The Wrong Gift

This was written at a spiritual retreat for international workers that were learning ways of accessing the resources God has for each of us. Sometimes that process can be confusing and even disappointing. I wrote this for disappointed people.

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You barked your shins first thing
when you walked in the storehouse.

And you used to believe that verse
about every good and perfect gift
and you still believe it mostly
but only because God said it
and you have to.

But here you are now. Your sister
is beautiful with her gift, and fierce-
she’s a healing warrior princess riding a white
unicorn that speaks lovely affirmations
to her by telepathy. 
 
Your brother looks handsome and strong,
dangerous, capable. His sword looks like he
was born with it in his hand. He hacks at
goblins with one hand, and holds an infant
in the crook of his other muscled arm, 
or maybe a kitten. 

You have noodle arms, you’re kneeling
in mud, breathing hard, hands blistered
to bleeding. Your gift is heavy, awkward.
It has an instruction manual but it is written
in a language everyone understands but you.

You’re a teetotaler and you got
a bottle of single malt scotch. You’re
a pacifist and you got an AK-47. You’re
lactose intolerant. What are you going to do
with a twenty pound wheel of parmesan?

And you want to join your ancient brother
Peter on the rooftop and point out to God
that this gift is not kosher.

It’s too insubstantial. You can’t get a grip
It’s too heavy, too big for you. You feel
like you’re writing with the wrong hand,
like you’re doing new math, you’re going
to shoot your eye out. It’s like cooking in
someone else’s kitchen.

And maybe your beautiful sister with her unicorn
and your strong brother and his kitten
aren’t actually waiting for you in the dining room, 
hungry and irritated, but it’s hard not to imagine them there,
wondering what’s taking you so long.

That old dream is back. You’re on stage in your underwear
and you can’t remember the words.

This can’t be the right gift.

So Jesus sits in the muck with you and your noodle arms
like you’re his favorite and it doesn’t even matter
that you can’t pick up the stupid gift without
wanting to cry, without the terror that you have to
walk into a battle this weak and awkward. This vulnerable.

So for everyone who got the wrong gift,
I bless you in Jesus name, with new fluency
in your language, with new grace.

I bless you with callouses where you need protection,
in Jesus name I bless you with softness where you need to feel.

I bless you with the smile of your Father, in Jesus name,
who knows his gifts are puzzling and backhanded, 
powerful and mysterious.

I bless you in Jesus name with a 
vision of the warrior you are becoming,
and the bright and beautiful creation God has hidden in you
for when the war is over and we enter into our long peace.

~~~~