Tired of You

A Political Rant from The Merry Mystic

I don’t want to alienate my politically conservative friends, God bless ‘em. And I’m a bit embarrassed to add any more political ranting to our overheated national discourse. But I do want to be honest in sharing my work here.

So here’s fair warning: if you’re tired of political rants, you might want to skip this one. Because it’s a song addressed to President Trump. It’s called, “Tired of You.”

P.S. This YouTube video is mostly a still image over the music, with only a little performance video at the end. If you’d just like the music, here it is:

P.P.S. I really had to work to edit this song down to a manageable length. There were, initially, a lot more words. Because I know words. I have the best words….

Goodbye, Cat-Friend

I’m feeling too sad to follow through with my plans for The Merry Mystic this week. My good old cat Justice got too sick over the last couple of days, and today we had to have him put to sleep.

Justice was an ordinary cat in many ways: he loved tuna, watched birds, didn’t like car travel. But one of his extraordinary qualities was his instinct for compassion. Whenever anyone in the family was feeling low or stressed out, Justice would find that person, snuggle down on his or her chest, and purr. He did it for me; I know that he did it for my wife, especially during her father’s final illness and death three years ago. I’ve had a number of cats before, each one special in its way, but I’ll always remember Justice for the comfort he gave to people in need. Well done, thou good and faithful cat-friend.

In his memory, I invite you to re-watch my cat video from last fall, Justice the Ranting Cat.

Body, Mind, Vine, and Fruit

A Merry Mystic guest post by Rob Pierson

My seminary brother Rob Pierson offered a whole pamphlet in response to my Siphonophore message last week.  His is a more positive metaphoric understanding of community — not as a self-serving institutional organism, but as a relational expression of the mind of Christ.  Rob has given me permission to share his pamphlet with you, so I’m attaching it below.  Rob is a remarkable soul, and I recommend reading this, and anything else he writes.  (I also recommend spending time with his photographic artwork, if you can find it.  How’s that web site coming, Rob?)

The seminary Rob and I attended is the Earlham School of Religion.  It’s a community rooted in the Quaker tradition, which is Rob’s faith family too, though not mine.  A “pamphlet,” in that tradition, is a monograph inspired by the Spirit; it’s a time-honored medium for written ministry.  In Rob’s pamphlet, you might find one or two terms that are used in unfamiliar, Quakerly ways: clearness committee, testimonies, business meeting, and so on.  But his message is universal and accessible.  I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Body, Mind, Vine, and Fruit

On Not Having Heard from God Recently

Waiting for Instructions with The Merry Mystic

Have you ever asked God to tell you what to do?  I have …

Leave a comment and tell us a story: have you ever received clear instructions from God?  Did you ask for them?

P.S. — Here’s the text of that poem.

On Not Having Heard From God Recently

I think that if I were King,
I'd want a captain who doesn't keep asking,
	What should I do now?
I'd want an agent who knows what I want,
	and does it,
	and rarely asks for advice or permission.
I'd want an independent servant,
	someone I have to seek out
	to comfort from time to time.

I'd find her in the field, at night,
	in the chapel there alone, with her weapons beside her.
I'd sit down next to her,
	pray with her.

After a while, just as dawn began to lighten the sky, I'd say:
	Hello, Captain.
	It's me.
I just want you to know, I'm grateful for all you do.
Anything I can do for you?
Anything you need?

And my captain would smile,
	maybe for the first time in days,
	and she'd say:
No thanks, Boss.
I've got it covered.

Snow Day

No school today on account of snow — in our local public schools, and at Central Michigan University as well. Reminds me of another of those songs we used to sing when I was a boy. This was a parody of an old vaudeville and music hall song:

Ta ra ra boom de ay
There is no school today
The teacher passed away
She died of tooth decay
We threw her in the bay
She scared the fish away
And when we took her out
She smelled like sauerkraut

Heartless little beasts, weren’t we?