28. “What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ 29. “‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. 30. “Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go. 31. “Which of the two did what his father wanted?”“The first,” they answered.Jesus said to them, “I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. 32. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.

13. You came out to deliver your people, to save your anointed one. You crushed the leader of the land of wickedness, you stripped him from head to foot. Selah 14. With his own spear you pierced his head when his warriors stormed out to scatter us, gloating as though about to devour the wretched who were in hiding. 15. You trampled the sea with your horses, churning the great waters. 16. I heard and my heart pounded, my lips quivered at the sound; decay crept into my bones, and my legs trembled. Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity to come on the nation invading us. 17. Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, 18. yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. 19. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.

1. When the Lord brought back the captives to Zion, we were like men who dreamed. 2. Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” 3. The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. 4. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like streams in the Negev. 5. Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. 6. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him.

I Will Not Move…

A primitive Voice, feral and wild.

It calls from The Wilderness of our minds.

Change your heart and return to God, it pleads with us:

No sacrifice, no offerings, no confessions of sins are required,

Just come down and join me by the waters of Truth.

Wash away your greed.

Wash away your pride.

Wash away your cynicism.

Reveal God’s Will for you once more, beneath the grime of the world.

Help me prepare the way of the Lord.

The least among us repsond with hope.

The least among us answer God’s call.

Come down to The River, The Voice calls.

I will, I say, but I do not move.

I cannot follow, for I will not muster any hope for this.

Truth is, I like my grime.

Truth is, I like my independence from others.

Truth is, I like not seeing God’s Will anymore.

And deep down inside I deride the ones who turn back to The River:

Look at them, those desperate sheep, clinging to their hope.

Look at them, those slaves, waiting fruitlessly for a better tomorrow.

They are weak and low, I am high and strong.

I do not wait for better things, I take them.

I am the way of the world.

I am the way of survival.

I do not need this false promise of hope.

Turn back, The Voice repeats always inside my heart.

I will, I always promise, but I will not move.

Yet the all the things I take wither and die.

My food turns to dust. My drink spoils.

My plans fail. My fields do not fruit.

Winter is coming.

My pride is turning to poison in my blood.

The sun is ever lower in the sky, the wind grows chill.

The shadows seem to be everywhere, nipping after me.

Winter is here.

But The Voice is constant.

Ever calling, ever pleading.

Come down to The River.

I will, I say, and I begin to move.

And from out of the bleak winter night, I hear a new noise.

A noise that melts the last bit of cold cynicism from my heart.

A tiny noise, almost lost beneath the howling winds and snow.

This noise is improbable, impossible, illogical.

How can hope sound so sweet and yet so small?

For out of the bleak winter of my heart has come the sound of a mewling babe.

Soft and mild, fragile and new.

Such is the birth of Hope in all hearts.

I see the first glows of the morning sun on the sky.

My tired feet come to the shore of The River.

My weary hands reach out for The Voice.

I can hardly see in this twilight.

A warm embrace, and suddenly Hope cries out more loudly.

The waters of the Spirit swirl around me as The Voice lowers me down.

I am loved, I am home.

I am forgiven.