Jesus Is Come

Prepare

Jesus is come.

I saw her even before the season began

In the folksy yellow blossoms of a tulip gift.

 

Jesus is come.

I opened Skype one morning and there she was—

Struggling with grad school overload, hanging in.

 

Jesus is come.

He grinned at me, needing front teeth for Christmas:

The rest tarred and tangled. But how he grinned!

 

Jesus sang “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” with gusto if not with pitch,

And moments later swayed and gentled to “Silent Night.”

 

His child’s expectancy belied the violence that landed him in shelter;

Her shy teen smiled reached me behind locked gates.

 

Jesus sparked from yards seen from outer space

And pulled me close to feel His heart when the nightmares came.

 

I buttered her toast as she headed off to the work of need;

She paints magic to recoup.

 

Like me, Jesus has to eat, find shelter, balance work and refreshment.

 

I expect Jesus’ coming,

I open eyes wide,

strain ears for the sound of a distant motor,

sniff for change in the air.

 

I wait.

I am met.

 

But…no.

I’m not ready.

My house is a wreck.

I’m way too tired.

My relationships—muddled.

 

But Jesus is come

On the insistent dawn of this Christmas morn.

 

And I sit in mismatched jammies

Eyes wide, ears straining,

aching to touch the deep magic.

 

Jesus is come.

 

Here I am…

 

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Dark Night Collage

Dark Night

Dark NIght: Mixed-Media Collage

The mixed-media collage’s overall design depicts the Dark Night’s cyclical nature: successive nights and dawns accompany our entire life’s journey. The waves illustrate our sense of drowning in God’s sovereignty. Menacing, cold figures emerge beneath these waves, enticing us to give in to despair: one such “un-god” is depression. But leaping, resurrected, from the waves are souls who have emerged from the Night golden and grateful—beacons to the sufferers below.

The background, though dark, is not hollow of color—hues interplay in every section, for the Night is many-shaded and filled with marvelous diversity. It is the darkness of mystery and wonder. Two roads lead upward from the bottom portion of the collage. The first, coming in from the lower left edge, is a moving sidewalk. The other, coming up from the bottom of the piece, is a vacant house. I explicate these images in When God Walks Away: A Dark Night Companion.

The egg-shaped white sepulcher, housing both Dark-Night tomb and Dark-Night flame, is the center of action. The repeat flame above the sepulcher depicts a purgative Dark Night that awaits the sufferer. The sufferer within feels herself alone, off-balance, and tormented. She fears she has become one with the menacing figures that torment her, but her darkness is just a shadow—could she but see the transformation occurring in her soul, she would realize a golden glow is beginning already to radiate through her. She is, even now, becoming one with the One who blessed her with the Night.

A Bit Iffy? Pt. 2

The Clown and the Chosen Book Cover

The Clown and the Chosen: 2nd Book in Clown Series

Here’s a third thing about clowns: They’re foolish. It’s a bit iffy to portray God as foolish, right? Well, let’s take a look at that. The medieval court jester’s antics amused crowds at regal gatherings. But the jester had a second vocation: he alone was allowed to speak truth to the king without fear of reprisal. I think the art of stand-up comedy, at least when that comedy speaks hard truths, descends from the vocation of the medieval court jester. Painful truths go down easier with a spoonful of humor.

Plus, what do clowns do? Make fools of themselves. Literally. Whether they’ve cavorting around the ring in enormous pants, being chased by a bull, or throwing a bucketful of confetti into the crowd, they’re just unabashedly goofy. Right out in the open. In them we see ourselves: not the “put-together” image we present to the world, but our whole selves, complete with our inadequacies, our awkwardness, our confusion, our doubts. And we find, smiling at the clown’s bumbling, that those very things can be endearing, even loveable. Clowns invite us to love the whole of ourselves, even the stuff we hide beneath our greasepaint.

And clowns make magic. With their over-the-top wardrobes and wild antics, they delight and entrance. Clowns transport us to a place in which we are free enough to laugh aloud in delight rather than in derision. And, despite her costumed and grease-painted hiddenness, we know that the magicked world the clown creates is the one for which we yearn, because the clown’s world is more powerfully real than any status-quo security. In this world of deepest magic, we can be, at last, who we really are. And so we follow the clown, grease paint and all.

Which brings me to the Clown of my books. Following a Clown—that’s really foolish, right? At least to those who see that Clown as a mere buffoon. And yet there’s an unseen wisdom to our followship, because we are choosing to live in a joy-filled reality that erupts from time to time into the bland status quo, and we can be part of making that happen. To live for anything less is, well, just foolish.

So I hope my readers will see that “creepy” is not in a clown’s true nature, that clowns serve as holy metaphors, because their outward goofiness opens us to an earth-shattering wisdom hidden beneath the greasepaint—that we are loved just as we are, and that God intends to delight us, and to delight in us, for eternity.

Welcome!

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Thanks for dropping by. On this site I’ll describe why I do what I do: which is to make art out of letters & punctuation marks—as well as out of glue & blobs of color. And I’ll hope to hear back from you, because art making is a two-person dance.

The site offers two sections: written art and visual art. Take a look and, if you like, send me a response. Want to learn more? Follow the links to our website.

Here’s to the Dance!

Kaye P. McKee

Mystic's View