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When John the Baptizer raised the head of Jesus out of the water, his main work was over. Jesus took it from there. The big event in the desert became a side note in the gospels from then on. The American church would do well to grapple with that shift. When we squint back into […]

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The prayer was simply for a “divine appointment.” As Toni, the Rapid Response Team chaplain walked around the memorial site in Aurora, Colo.,—where many gathered to mourn and pay respects to the victims who were killed in the horrific Jul…

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“I never want to see you again!” she screams. 
From down the hall I hear a thud, 
and the screaming continues. 
“Is it like this every night?” my friend asks. 
“Yes, every night. I don’t understand what makes someone 
stay…” I pause. “…what makes someone put up with it all.” 
In my mind I dream of getting up, 
of walking down the hall, 
opening the door, and ending this. 
I dream of making this poor excuse of a man, of a husband, of a father, 
pick on someone his own size instead of victimizing the innocent around him. 
I dream of rescuing this woman, these children, 
from the desperation in which they constantly live. 
Instead, I shake it off and turn the volume up on the television. 
Sometimes I wonder who the poor excuse really is.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published August 2012.