Rob Krabbe's Blog: From a Krabbe Desk

The Depths of Me: Psalm 139

© 2013 Rob Krabbe

You have searched me, the depths

of me, the known and the hidden of

me and you know me through and

through and through, the soul, and

heart of me, that I try to hide but

you know all you created.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

my thoughts, voices from inside,

and outside, demons from my hidden

heart, and ghosts from afar. Believe

me, there is no secret place; no

such space still I wonder if there is

such a place, hidden from You.

Sometimes, I think if I could just

make it darker, more isolated.  More

alone.  More sad. More dead. I try

that instead, but no. Dead end.

My going out and my lying down; and

you are familiar with all of it, and

the words I say, inside and out.

Before my tongue tastes a single

infected word, you know the heart

and mind that expressed it.

You are before me, behind me, aside

me, and your hand is on me. I don’t

get why I have such favor, or why they

call it being in favor. I don’t get why

You make such effort, for me, but I

suppose that even that feeling means

I make You too small in my own mind.

Where can I go from your Spirit

Where then would that place be. Where

can I flee from your presence? If I

travel to the stars, or the heavens,

you are there; if I dive deep into the

oceans or rivers, you are waiting for

me there. If I rise on the wings of the

dawn of hope, and new days, if I settle

on the far side of the mountains,

You welcome me when I get there.

Your ways are like a chaos to me, but

You are there, no matter where. Before

I even thought to be anywhere.

Your hand guides me, your right hand

holds me fast, protects me from myself ;

puts my fears on a top shelf, and when

I am not paying any attention, you toss

them away, behind me, into hell.

If I say, “the darkness, yes the deep

darkness will hide me and the light

become night around me,” even the

darkness will flee from you; the night

will shine like the day; depth of night,

the middle of the darkness is just like

light to you.

Why do I even wonder about all of

this? For you created my inmost being;

you pieced me together yourself. So

I need to just get in the groove and

accept the reality. I understand nothing

and yet I understand everything, when I

simply praise you because I am fearfully

and outrageously made; I know your

works are wonderful, I know that full

well, and then I suppose that my own

feelings about me need to be set aside,

and I need to trust the way You see me.

I just need to trust You.

So search me, God, fully, and know

my heart, my mind; test me and know

my anxious thoughts. See if there

is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in *Your* ways.

Beneath the Great Burial Mound

© 2013 Rob Krabbe From Rob’s new book “Carnitas and Manic Mango Salsa: Surviving Mental Illness Long Enough to Make Pork Tacos, and Other Dangerous Things.”  To Be Released in July 2013.

 

Beneath the Great Burial Mound

 

Do you see the flag up high?

It once fluttered against a dazzling sky

     but has long been forgotten.

 

All that remains is the echo of its sound.

 

An old tattered banner celebrates

     a half-finished housing development

     crumbling into yesterday.

 

Ashen summer winds pass

     over the saluting

     desperate struggles long past.

 

Torn remnants of eager lives and

     forgotten dreams decay in the dirt.

 

Aimless echoes of ancient Indian spirits.

 

Tenuous shuffle of desiccated

     leather-strapped sandals dragged

     across fields, one moccasined foot

     after another on the hunt for the

     buffalo that’s gone… gone…

  

Shreds of rotting combat boots

     draped over blistered bleeding feet

     during a break between struggles

      for God and country.

 

Harmonica melodies drift

     into the campfire sky and fall

     lightly across the plains

     into a hollow where a

     mummified corpse rests

     in peace, unaware that

     his own hunting season

     was long ago.

 

She’s not alert to the voices

     that boast of old conflicts

     once played out

     on what was sacred ground;                  

     all she wants is a drive-through-snack

     on the way home from work.

 

Her shining young face turns

     into the summer wind and

     she steps off the curb into sudden

     knowing; falls like a rag doll

     tossed into an ancient pile of dirt

     accumulated over time

     by the side of a random road.

 

The truck screams through the breaks;

     the driver enters two worlds,

     his last thoughts adding to the whisperers

     caught between           

     dream and forever fading there.

 

There is no hope for tomorrow, now,

     beneath the ‘Great Mound’ on the

      southern Illinois prairie.

 

The Meaning of Life, From an Old King

 © 2013 by Rob Krabbe, Based on Ecclesiastes 1-4, and excerpted from the book “Carnitas and Manic Mango Salsa: Surviving Mental Illness Long Enough to Make Pork Tacos, and Other Dangerous Things” by Rob Krabbe, to be released late 2013.

 

Shadows-of-meaning, illusion and lies, everything fades, everything dies. Shadows-of-meaning, fading, steam from a grave. What is there to show, or to know, for a lifetime? Effort, struggle, work, and dreams?   Working till you’re half dead, burned up, faded out; health wanes, death waxes, and the constant?   You already know. Fading til faded, and a fresh wet grave.

Generations work building empires. Poor and rich alike, thrust spires into the sky. Did you forget Babel? Generations die, paupers and kings. Everyone dies. Working hard, towards the grave, at the helm of the ship, and generations die.

It’s a heavy burden, God, not to even know what is worth the effort.

Youth takes over, of course, but youth becomes old and dies.  Fading to another fresh grave. my children at the reins? Yes, until their death.  Vapors. The world spins, the earth quakes. The storms come and go, the sun rises, falls and the sun sees all,  from his lofty old place, that jolly old elf. Reminds me of myself. Men’s dreams of conquest fall. Governments “put in some work” making great plans for mankind. Personal gain, “greed works!”

New governments, soon in the history books; gone.  Ghosts dancing after shadows. It’s a heavy burden, God, not to even know what is worth the effort. Nothing new? I laugh so hard a bit of lunch comes up. Indeed my friend, nothing, nothing, nothing, everything ends that’s been tried.

Still someone says . . .  Look at this new thing!  People marvel. Then that dies. Depressing.

All the waters rush nervously to join the sea. The winds rush frantically to their destiny. The sea, very happy to suck up the water, spits it to the sky, doing its thing with the wind’s help, comes round full circle. Rains fall, and water rushes in rivers to the sea, all over again.   Work, work, work, feels satisfying. Is the eye, however, never satisfied with the view? Is the ear, however never satisfied with the sounds? In all this wonder, the soul drowns.

Nothing new, nothing, nothing, nadda, zippo, zip. Everything has still been tried, and yet, again, some new man says, get ready for this: (I’m holding my laughter) “Look at this new thing!” Yet when he holds it up, his hands are empty, because it is already a reflection of what used to be. All the great things and small, that happened years ago. All the great people and humble, that lived years ago, None are remembered now. Even those born tomorrow, are already dead, into a new wet grave. Ideas, and people of greatness tossed into the hole with the dreams, and piles and piles of potential to cover over the bodies.

The “teacher,” let’s face it, King of all Israel, handsome man: He was a learner, a good thing. He was a wise man, a good thing. He was man who tried to figure out the mysteries and happenings of this world under heaven. He saw much, and all of it, shadows of meaning, illusion. “It was like trying to catch the wind,” he said. Trying to find meaning in this life. Futile attempts were made, to sort it all out.

However, even for the highest of the earthly king: if it was twisted, it stayed twisted; if it was only a dream, it could not be counted awake.

He said to himself (the king), I sure have gotten damned wise more than any king before me. My experiences are vast, in wisdom and knowledge I have even impressed myself greatly!

Yet also in madness, and even just outright fun craziness. Trying to find meaning, I learned that I would sooner catch the wind. Wisdom brought me down, like a dead shot, I crashed and burned. Knowledge brought me trouble, and further down, to an old, old familiar grave. The only good was to be home again. And I went home to the fresh wet grave too. Now my grave is dust, my bones are dust. My memories are a ghost fading into the wind. Gone.  In my heart, I thought “I have the best idea, you ready???? . . . pleasure;  there’s the thing to try! Enjoy myself fully, and I laughed till I cried.

Then thinking: foolishness was the thing, dancing, with balloons, naked under the stars. More wine! Find out what is meaningful . . . but it was only for a time. Then, shadows of meaning, fading. Then I really tried drinking.  I thought, a taste of the wild side, some wine, and more, some fun, some smoke, some pills, a little green brownie, and I covered all manner of  late nights and harmless mindless foolishness. Then, of course, we did think some great thoughts. 2 A.M. wisdom with deep buzzing philosophy. New thoughts now? Always consider the effects of being high wisely.

I wanted to see what was worth anything at all. Out of all the things men do, what was worthwhile? For the length of a man’s life, what really works? I found shadows of meaning, fading, and a really bad hangover.   I tried being a productive man. Suit and tie, taking notes, leaning in and listening. Presidential and finery so fine, I built things, houses, gardens, fields of crops. I ran pipes, and watered fields of trees, and built aqueducts. I grew food, and I thought, that’s the thing! The very thing everyone needs. Hero of the blogs. Feed the world! Did I capture the real meaning?

Nope.

I began to collect things that make a man. Servants, money, power,  houses, castles and other kings.

Herds of animals, cars, churches, and monuments; the list goes on, and on. But then nothing does (go on, that is). Treasures heaping piles in my warehouse. Things fit for a king, [and I am certainly one]. Singers, musicians, and women.

Ooo, let me tell you about the women!

My book was full of phone numbers  and email addresses, and all of them with several stars. The most gorgeous and pleasurable . . . God’s creation, hallelujah!   I was the envy of all men, everywhere. I would have envied myself, but I am king.

A collection of life beyond compare. My value was sky high, and I felt I was better than anyone, yet with all this heady stuff,  I was still as wise as I could be. I denied myself nothing I wanted, I refused myself not a single desire of my heart. Even my work was satisfying. My heart swelled with joy for a moment in time. And a swollen heart was my reward, and chest pain, nothing more; for all my efforts, in time. When I finally looked around at my life. At my wealth. At my collection of people. Places and things; I realized, it was an illusion. Shadows of meaning, just out of grasp, fading. Again, a chasing after the wind.

So back to wisdom. What more can the king do, than the king before? Wisdom was better than craziness of course. Just as light was better than darkness. The wise man sees where he is going, while the fool stumbles around in the darkness. Yet, here’s the irony: you ready? They both have the same end in a fresh wet grave.

Then it hit me, wise old king, Deep in my heart, I thought, the result of the foolish life,  takes a person to the grave also.  What do I gain living wise? Deep in my heart, I surmised, shadows of meaning, fading. For neither the wise man nor the fool, will be long remembered. In days to come,  both are done, both are dead, both are dust. both must, die, fade.

I began to hate life, especially the work. Since it was all a shadow of meaning, or a chasing after the wind. I hated all the things, I felt I had wasted my time to achieve. What sense does it make to make such a great effort, and leave it all behind? To those who don’t really care anyway. Wise? Or foolish, I have no say, they just walk in and take over, they may burn my empire to the ground, what have I to say? For I am a shadow of meaning, fading. Man, I felt bad.  Depression set in yet once again. What very wise man said, there is a time for everything? That means, everything: birthing, killing, dying, living healing, infecting, building, demolishing weeping, laughing, grieving, dancing pimping, limping, hating, lancing, fucking, suckling, prancing, defying scattering, gathering, tossing, fancying catching, dropping, messing and mopping.

Whew!

And a time to refrain, ok here we go again: its a loop, a time to find your keys, to get to your knees, losing, choosing, a time for thank you and please.

A time for embracing, chasing, and a time to lay off. Keep the clock, lay on the dock, wear a smock or just plain get paint all over yourself. A time to try harder, be smarter, search or hide, a time to keep secrets, tell stories, or trust and confide. A time to fix it up, or tear it down. A time for war, for peace, for truce. So what’s in it for me, for you? What does the job pay? For a week or a day? I’ve seen what God lays on people; beauty, and a heart for eternity, although not a person really gets it; what He’s done. What He’s given, created, sacrificed and won. From the beginning to the end, from the start to the finish. From the first light to the end of the night. There’s nothing that does it more, after all this searching, than to find a way to be happy.

CRAP!  To find a way to be filled with joy! Eat, drink, dance, play and do all these things, in your work too. Although the drink, well, maybe lay off that till quitting time. God says, look around, enjoy, just give me the credit once in a while, give me the nod. Don’t forget, some day the bill comes; don’t forget.

Just so you know, I did look towards judgment: I found evil. I looked towards human justice. I found evil. So give that a rest. Leave that to God’s wisdom, as I said. There is a time for everything and that same God will look at the accounts, and weigh the costs and present the bill; my advice: get it paid!

Just so you know, live like a crap head, die like a crap head; as crap heads die, so we will too. On your own, you can’t be anything but a crap head who really knows if there will be crap heads in heaven? Not my business, but I’ll try a little not to be a crap head anyway, just in case. To sum up; party, dance, run and play, from the middle of the night to the middle of the day. Even back again, and when its time for work well we covered that, there is a time for everything. The power, the authority, the man to be, the man still in control, still in his hole, and still there was no peace, no rest, no righteousness.

So one day I said, from the top of my parapet: The dead, are, drop dead happier than the living. Even the zombies have more fun. The walking dead at least get a cool time under the sun. Then they are, as we said, dead, but the best place to be is the not yet. The soon to be, not as much, but the not yet, the time to get, the far off in the sunset. Even the good that mankind does, is a lie.  Chase the wind, boy, meaningless.  Fading, son. Foolish man, the fool, fold your hands, and die. Better open one hand at least, to accept life. Sadly you have only one mouth for your lie, and one hand for the sky! Or, fool, one hand for peace, at least, but the true fool uses two hands for life’s work. So just go chase the wind now, and waste no more time, for yours is a chasing of the wind.

Then I saw loneliness, like a demon, spread into a man. Take him down, to the ground, no son, no brother. No significant other, not even a life’s partner to hide from the conservative right. Wealth piled high, his treasures piled higher. “For whom am I working? Why do I work for myself when I am a liar? No enjoyment, just piles higher and higher. Now my stuff owns me, I am the slave. And all this time, I worked and behaved.” His business is a miserable one, If he falls down, no one helps him up. He just lays there upside down, like a turtle, rotting in the rising sun. Yet the man who has nothing but nothing, and one poor friend, has a better end, and a better time. As he is pulled out from under the sun, watch them lie down together, those two, misunderstood, misjudged as lovers. Watch the people raise their eyes; brows and all but they are warm through the night, and they help each other when one of them falls. How can one keep warm alone? The righteous man is overpowered by himself. But when twined like a rope, the two, can do; when braided together, the three and a three way, not easily broken (and can be fun).  Four together, forget it, this is no token attempt (and can get you arrested). This is common defense, team spirit.  Together we stand, divided we say FALL, but its true. Do you mind if I just sit here with you? So, better a poor wise young homeless guy, than an old but foolish king, who no longer hears the warning. Who no longer has warmth at night. Who lies in a heap without the ability to get up. The young homeless man may come straight out of jail, and become king, or born in a hell hole without a thing. Then of course the new young man was also a horrible king, but no one cared, because this too was stupid and faded away. And this new foolish king, chased after the same wind. Under the same sun.

Now my friends; into the Great House of God Up the steps, into the foyer. Odd, it’s pretty bright up ahead in that room. Stop for a moment, think, think, think, and then don’t think anymore for a while; that, my friend is feasting in style! To just be! Magnificent. The fools go in to say things. The real fools ask questions. Such important things to say to God, I’m sure. To rant, to rave, mostly they don’t know how to just be there.  They have no real clue, the things they really, and truly and foolishly do.

Quiet, listening, searching, emptiness. Take time, to just be, to listen, to just keep. Hold my freaking breath, puts off my freaking death. Just time with the Spirit of the Ages, is a mountain of wisdom from the sage of the sages. What do you really have to say to God anyway? For me, not a damned thing, and quickly. I just want God to let me pull the rope to make the big bell ring, honk the big truck horn once, now that would be cool. Most sleepless nights I dream when my mind won’t shut down. My dreams are not any kind of wisdom, just rattling around with my crap on the ground. The ravings of a fool, so many words, so many things said foolishly out loud to the universe.  Screamed out boldly, as if I had anything to say to the planets. Instead, emptiness, hard to come by, priceless to own. Lay it down they say, how do I do that in just one moment.

In just one lost and lonely day? Silence and emptiness is gold. It is better, by far, than the meaningless vapors, the drivel of my soul. Worse indeed, my mind, when it utters a lie, to cover the fact or to hide my foolishness. Surely I can’t promise anything, say anything, but my word better be my damned word if I do. Or damned I will be, because, whose house am I in after all? Fools rush in and promise the world. The world they don’t even own. Just to get a nod, from a god they barely even believe in.  Simpletons, and wanting to die, fade into nothingness. I would rather make no promise, no opinion, things I never really meant, because like kindling, they make a great fire.

I would rather come out of this great house having stolen wisdom and words from the creator. From the one who placed the stars in the skies and named them all, then to pretend I have anything at all to offer. Rest in the arms of the One. I will ask Him if I may dwell in this great house of His, and His spirit, which has roamed these halls of the universe for all time. My words are crap, and burn even brighter. I look at the hungry, the left out, the poor all lined up. I see the proud and mighty standing over, watching like vultures instead of healers. The King, well, candidly makes his due as well. It costs a lot to keep this great palace of mine. And to have a golden chair on which to rest my behind.

I see the lovers of money and things, and once that bell rings in a heart, the heart has a bottomless black hole for more like an old whore, an addiction, the more I have, the more I want. I’m not immune to sin. I want it again, and again, and again, and in the end, it’s all meaningless vapor, shadows of meaning, fading. I would just like to die while I have my eyes on the prize, or from non-stop.  When money is for all that I strive, I would die, for all time.

So naked came first, from my mother’s womb. And naked I go to the cold empty tomb. Nothing gold came with me, nothing gold will rot with me in the grave. My nakedness, is the only reality I save. So I dance naked! Celebrate my nothingness! And the grace is enough from a God above all, who gets the worship, and praise, and glory. On a bon fire, hot and bright, burning all through the night. A fire light is fueled with gladness of heart and I have found, it burns bright enough, to burn up all of the foolishness. Keeps me busy now, with gladness and gratitude.

Let’s just invite more, to the day’s work bash. And tomorrow we’ll work even harder for cash. So we can invite more to the party, so more can eat hearty, for all the days of our lives. That, my friend, is not meaningless,  but the “rest of the story,” the reflection of Glory, is mercy and grace, and just a glimpse of the One’s face.

I may not ever understand, but the manna in hand, passing out a fullness in Him throughout all the land, filling every stomach with spiritual food, and every heart with praise! For all of our nights, and for all of our days!

The Growing List Of Things That Just Don’t Matter.

I’m coming up on my fifty second birthday.  There are things I don’t like, as I get older.  And many, many things I do, that I didn’t even notice before.  I like a sunny day, and boring things like that.  I dream one day of going off-grid, even though I probably wouldn’t give up my Facebook long enough to do it.  My favorite vacation is the time my wife and I went to a cabin in the mountains above Gatlinburg, a place we almost had to four-wheel-drive to get to.  We rented a couple movies, did a couple days of sightseeing, but the rest of the time, we just sat around and said “wow” at the view.  Boring?  Not for us.

At my ripe old age I like brussel sprouts, and very fresh fish.  I don’t care as much for pizza as I used to, and I don’t do well with chemicals and preservatives in my food, just because Melissa is allergic and I am now not used to them.

Here’s the big one, I don’t like talking politics for any reason with any person.  I try hard, not to participate in dinner table debates, or comment on political posts on Facebook.  I don’t speak of my opinions at church. In fact, no one there would likely be able to guess what party I am registered with (by the way, I am registered with the national “Send Them All Home” party).  When I visit my dad, I smile and nod as much as I can, because we get along now as adults much better than we did when I was a rebellious teenager, and he is pretty convinced of his views and frankly I don’t always disagree, and even when I do, I simply don’t have a need to convince him anymore.  I’d rather just have the good part of the relationship, and leave the politics to the voting booth.

I know politics are important, and I am a “patriot, more than a pinhead” and I know this thanks to a famous conservative commentary.  I’m not advocating apathy, and I’m not saying that I don’t care, in fact, quite the opposite is true.

But here’s the deal:  I am just tired.  Dead tired.  Tired of conflict.  Tired of anger, fighting, killing, the evening news, the wonderfully salacious, and even the beautifully sexual, because mostly it wants to sell me something.  Tired of being told if I don’t fit into a size 32 pants and can’t run a fast 5K I’m less of a human being.  Tired of being too fat, too thin, too small, too big, too educated, too worldly.  Tired of being told what to feel, what to buy, what to believe, what to love, what to hate, what to eat, and what not to eat.  I can’t keep track of what is killing me one year and is a good antioxidant the next.  Coffee and red wine, both bad for you and both the best things you can have at least once a day.  I am more and more convinced that more and more of our lives are about the way we behave as consumers, and I’m over that now.  I do suspect every telephone company truck has government secret agents in it, and they are watching me.  Don’t go into the convenience store, they take your picture and they know where you live.  Just kidding.  But really, it’s true.

I have lots of feelings, one way or the other about the events of the day, but here is the way most of them affect me.  For example, gay rights, and gay marriage vs.  the pristine ordained marriage between one man and one woman.  I am not gay, so it doesn’t affect me really (right?).  I do know I would not want a gay person telling me that I could not get married because I was straight, and only gay marriage was ordained.  And I would be extra angry if there was a discount I could get on my taxes or other costs if I was just a little gay.  So here’s my position.  I believe my marriage was God’s plan for my life.   I’m grateful more than I can express for that marriage.  I believe that a gay person’s marriage is between them and God, too.  If it’s right, God will bless it, and if it’s not God’s will, God will take care of that, too. Frankly I am still too freaking busy trying to figure out if I am good enough to throw the first stone yet.  (I’m not.)

So I have a plan.  A new plan.  I have decided that there is so much more is on my “It doesn’t matter to me” list than ever before.  In fact, that list was very small when I was young, but it is huge now and growing exponentially with every year.  So I am re-tooling now for the next phase of life.  The wonderful fifties.  I love the age I am now, and it’s getting better all the time.

I have a plan that should provide more efficiency.  I am starting a list of what I DO care about.  From now on, everything will start automatically on the “doesn’t matter” list.  The “things that matter” list will be guarded judiciously, and anything that ends up there will have to be defended regularly to remain.  One of the main filters in my new way of thinking will be the filter of grace giving instead of grace killing (thanks to C. Swindol). I will live in a permanent state of “First Stone Grace,” meaning that the task of considering my own sin (before I get to throw that first stone as in John 8:7) is too great a task for me to ever really get around to judging others, and I will live in that “First Stone” state of mind.  Not cheap grace, because it wasn’t cheap, it cost a lot, but grace none-the-less; a grace so big, and so complete that I will never be done sizing it up against my own gratitude.  In fact, I may not have time to judge anyone else for a very long time, and my list of things that don’t matter is going to have to cover a lot more stuff.

 

To Fade Away

Noon At Night Publications

© 2013 by Rob Krabbe

Noon At Night, the name, was inspired by a verse from the Bible that we found while in a meeting of band mates in 1984:

Isaiah 58:10

New King James Version (NKJV)

“If you extend your soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul, then your light shall dawn in the darkness, and your darkness shall be as the noonday.”

After a hundred plus names were considered, we chose Noon At Night as the final name for our punk rock band. When we played, our angst was unbridled, but like so many things angst fades. The name, however, lives on, and since 2008 Noon at Night has been publishing all types of fine art, books, poetry, songs, films, web sites, and doing all manner of work in digital marketing and design. And occasionally a little punk rock, old school.

Sometime over the past few years, the company called NoonAtNight Publications was born.  It didn’t happen overnight but, as many companies are founded by mistake, NANP came from a need for artists and authors to publish their projects in an increasingly changing digital world.  As we got more and more requests for help by creative, but less computer savvy artists, we found that there was a market for such “publishing” help and thats how NoonAtNight the indie publisher was born.

Traditional publishing is dwindling and indie publishing is on fire right now.  With Kindle, and other eBook formats as well as POD (print on demand) publishing available for all sorts of art, including books and music, artists now have much more control over their work.  Artists that only a few short years ago had a tough time getting their work published by traditional publishing companies can now publish on their own.  And the need for formatting, design helps and marketing of those projects is what gave way to the need for a new breed of publishing company.

So, welcome to NoonAtNight Publications. We are excited to be a part of this new digital age!

I Want to Know What Really Matters

© 2013 by Rob Krabbe

Unity, does that mean all of us?

I pray that what matters to God matters to me. Unity must have been important to Jesus. Unity, not just among the disciples, and his family and friends, but unity amongst all of us. It must have been important because the night he was to be arrested, Jesus, knowing what he was looking ahead to, prayed for unity, and for all of humanity.

I look around today, at the church, the body of Christ, the whole lot of us, denominations, non-denominationals, warts and all. While we jostle and maneuver around theological points, and styles, and traditions, war over worship styles and points of doctrine, and while the entire lot of us judge those that are not of us, Jesus, well, I wonder if he shakes his head and asks “were you even listening?” As I meditate on unity or the lack of it, I go back to the bible for wisdom, specifically to the book of John to read again, Jesus own words.

I pray that what matters to God matters to me.

John 17:20-26

New International Version (NIV)

20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22 I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— 23 I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

24 “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.

25 “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. 26 I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”

I am left with the slightly poignant understanding that on the night when Jesus was to be arrested, tried and crucified, he did not ask for more time, or complain, or express fear or misgivings. He did not ask for God to slay His enemies, which He had the power and authority to do. He did not ask for God to help each of us discern which pigeon holes to slap each other into, or to identify the “true” followers, but He prayed for UNITY. In fact, the NRSV says “so that they may be brought to complete unity.” I don’t know about you but the word “complete” seems . . . pretty complete.

The word complete reminds me of the word “all” in 1st Timothy 2:1 “I urge, then, first of all, that petitions, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for all people—.” Not some, not a few, not those we agree with. Not partial unity either, or unity amongst the Presbyterians, or the Lutherans, or the Jews for Jesus, or the “God is a great almighty cosmic muffin” believers either, but all, in complete unity.

I am on a new study this year I think. At fifty one years old I want to look through the scriptures and Identify all the things I thought God said but it turns out He did not. I want to locate all the things that I thought mattered, that it turns out don’t And I want to find all the truths that mattered enough to God that as Jesus kneeled ready to give up His life for us, He thought enough to take the time to pray for.

I pray that what matters to God matters to me.

I pray for unity. Amongst all of God’s people, even those we disagree with. Unity is a closed ended word, a simple word. It means unified. Not a little, but completely UNIFIED.

 

Just Another Day Before the End of the World

© 2013 Rob Krabbe, Noon At Night Publications

I checked the obituary,

and since I’m not listed,

I made coffee.

I woke to a wonderful

mutating perspective.

Death used to run from me,

but I don’t chase it anymore.

I am ambiguous about it.

 

Some day it will chase me,

Except that I won’t run.

I’m not brave.

I’m not fool hearty.

I’m a man, addicted to hope.

When this life is ended;

that moment,

or this moment;

my last thought

will be of,

what wonders,

. . . what glory lay

beyond the next horizon.

Then I’ll make coffee.

You’re On The Air With The Jazz Doctor

© 2011 Rob Krabbe – NoonAtNight Publications – Krabbe.com

The gravel chewing velvet voiced
Rebel Bowling Alley Don Juan
come 2 A.M. radio announcer,
chain smoking insomnia,
and spinning vinyl smooth jazz
old school, lips caressing
every cheesy winking word,
finger-points his Dollar General

wisdom like dice against a

gold framed black light velvet Elvis.

For some unknown reason,

one reefer imbued morning

after a double shift at 5 A.M

he says, “Hey all you zombies

out there, doin’ this job is kinda

like herding cats.” and then

he choked up a wheezy

cigarette laugh and spun a

cut from Mother Focus,

called “Oh, I Need a Bathroom.”

What kind of an asshole

tries to herd cats?

Rob Krabbe’s new speculative fiction/novel available now!

“The Jake Collins Band and the Fading Silence“

A New Novel by by Rob Krabbe

Jake Collins had worked his whole young life to get to that night. Rock and roll, the big times. The boys knew they had made it. Three number one hits, a sold out amphitheater concert in Tinley Park, Chicago, and a five album deal.

The crowd was insane. The music was great. The energy was legendary.

But, what happened next was even bigger. Life, as they knew it, was suddenly and irrevocably changed by powers they could never have imagined in a million years.

Rock and roll, became life and death. The beginning of super-stardom, became the unexpected adventure of a lifetime, and the world they knew became the world that was never the same again.

Join Jake Collins, singer-songwriter, rock and roll star, and all around sexy guy; Ray, an old crazy librarian; Sa’li, a female Cherokee retro-warrior with a bad attitude; Drummer Dave, a optimistic drummer bordering on total madness; Mara, gorgeous young thief, with a talent for scavenging and making conversation; Big T, a bear of a mountain man bent on revenge and some great barbeque; Bradley, a seven foot tall, 450 pound government created experimental killing machine with a childlike sense of humor, and Garcia Garcia, an East LA want-to-be, urbane refugee and ticket scalper, who was also a drag queen on alternate Thursday nights, as one world ends and another begins, in this thrilling adventure story that brought them all together to survive, make a new life, and try to figure out who they are becoming if they live through the day to find out.

 

My new novel is getting some great reviews.  Here is one of them.  Please do pick up your copy today!

Thanks,

Rob

 

 

WHAT A MAGNIFICENT COMING OF AGE TALE- Rob Krabbe has created a true emotional experience for the reader, as one delves into the lives of a diverse group of people- brought together by extreme circumstances. This novel is far more than a simple character tale- it is a complex human drama- written in such a way as to grab the reader by the heart and brain and not let go.

Very Highly Recommended

AN OFFICIAL JAMES MASON COMMUNITY BOOKCLUB MUST READ

RICK FRIEDMAN

FOUNDER

THE JAMES MASON COMMUNITY BOOK CLUB