Dear Reader,
I’ve got a whole post brewing on the challenges of creating weekly “content” (a term I loathe and will tell you the reason why at a later date), but it’s not going to happen this week. In addition to my day job, I’ve been up to my eyeballs on a few other writing projects of note:
Over the weekend, I helped my mother, Charlotte, finish and order her Storyworth book, a collection of 52 chapters about her life. As a former English teacher, Mom embraced the subscription we gave her for Christmas last year and wrote a chapter a week across 2021, doing a great job sharing aspects of her life’s story. I handled the editing and layout and am really excited for the books to arrive at the end of next week.
We’re so close I can taste it in terms of finishing my friend’s memoir. Lord willing, the writing will be done in another ten days, and we’ll start the final editing and design process in March. It’s been nine months of hard weekly work, but it’s turning out well (so long as I don’t screw it up this weekend). If you pray, pray for diligence and determination to wrap it up so we can begin the next stage of production.
While my readership numbers since the beginning of 2022 have consistently been the highest they’ve ever been (thank you!), it’s been pretty quiet on the email front, which is fine. Here’s some encouraging feedback from a reader after last Friday’s newsletter, “Playing Grandfather”:
“[I’m] still starting (multiple) emails to respond to different things you're posting, but woefully lacking in time to complete them. That's not your fault though. Your content is dense (in the best way), and eventually (I hope) I'll have the time to engage it to completion. The podcast is worth the price of admission as well. I have two or three drafts of responses to points raised in your interview with Ms. Aubrecht, and I hope to have one headed your way...at some point.
All this to say: the evident work and time you're putting into this endeavor is worth it, at least to me. My only ‘complaint’ is that it's too worth my time to respond half-heartedly.”
A balm to my soul! While it takes time to put all this “content” (argh, again that word!) together, I recognize that it also takes time to digest. Thanks to everyone for whenever and however you do that, as well as for occasionally letting me know you do!
Enjoy this week’s Second Drafts, and as always, thanks for reading.
Craig
P.S.: As a reminder, you’re welcome and encouraged to email me directly with feedback, ideas, links, etc. at cmdunham [at] gmail [dot] com. Just know that, unless you specifically tell me not to, I may quote you here (though it will always be anonymously).
Hot Takes
Hot Takes will return next week (nothing pairs worse with poetry than news).
Feature: “Rhymes & Reasons”
I’ll be the first one to tell you that I’m no poet, nor that I formally know much about poetry. Rhythm, meter, structure—all good ideas (among others)—but I can’t really tell you the first thing about any of them. I know what I like when I read and hear it, but that implies that I spend time reading and listening to poetry in the first place, which might be a bit of a stretch to say.
I wish as a kid that I had committed large sections of good poetry to memory, but I didn’t; now as an adult, I wish I understood the art more, but I don’t.
This, of course, doesn’t mean I haven’t given the aforementioned elements of poetry a try in the form of songwriting. I’ve recorded five albums (roughly 50 songs) and written dozens more over time, but the melody and musical arranging always came easier than putting words to music. Still, I tried, learned, and got better at it (or at least I think I did). You can decide: the last four poems are lyrics to four of my songs.
There are some words, however, that I never set to music, nor ever made public. Most (not all) of those are what I’m sharing here…and I feel a little vulnerable doing so.
Prayers as Poems, Poems as Prayers
In one form or another, God heard these (or versions of these) prayers from me more than once, yet writing them down as poetry so someone with more of a human nature could understand them was difficult. To some ears, they may sound merely as “groanings,” as the Apostle Paul says (or as “whinings,” as I say), but as pathetic as some may seem, these words were and are meant to be honest, genuine, and true.
For better or for worse, this tends to be how I pray, no fooling. It just makes me more aware of how much grace I surely require from God, for if I can’t make sense of my own prayers, I have no idea how in the world (or apart from it) God does.
And yet I believe He does. When (okay, if) I pray, I trust that God somehow makes sense and “something other” of my prayers; sometimes, He may even share what He has made of them with me (though I never recognize it until long after the fact).
Caveats
A couple caveats (because every insecure attempt at art requires a few): all of these poems were written before or during seminary, when our family was young and I (in my mid-30s) was often at a loss—for sleep, for time, for wisdom—to help guide the five ladies God had entrusted to me to lead.
Each poem has a story behind and informing it, but good poetry shouldn’t require knowing the full narrative for someone to be able to relate to it, so I haven’t messed with explanations. Just read the poem (preferably out loud) and make it your own.
Finally, find yourself a quiet place and resist the temptation to hurry or “get through” the poems. Slowing down (among other things) is what poetry reading can help us do; if your time is silent and unhurried enough, you might even be able to pray.
Enjoy.
Prayer Haiku
It’s learning to breathe
Then learning to forget how
This is prayer to me
Morning
Light is the beginning
of my favorite part of day.
Hope and expectation,
if only they could stay.
I suppose if I would ask You,
perhaps You’d find a way
for hope and expectation
to never go away.
Last I Checked
Last I checked, I was alright,
but that was only a minute ago.
I should probably check again,
but that would only be a minute later.
And besides, I was alright,
last I checked.
Safe to Say
It’s safe to say
that I am a sinner.
To say otherwise
would be the real risk involved.
But I’m finally convincing myself
(or maybe You are).
I was wondering, though, God,
as You are witness, judge, and defense,
does my case have
to involve so many others?
It seems a little crowded
here in the courtroom.
Fallen
I feel fallen today.
Maybe—really—for the first time.
If it’s true—if chemistry is skewed—
then I can’t fix it.
Pride, I suppose, anger.
Doesn’t seem right.
Doesn’t seem fair.
Just seems fallen.
And it hurts.
Since fifth grade,
I remember being down.
Not always.
But I remember.
Gospel in pill form.
I’m a hopeful traitor.
Jesus should be enough.
You don’t seem to be.
And it hurts.
Wine Menu
Have mercy on me, O God,
lest your anger be all you have to offer.
Otherwise, I’d like to see
your wine menu,
that I might choose
the harshest grapes of wrath.
Sinner Wonderland
Snow falling down white
Like grace over human shame
Sinner wonderland
Complicated
I don’t feel too complicated,
though sometimes I’d like to be.
Because if I seemed more complicated,
more people would wonder about me.
Depending on My Mood
Depending on my mood,
You are either sovereign or biased;
You are good or absent;
You allow or You’re dead.
Depending on my mood,
You observe or You’re deaf;
You know or You’re behind;
You cause or You’re retired.
Depending on my mood,
You were or weren’t;
You are or aren’t;
You are to come or You have already left the building.
Depending on my mood,
my mood may not be
the best thing to depend on.
Savior Lullaby
(For Maddie, Chloe, Katie, and Millie)
Just let me hold you tightly
and take away your fear.
Just let me whisper lightly
the simple truth that I am here.
Just let me make things better
than they were before.
I will be your Savior,
I will be your Lord.
Just let me make a promise
that only I can keep.
Just let me sow a harvest
that's more than you could ever reap.
Just let me turn your fishes
into even more.
I will be your Savior,
I will be your Lord.
Just let me calm the fury
of your wind and waves.
Just let me take your worry
of what lies beyond the grave.
Just let me pay the ransom
that you cannot afford.
I will be your Savior,
I will be your Lord.
Father of the Fathers
I am a father to four, but often a father to none.
I am responsible, but not always responsive.
Do I think of You in this way? Perhaps.
You have a Book to explain Yourself; I have only a tongue.
Do I seem distant to them as You seem distant above?
Would that they saw You as a Father
when I mostly just see you as God.
Respect is a poor replacement for love.
Speak to me, Your son, that I may speak to them with Your care.
Comfort me as Your child, that I may comfort them as mine.
Hold my hand in Yours, that it may become mine to them.
God, father the fathers who long to be more than just there.
Us
(A poem for Megan on Mother’s Day)
A lot seems our lot in life these days.
Would you change it if you could?
Could we change us if we should?
I wonder what you think when you wonder what I feel.
Or is it “if” I feel, “if” you think—what's our deal?
And yet somehow we work.
Us.
Did you think it would be this hard?
Could you do it again, or do I not want to know?
Would you say if I asked, or should I just let it go?
I doubt you will say, but then you say, “Without a doubt.”
You doubt I believe you, but I believe there is some doubt.
And yet somehow we work.
Us.
But it's not us—at least not only.
Wouldn't we say we work in Him as He works in us?
If both or either ended, we could/would not keep trust.
I sense that you agree and agree that this makes sense.
The “one” of you and me requires the One of Three.
And this is how we work.
Us.
Sometimes
Will it still count if I stumble ‘cross the line
everyone else seems to be running toward?
I can’t quite keep up as the pace is not mine,
but I wish I could go on a little more.
Lord, has there ever been a more pitiful case,
anytime, anywhere, so desperate for grace,
as we both know I am?
‘Cause sometimes I make up the answers,
and sometimes I just don’t obey,
and sometimes I wonder if I even believe,
but, by grace, sometimes is not always.
Maybe the reason I crawl along the way
is I find it too narrow to walk upon.
It must be true that by grace I am saved.
By anything else I’d for sure be gone.
Lord, has there ever been a more sorrowful soul,
whose brokenness needs made mercifully whole,
as we both know I do?
‘Cause sometimes I make up the answers,
and sometimes I just don’t obey,
and sometimes I wonder if I even believe,
but, by grace, sometimes is not always.
Lord, is there any questions, is there any doubt
that you are my portion, my only way out,
as we both know You are?
‘Cause You always hold all the answers.
You always give cause to obey.
And in me you always seem to believe,
and my sometimes is not Your always.
Sweeter Still
It will be sweeter still when I’ve fought the good fight.
It will be sweeter still when I’ve finished the race.
It will be sweeter still to know I’ve kept the faith
and to see You face to face.
To finally be poured out and be offered up as drink,
to know the time has come, ‘cause Your thoughts are all I’ll think,
to at last surrender all to the goodness of Your will,
to hear You say my name will be sweeter still
It will be sweeter still to see all that’s in store.
It will be sweeter still to put on my crown.
It will be sweeter still to be clothed in righteousness.
It will be sweeter still to bow down.
To finally be poured out and be offered up as drink,
to know the time has come, ‘cause Your thoughts are all I’ll think,
to at last surrender all to the goodness of Your will,
to hear You say my name will be sweeter still
More Than Enough
My eyes don’t open wide enough,
these ears don’t hear so well,
to see all I was meant to see
to hear all You would tell.
Your fingers set the stars above,
yet your love shines down on me.
O, Lord, I’m overwhelmed by your majesty,
more than enough for me.
Your greatness, Lord, your mystery,
more than enough for me,
more than enough for me.
My mind’s too small to understand,
these lips fall short of You.
You’re much too big to comprehend,
my words will never do.
Your ways are higher than the clouds,
yet your love rains down on me.
O, Lord, I’m overwhelmed by your majesty,
more than enough for me.
Your greatness, Lord, your mystery,
more than enough for me,
more than enough for me.
You are far beyond measure, perfect in sovereignty.
You are the ultimate treasure, more than enough,
more than enough, more than enough for me.
O, Lord, I’m overwhelmed by your majesty,
more than enough for me.
Your greatness, Lord, your mystery,
more than enough for me,
more than enough for me.
Finally, Goodbye
(A Benediction)
The amazing grace of Jesus,
the extravagant love of God,
the intimate friendship of the Spirit
be with you each one and all.
May you come to cherish every memory
and not forget this time and place.
May the joy that you take with you
be the strength that you need to continue the race.
May you seek the will of Him who called you
through a promise you can pray.
May the sin that would bring you tears
find His gentle forgiveness and be washed away.
The amazing grace of Jesus,
the extravagant love of God,
the intimate friendship of the Spirit
be with you each one and all.
May your every word be one of kindness,
your every thought be tried and true.
May your heart never compromise
in being who that you are and in all that you do.
May you always know His hand of blessing
and the peace that never ends.
May your faith in the things unseen
be the faith He would find when He comes back again.
The amazing grace of Jesus,
the extravagant love of God,
the intimate friendship of the Spirit
be with you each one and all.
And this, this is my prayer for you,
my hope and my heart’s cry.
For now, there’s nothing left to say but
finally, goodbye.
The amazing grace of Jesus,
the extravagant love of God,
the intimate friendship of the Spirit
be with you each one and all.
Post(erity): “Recitation & the Progress of Humanity”
Each week, I choose a post from the past that seems apropos of something (of course, you’re always welcome to search the archives yourself whenever you like).
This week’s post, “Recitation & the Progress of Humanity,” comes from November of 2018. In it, I shared an observation from a student’s relative who appreciated what our school was doing to help students memorize prose and poetry. An excerpt:
“I don't know all that our student’s uncle was thinking when he claimed to see ‘the progress of humanity’ at Petra. I'm guessing he caught a glimpse of how young students learning to handle prose and poetry in a monthly recitation might and across the years prepare those same students to stand before (and sometimes against) one another in healthy dialogue and debate as to the greater good later. Since that’s rarely done much anymore, I better understand his wistful surprise.”
Until next time.