again said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!” So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified. Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.
 The paradox of the Jesus parade and the passion of the Christ…what do you do with paradox in your own life? How do you respond to the mixed signals? A financially prosperous year that is disrupted by a cancer diagnosis? A 16th birthday celebration followed by a devastating car accident? A church filled with people who love God but are burnt out and tired? In his book, Learning to Fall, author Philip Simmons talks about the need for seeing life as a mystery, not a problem to be solved. He claims we can participate in mystery…in life…only by letting go of solutions.

And so I ask you again, what do you do with paradox? What will you do with the Jesus who doesn’t provide answers or solutions? What will you do with the Jesus who rode a donkey into a city in turmoil? What will you do with the Jesus who didn’t answer Pilate? With the Jesus who asked God why he had been forsaken? What will you do with these mixed signals we get from our text today?

If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that Jesus’ whole ministry was full of mixed signals. Healing on the Sabbath, spending time with outsiders, praising the good deeds of Samaritans…none of these things made sense to the religious people of his day. In the same way, if we only look at today as the triumphal entry, we miss how it sets the tone for the rest of the passion.

Nothing about the processional is particularly grand or triumphant. And we know this day marks the beginning of the end. We are moving towards suffering and death. But what awaits on the other side of the cross…on the other side of Easter? Our faith is full of mixed signals, isn’t it? Be patient, beloved. Easter is coming.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Sermon for Lent 5A: Life Always Wins (4/10/11)


If we’re friends on Facebook, you probably saw that I considered titling my sermon “No More Zombies” today…I mean, did you HEAR that passage from Ezekiel? He hears a rattling and the bones come together with sinews and flesh and skin but no breath?! (shudder) I was going to show a clip from the zombie classic, Army of Darkness, to illustrate this but I just couldn’t do it. Zombies freak me out!

Growing up, I couldn’t watch scary movies of any kind because I would have terrible nightmares…in fact, I’m going to show my age here and ask if any of you ever watched the 1963 stop action movie, Jason and the Argonauts? It used to come on during the weekends every now and then when I was growing up and even though it scared me, I always watched it. There was a part when skeletons come popping out the ground, complete with swords and shields, and they go after Jason and his crew because he stole the golden fleece. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, Google Jason and the Argonauts – there are several YouTube clips and you can get the movie on Netflix!

Anyway…I would watch that part through m­y fingers because I was so scared…but I couldn’t look away! THAT’S the clip that plays in my head when I hear this passage from Ezekiel. Verse 11 says, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” The skeleton army wins! But wait…in verses 13 and 14, God says, “You shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live.” Yeah! No more zombies!

But wait! There’s more! Check out our New Testament scripture for today, John 11:1-45. Yeah, I know, this is a lot of verses but it’s a familiar story and worth hearing again in its entirety. Read John 11:1-45 (NRSV). 

No zombies here, either! The God of Ezekiel who reassembled dry bones into breathless corpses and then breathed life into them is the same God who breathes life back into Lazarus and commands him to come out. Life wins! If we trust this God who has been faithful since Ezekiel’s day, then we MUST believe that life always wins!

But…the truth is, we don’t always believe that, do we? We look around our world and we see too much evidence to the contrary. Protestors are still being beaten and killed in Egypt, ­­the death toll in Japan is over 25,000 after the earthquake and tsunami, Libya is in the midst of a violent military takeover…but that’s halfway across the world – not something that hits too close to home, right? Surely life always wins here in the good ole’ US of A.

Really?  With our federal government almost shutting down due to financial turmoil? With the gas prices rising and the cost of beef, milk, vegetables, fruits and butter skyrocketing? With all of the secret things in our lives that we don’t tell anyone that are killing us slowly? Life always wins?

Let’s be honest here. Sometimes we’re the zombies; the valley of dry bones, Lazarus sealed up in the tomb. Sometimes we’re Martha and Mary, falling at Jesus’ feet and wailing, “If you had been here...if you really loved me…if you really listened to my prayers…none of this would happen!” We want to believe…oh, how we WANT to BELIEVE that life always wins; that Jesus is the Messiah! But when confronted with the tombs of our life, with the stench and decay of death heavy in the air around us, our faith falters. And Jesus weeps. Just like at Lazarus’ tomb, he stands shuddering, shaken to the core. Maybe we can even hear a hint of anger in his sobs…a defiance of death?

Jesus traveled to Bethany to pick a fight with death—to announce that death doesn’t get the last word – to claim that the Resurrection and the Life…ALWAYS…WINS. “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Our job, beloved, is to unbind the grave cloths of others…to let them go! And as we unbind others, we are also set free. So this morning, if you’re dead in the tomb, bound by past hurts, illness, grief, doubt, despair, addiction, abuse…whatever binds you – listen! Hear Jesus’ voice calling to you!­ Come out! Come out and believe that life always wins!­

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Sermon for Lent 4A: Miracle Mudpies (4/3/11)

When I was growing up, I was NOT a tomboy.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I did like to play outside, ride bikes, jump on my friend’s trampoline…you know, typical kid stuff.  But I DIDN’T like to get dirty.  I wasn’t prissy but I just had no use for getting myself dirty…sweaty was fine.  Dirty was not.   Except during the summer.  That’s when I would go to the mountains of NC with my grandparents.  They would rent a small house on the side of a mountain for the summer and it would just be the three of us for weeks on end.  No television, no video games, no other kids nearby…what was a city girl to do?  Read…A LOT.  Pick blackberries.  Climb trees.

And make mudpies.  Summer was the exception to my rule.  I would take dozens of tin pie plates out to the side yard, dig up a patch of grass (I’m sure the owners LOVED that), turned on the hose for a bit and began to work in the hard dusty red clay.  I would let the water soften it a bit and then grab a handful and start kneading it, shaping the mud…I loved the feel of the mud squi­shing between my fingers and getting under my nails…I loved getting it to just the right consistency for the perfect mudpie.  I’d pat it into the pie plates then add various twigs, grasses, flowers and berries to decorate the top.  And then I’d set them out in the sun to bake for a few hours…but not before my grandmother would hose me down from head to foot because I’d be covered in red mud.  I loved it. 
 
Jesus apparently liked making mudpies, too…we just heard Mary read that Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes…now, I know what you’re thinking.  Ewwwww, right?  Let me give you some context here - The people of that day believed in the medicinal use of spittle.  I mean, we all­ know about the unique cleaning properties of Mama spit, don’t we?  C’mere…you’ve got something on your face there…hold still while I get it.  In our scripture for today, in Jesus' hands the familiar folk remedy becomes a way for physical healing AND spiritual revelation to happen. 
­

I also can’t help but think that Jesus' use of mud recalls the creation story, where God brought forth life from the dust of the earth in Genesis 2:7.  Jesus' healing of the blind man actually CREATES sight for him.  The man was blind from birth, so he never had sight that could be restored or given back to him.  Instead, Jesus creates sight from nothing -- just as God created the world from nothing.

After his sight is restored, we see his neighbors asking him if he was the blind beggar and he says over and over, “I am that man.”  They want to know how he can see now so he tells them over and over how it happened but they just don’t believe it.  So then, in verses 13-34, he’s taken to the Pharisees and they ask him the same question and he tells them the same story but they don’t believe him so they call in his parents.  Niiiiice, right?  Just what you want when you’re getting the second degree…your PARENTS dragged into it.  And they totally wimp out on him!  

Look at verses 20 and 21, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.”  Throwing him under the bus because they were afraid!

But he continues to tell his story and, in fact, gets a little irritated with the Pharisees.  Look at verse 27, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?”  HA!  And then he beats them at their game in verses 30-33, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”  And that upsets them to the point that they kick him out.­  I love it.
­

He tells his story over and over again but no one believes.  Not quite the picture of evangelism that we Baptists like to see, is it?  What if…each time we tell our story of faith, when we share it with others, maybe the point isn’t that they’re changed or saved but WE are changed?  What if the simple act of telling our story over and over agai­n draws us along on our journey of faith?  In the same way, as a church tells it’s story over and over again, perhaps that doesn’t draw lots of new people in…it CAN…but more importantly, it begins to change US as the church and draws us along as a community of faith.

In verses 35-38, “Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”  The man answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him.

Each summer when I made those mudpies, that simple experience changed me.  If we understand that Jesus was fully human and fully God, what if every miracle that he performed was helping him grow in his faith and understanding of God…that they were increasing his connection to God?   So that by the time he was ready to go to the cross, each of those experiences had made him stronger and prepared him for what he was going to do.  We’re here in Lent, journeying toward the cross – this story and miracle is one stop along the way. What if this miracle mudpie that created sight where there was no sight…what if this miracle not only occurred for the blind man but for Jesus?  If Jesus really understands completely what it is to be human (all of our pain, joy, suffering, and doubt) – what if this miracle mudpie changed him along HIS­ journey?­

You might not see where you’re going as a congregation but the more that you tell your story, the more God will give you a new vision…new eyes…new hope to see clearly who God is calling you to be as a church.  In the coming months, will you be willing to be changed by telling your story over and over again?  Are you ready to see?  It might take a “miracle mudpie” or two but I’m willing to get dirty.  Are you?

Monday, March 28, 2011

The Best Worst Poem I've Ever Written

My buddy Deanna and I were laughing tonight about all the bad poetry we wrote as teenagers - the angst we felt so deeply and felt compelled to write about (since we were so cool and deep).  She found a notebook that contained her poetry from elementary, middle and high school and posted one of her "worst" poems on Facebook today.  She inspired me to go digging and here's the gem I found tonight.  I am still wiping away the tears as I laugh and post this...the best worst poem I've ever written.  It has no title or date but I'm guessing it was late 80s, early 90s.  I have no clue who I wrote this about but he must have had silky hair...'tis true.  So, without further ado, dear readers, enjoy:

Moonlit waters caress the sand
With a gentle, loving touch
And as we walk, you look at me
And your eyes say so much.

The night wind is gentle,
Caressing and warm
And it ruffles your silky hair
I tickle you, you smile and laugh
And caress my cheek with care.

I love you, 'tis true
What more can I say?
Yet something is never quite right
Just like the waters with the moon on their waves
That hide the evil from sight.

I'm not saying we're evil
Not you nor I
but perhaps together we're wrong.
So let's stay apart
For a while at least
And our friendship will stay strong.

After reading this with Deanna and Matt (my husband), we all felt compelled to add our commentary for those poetry students who need the interpretation for the test later.  Yes, there will be a test.

[We all agree that this starts out like standard teenage love mush]
Moonlit waters caress the sand
With a gentle, loving touch
And as we walk, you look at me
And your eyes say so much. [Do they?  Really?  Since when do boys' eyes say anything?]

The night wind is gentle,
Caressing and warm
And it ruffles your silky hair
I tickle you, you smile and laugh [I tickle you?  Who tickles people in a poem?  Really?]
And caress my cheek with care.
[Apparently, I was into caressing.  Lots of caressing.  The waters caress the sand, the wind is caressing, and you/he caresses my cheek.  What's a good Christian teenage girl to do?  When I'm not tickling, I'm caressing...or being caressed.  Of course, in a non-sexual way.  Naturally.]

I love you, 'tis true
What more can I say? [And here's where I went wrong.  I really should've stopped writing right here. 'Tis true.]
Yet something is never quite right [Oh boy.  Truer words were never penned.]
Just like the waters with the moon on their waves
That hide the evil from sight. [Oh no!  Something dark and scary is rising from the waves.  What is that?  Not our love!]

I'm not saying we're evil [How could we be evil?  Say 'tisn't so!]
Not you nor I
but perhaps together we're wrong. [Oh...this is so wrong.]
So let's stay apart
For a while at least
And our friendship will stay strong. [Really?  This is how I said "Let's be friends" back then? Wow.]

[There are simply no words.  Not one nor two.  No words.]

So there you have it.  The best worst poem I ever wrote.  Or, at least that I can find.  You're welcome.  I do what I can to bring some sunshine into your life on a dreary Monday.