From the Psalter:

I will ponder the glorious splendor of your majesty
and all your marvelous works.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 145:5 (BCP Version) – August 7, 2014)

Motorcycle CrashThis morning, I woke up from a dream, grabbed the notepad on my nightstand, and scribbled some notes for a poem.

Then I poured a cup of coffee — thanking God for the wonder of automatic timer-controlled coffee makers — and opened my Book of Common Prayer to read the Daily Office.

Two psalms this morning. The first, Psalm 85:

They have said, “Come, let us wipe them out from among the nations;
let the name of Israel be remembered no more.”
* * *
Do to them as you did to Midian,
to Sisera, and to Jabin at the river of Kishon:
They were destroyed at Endor;
they became like dung upon the ground.

Too much this psalm reminds of Gaza and rockets and bombs and dead children, and I am not sure I want to continue the Office, but habit and discipline compel me to do so.

The second psalm . . . speaks to that strange dream and intermingles with my poem notes and I scribble some more and then hurry through the rest of the Office, unhappy when the reading from Judges presents Gideon as the hero who slew the Ishmaelites and, again, the dead of Gaza come to mind, but I rush through the prayers, hurriedly petitioning, “May they rest in peace and rise in glory,” and then return to my notes and finish the poem.

I’ll title it I Pondered the Works of God. Don’t ask me what it means. You decide.

I dreamed a dream of God
who was riding a motorcycle
a racing bike
and wearing a splendid
one-piece jumpsuit
of metallic silver fabric
and a helmet
and the visor on the helmet
obscured God’s face
when he turned
to look at me.

God laid the bike down
on the track
in a cloud of tire smoke
like a burnt holocaust
of an ancient time
and God stood up
gloriously unharmed
and sprinted off the track
to open the trunk of his car
a 1957 Cadillac Coupe de Ville
and God began
to take off his helmet
and to climb
into the trunk
as he turned
to look at me.

And I woke up
I awakened to a day
I knew would be filled
with decisions and doubts
with answers that would be

And I pondered the works of God
how marvelously he piloted his cycle
how skillfully he laid it down
how carelessly he left it lay
how athletically he ran to his car
how absently he climbed into the trunk
how majestically he turned to look at me.

And I knew
my partial answers
my doubtful decisions
would be
the solid foundation
of years to come
when God would turn
and look at me.


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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.