Brought to you by the Letter Y....

I think that the letter "Y" may very well have become my favorite of all 26 letters in the standard English alphabet. Which other letter has such versatility, such grace, such... goalpostish shape? It is a sort of metrosexual among letters, masquerading most days as a consonant, but we've all heard the rumors about "...and sometimes Y" and his/her/its double life as an occasional vowel. It's not fooling us with is machismo attitude beneath well-groomed uprights and breathy pronunciation.

I think the thing I like most about the letter Y is it's ability to pose as a question. We all know the 2-year old's affinity for our favorite letter. The sky is blue.. "Y?" And it is not until much later in life that we give up our inborn curiosity and love for this next-to-last letter, and cynically adopt the complex word, "B-cause" to explain life's conundrums. B-cause... such a harsh word, filled with jaded dreams, with a defeated attitude that says "this is how it is, how it always will be. Accept it." B-cause seems to reject hope for change and progress and betterment of the world in general.

But Y? Y should I accept the all-powerful tyranny of "B-cause?" And if you say "Just because," then I spit at you with a powerful "P." Y is the only letter that probes our minds to discover -- to discover new worlds, old worlds, microcosms, solar systems, God, self, soul, life, death, and truth. If not for "Y" this world would still be eons back... at least the English speaking world....

Y the rant about such a top-heavy letter? Because I find myself asking it often lately. I used to thing that asking Y was childish and immature and naive and facetiously hopeful, or audaciously rebellious. I mean, who am I to discover and challenge and believe and, overall, to question the way things are? I mean, I can't ask the established social norm Y this or that custom or tradition is considered okay, or Y that selfsame norm was established in the first place.

I can't question authority, "Y don't we try to do this?" or "Y has this still been going on?" That is rude and presumptuous. It assumes rights of free thought and cognition and creativity.

And, heaven forbid I ask God "Y" about anything. To do so would entice all kinds of bitterness and anger and sorrow from my safe little box of hiding within me. If you can't C it, then I'm OK. It doesn't matter if I bottle up my emotions and pretend to hide my confusion from God. So long as I never dare question Him like a little boy asking his daddy "Y is the sky blue" or "Y did Fluffy stop moving when the car hit her?"

Heaven forbid I approach God with honest curiosity and confusion, pleading "Y, Daddy, Y are things like this? Y does life work this way? Y do I have to deal with this?" Heaven forbid I question Him and seek to answer. Heaven forbid I ask that it might be given to me, that I seek only to discover what I was looking for, that I knock upon a door behind which stands the Father of Truth and all answers.

No, I want to approach the throne with that interrogative attitude, seeking to know who He is, to know what, and how and, ultimately Y things are like they are.

Jesus said that we who would approach him with a childlike faith would be received. What better describes a child than curiosity and innocent honest ignorance longing to be resolved with the simple proposition: "Y?"

Maybe I

I am cold.
I am hard.
Drive me deep,
Leave a scar.

Kill the good to keep the bad.
All I want
Is all I had.
But now I have
What's not desired.
I don't want rain
Or ice
Or fire.

I don't want life,
but might want death
If death is all
This life has left.

But drive me deep
Through bony hand
Through Holy God
In bloody man.

I am a nail
I am his pain
I wear his blood
I wear his Name.

And hardened steel
Blood cannot break.
It cannot give
or keep or take.
It only changes
name to Name
to make your own
and mine the same.

It only gives thewound its balm
It won't prevent,
It will not calm
The frantic mind
The maddened heart
That tears my soul and life apart.

The only hope I have is Now

I don't see why,
I can't see how.

Blindness coversHoly light
Confusion makes my wrong
Seem right.

I sink into
familiar mud
That covers over
Holy blood
That seems now thinner,
Seems to fade
It seems to chase my hopes away.

I fear myself.
I fear the change.
I fear the world.

I fear the blade
That says my pain it will subdue.

(It's more than I
Can say for You.)

The edge is sharp to dull my pain
With lasting scars to bring me change.

New blood runs down
With mingled sin
My blood without
Your Blood within

I bleed the evil spirits dry
I want to wail
But will not cry.
I will not shed a lonely tear
For sorrow bends beneath my fear:

The fear of weakness;
Falling fast;
Of trusting things that cannot last;
Of peace and love;
of mercy strong;
Of broken heart;
Of healing song;
Of holy grace
And holy name
And all the Things that stay the Same.

But what I think I fear the least
Is sitting here alone in grief

If no one sees the sorrow fall
Then maybe I deny it all
And maybe I just made it up
And maybe I am really tough
And maybe life ain't all that bad
And maybe I'm not really sad....

But maybe Iam just a man
Who weaves his pain through lines of sand,
And hopes for tide to come and wash
Away the gain,
Erase the loss.

Or maybe wind will blur the lines
and give me hope and give me time
to clear my heart, to clear my mind
to clear my voice and praises find
In light of your Forgetfulness.

And not of my Unworthiness.

And maybe threads are razor scars
And maybe life is really hard
And maybe blood will cover sin
On other men who trust in Him.

But sin in me blood still requires
It needs to burn with cutting fire.

It needs another sSacrifice.
But just of pain,
And not of life
And just of blood
And not of soul.
Just my part,
not my whole.

And maybe I am really small
And bigger problems hide it all
And maybe I can sleep at night
In spite of thoughts that give me fright.

'Cause maybe I'm not all that bad....

And maybe I can stand and fight...

But, probably, I'm just a mess
Who'll never get it right.