Blogging Everyday in July|A Poem for a Pastor

I moved to Florence and inadvertently claimed the Ark as my church.  The Ark is a lighthouse to this area.  Lighthouses tend to follow me (or lead me?) wherever I go.  The college I went to uses a lighthouse as its symbol.  The church I went to in Mammoth was called Lighthouse and is a lighthouse to the nations.  And now I’m here, part of yet another lighthouse.  A place where the lost can be found.  A place where maybe I’ll be found.
A couple weeks ago my pastor(?) and some of my friends came to my place of work for a coffee and a hang.  I sat with them on my break and Phillip Clemons, the father of the Ark, the pastor, found out I was a writer and was blogging everyday in July and said I should write a poem about him.  The thing is, when I’m part of a church, I’m usually far too involved, either because my school requires me to or… no, that’s pretty much it; church has been a requirement of school for me for a long time.  So of course I had relationship with the pastors.  But here, for the first time in a long time, I have had the option to blend in.  So I haven’t really gotten to know my pastor.  So much, that it’s strange to call him that.  Am I one of his sheep?  (Because the word pastor comes from the Latin word for shepherd.)  But I have chosen the Ark.  Because I love the community I have found there.  Thus Phillip Clemons is my pastor.
Anyway, he said I should write a poem about him.  So I did.  But since I don’t actually know him, this was a challenge.  Because I’m not perfect.  I’ll stop stalling now.

Phillip Clemons
Wise like an owl
Fierce like an eagle
Taking flight
Taking flight
Taking flight

Over and over again
Leading fearlessly
Because there is nothing to fear

The roar of a lion
Fire is called down
Lives change
Hearts heal
All because of obedience

Abundant blessing
Blessing begets blessing begets blessing
Simply blessed

A voice worth hearing
A call worth responding
A vision gifted
Clear as day

Helper to the helpless
Finder of the lost

Wise like an owl
Fierce like an eagle
Took flight
Born to soar

Do You Ever?

Do you ever lay in bed thinking about ending your life?  Even when you’re happy?  Even when you have people who love you and a job that you like going to?
And really, if you said anything, there would probably be some big freak out.  Because thinking about something obviously means you’re going to do it.  But you wouldn’t.  You have no reason to.  It’s not even something that you want to do, it’s just something that you think about.  Do you ever wonder if that’s okay?

Do you ever wonder why people say death is a coward’s option?  They accuse you of running away.  They accuse you of being afraid.  They say that you’re not brave.
But you must be so much braver.  Because jumping from some high place is terrifying.  What if you fail?  That would be so much worse.
And a failure might be even braver.  Because now everyone knows your secret.  There is no hiding anymore.

Do you ever wonder why these thoughts come in the first place?  Maybe they’re normal.  The French have a saying about the beckoning void.  Being tempted to jump from a high place, or to slit your arm open when you have a knife in your hand in the kitchen, these are the voids that beckon.  Because these are the easiest options.  These are possibilities.  And it’s your job to fight the void.

But do you ever want to give in?  Do you ever want to tell someone?  Do you ever wonder if you need help?  If giving up the drugs was the wrong decision?

I’m just wondering; do you ever?