By Ryan Flanigan & Wes Crawford

Jesus, you illuminate 
The beauty in creation. 
Chaos finds its form in you,
The earth its animation.

Let me see your beauty,
Let me see your beauty,
Let me see your beauty,
Christ Illuminator.

Jesus, you illuminate
The truth in Holy Scripture.
May confusion fade away
In light of Christ’s own Picture.

Let me see your true word, 
Let me see your true word, 
Let me see your true word, 
Christ Illuminator.

Jesus, you illuminate
The goodness all around us.
Evil cannot dwell with you.
Oh, may your presence ground us.

Let us see your goodness, 
Let us see your goodness, 
Let us see your goodness, 
Christ Illuminator.

August 1, 2026

A few weeks ago I participated in a songwriting retreat, where my friend Wes and I wrote this simple verse-chorus song. The idea came to me as I was reflecting on the ways in which many American Christians presently misinterpret the Bible, especially the Old Testament. If we want to understand the Scriptures, we must read them through the lens of Jesus Christ. If we leave Jesus out of our hermeneutics, we can make the Bible say whatever we want it to say, and we can justify many evils.

Jesus illuminates the truth in Holy Scripture. Any time I think of truth, I also think of beauty and goodness. You can’t have one without the others. If Jesus illuminates biblical truth, where in the world does he illuminate beauty and goodness? Naturally, I thought of creation and life all around us. Jesus gives form to chaos and drives out all evil.

This song is a simple declaration of the light of Christ and a petition for Jesus to show us the difference between beauty and chaos, between truth and confusion, and between goodness and evil. Only the Spirit of Christ can reveal these things to us. May we have eyes to see.

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By Ryan Flanigan

A broken world divides 
          the human life in many pieces,
And Self becomes the source 
          around which everything revolves.
This habit even shapes the way 
          the followers of Jesus
Believe, or think, they must relate 
          to God, which soon devolves
Into an empty practice—merely 
          going through the motions—
Or, worse, into abandoning 
          the Faith of ages past:
Of father, mother, teacher, guide 
          whose wholehearted devotions 
Still call for all to die to self 
          and join the song at last.

    Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, 
    Praise the Lord, O my soul!
    Praise the Lord, O my soul,
    Praise the Lord!

A song of infants crying out 
          when parents are too tired;
Of parents’ joy when single friends 
          relieve them for a breath;
Of elders learning what the youth 
          believe to be inspired;
Of priests who take the elder’s hand 
          as they approach their death.
A solo voice cannot produce 
          this kingdom-harmonizing;
It must combine, or rather, find 
          its part among the throng.
And blest the ear that hears 
          the sound of heaven real-izing
On earth, as every tongue 
          and age and people sing along.

    Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, 
    Praise the Lord, O my soul!
    Praise the Lord, O my soul,
    Praise the Lord!

And blest the ear that hears 
          the sound of heaven real-izing
On earth, as every tongue 
          and age and people sing along.

April 1, 2024

I don’t know about you, but I need regular reminders that we don’t have to go through the joys and pains of life alone. Maybe it’s an introvert thing. Or maybe my heart is too easily pulled into the rampant individualism of our time. The evil one would have us remain divided and alone. That is the only way evil can defeat us.

I am thankful for the daily practice of Confession that leads me to repent of my self-sufficiency, and for the weekly practice of Communion that reminds me I am a member of the household of God. At the end of the liturgy for Holy Baptism the people say to the newly baptized:

We receive you into the household of God. Confess the faith of Christ crucified, proclaim his resurrection, and share with us in his eternal priesthood.

The people don’t say, “You received Jesus into your heart. Maintain your personal relationship with Christ, do your private devotions, and you will go to heaven with you die. Good luck!” This kind of spirituality has created so much of the division we are currently experiencing, not only within the church, but in society as a whole.

We are members of a family: first, the human family through the gift of the Imago Dei, then, the family of God through Holy Baptism. We die to self and become members of the body of Christ. Apart from the Body, we whither and die. The body has many parts which work together to bring hope and healing to the world. Our individuality, our unique calling, flows out of our communality, the Missio Dei to re-create the world.

Our divisions will be healed as human beings surrender to the love of God manifest through the holy Church. Praise the Lord, O my soul, praise the Lord!

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By Nelson Koscheski

On Tabor there was shown a light 
In Jesus’ holy Self. 
In clothes and face, in glory bright  
Each saw true light itself.

So Peter, James, and John have told  
And witnessed in their word: 
That glory shown and Christ, like gold,  
Was value self-secured. 

And all may see, if see they will,  
That glory still aglow 
In Jesus’ face upon the hill 
Or where we live below. 

Though risen and ascended higher,  
His window's still below, 
And Tabor is the heart afire, 
The eye with truth aglow.

Today is the feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ. On this special day I thought it fitting to share the story of how I began writing poetry. I tell it in full in the Introduction to my (unpublished) book of poems called The Arms of God. Become a paid subscriber, and I will send you the e-book. Thank you for you interest in my writing and for supporting struggling artists. Here’s the excerpt:

Father Nelson Koscheski was a retired Episcopal priest. For him this meant a vocational shift from public work to private prayer. I met Nelson in 2015 when I became the music director at the parish in Dallas, TX where he and his wife Judy worshiped. One month into my job, as we were coming up on the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, Nelson shared with me a poem he had written for the Transfiguration. I set his words to music and led the congregation to sing it that Sunday. Thus began our collaboration. For four years Nelson turned his prayers into poems. Only, he refused to call them poems. “I’m a mere versifier,” he’d say. “I’m no poet.” Nonetheless, he wrote the words and I composed the melodies. Three Liturgical Folk albums consist of our hymns— Edenland, Lent, and Advent. In the end Nelson and I co-wrote nearly fifty hymns before he died in 2019. Nelson was “tickled pink” to be given this new vocation at the end of his life.

In the fall of 2017 Nelson handed me a gift. It was an icon of Romanos the Melodist, a 6th Century Syrian deacon and reader in the Hagia Sophia. Nelson wrote the icon himself. “You’re a melodist,” he said as he gave it to me. This came as a relief. For in twenty years of writing songs, melodies always came easier to me than words. I had found my niche, and Nelson affirmed it. I would never have to write another lyric again. When I began reading Saint Romanos, however, I discovered that he was as much as lyricist as a melodist, an author as a composer. There was a holism between reading and singing for Romanos. There is music in poetry.

It never occurred to me to seriously try my hand at writing verse like this until 2022. I was on a year-long study sabbatical in Oxford, UK and reading Jürgen Moltmann. His teaching in The Crucified God about how human beings relate to God in Christ, struck me in a new and profound way. We don’t relate to Jesus in his ascension, but in his condescension. We may try to reach up in our worship to touch the glorified Savior, but in doing so we ignore incarnate suffering. It is precisely in Christ’s suffering that he meets us in ours. In response to this truth, these words flowed out of me:

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All glory to the crucified and resurrected Lord,
Whose favor does not fall on those who climb the highest peak; 
It condescends to such a small and unexpected Word 
That few can hear its silent tone or what it wants to speak.

All glory to the crucified and resurrected Lord,
Whose friendship is not won by force or twisting of the arm. 
A sacrifice of love alone can turn the most abhorred
Into a footstool for the throne, beheld in all its charm.

All glory to the crucified and resurrected Lord, 
Whose final revelation we await with longing heart: 
Apocalypse of pure compassion, set to see restored 
The human glory God intended from the very start.

Nelson could have written this, I thought. He had, in fact, written a beautiful reflection on Jesus in Psalm 2 using the same meter. It became our hymn “The Lordly Ones,” which appears on Liturgical Folk’s album Edenland. While in Oxford I learned that iambic heptameter (seven iambs) was commonly used among 16th and 17th Century English poets. Maybe I was channeling Nelson, or maybe the enchanting city of Oxford.

Pusey House is where I did most of my reading and praying whilst in Oxford. Edward Bouverie Pusey was an important figure in the Oxford Movement of the 19th Century, which sought to restore Catholicity to the Church of England. Another prominent clergyman with Pusey was John Keble. While this book was taking shape, I stumbled across a book of poems by Keble called The Christian Year. It was hugely popular in its time and reestablished a liturgical imagination for a generation. I find myself with a similar mission today, seeking to restore historic Christian practices to modern worshipers.

Oxford was a halftime break for me. I was in my early forties and had been doing church work for more than twenty years. With energy for about twenty more years of ministry (and hopefully forty more years of life) it was a gift to rest, recalibrate, and prepare for the second half of life in ministry. My spiritual director at Pusey House prayerfully guided me to a greater clarity of calling. When it was time to return to the US I would seek opportunities to bring beautiful music into the world and lead people to prayer. Little did I know that poetry would be part of this vocation. Indeed, there is music in poetry

Central Texas is where I hit the ground running into the second half of life. Not wanting to immediately jump back into full-time church employment, I took a part-time position at a parish in Austin and began to piecemeal a living as a self-employed musician. An opportunity soon arose at Baylor University, just a hundred miles up the road, which has been expanding its mission in the space of Theology and the Arts. For two years, 2023-2025, I was Baylor University’s Theological Artist-in-Residence. I began my two-day-a-week residency living in a cottage on the Brazos River in Waco. I quickly came to love that river, especially at sunrise and sunset. The beauty and serenity of Morning Prayer on the dock with a delicious cup of coffee provided all the inspiration I needed for what followed.

One August morning in 2023, as I was reading and reflecting on the New Testament lesson for the day (Acts 20:7-12), I jotted down this fun little verse about Eutychus:

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There was a boy named Eutychus, 
Or “Lucky” to a friend.
His love for birds and not for words 
Would kill him in the end.

See, Lucky tried to fly one night, 
While Paul preached him to rest: 
On window perch a dreamy lurch 
Sent Lucky from his nest.

Three floors he soared, or rather fell, 
For wings he did not own.
A gentle thud, he hit the mud
That night in Troas town.

So, how did Lucky get his name,
You might be wondering then?
Well, on that night Paul showed God’s might 
And raised Bird-Boy again.

The moral of the story is:
Don’t think yourself a bird,
And stay awake, for goodness’ sake, 
When Preacher brings the Word.

This opened the floodgates of creative inspiration. It became a regular discipline for me to compose a poetic reflection on something that stood out to me from the Daily Office (usually a bit more serious than “Bird-Boy”). The form for Morning Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) is saturated with Scripture, from the seasonal opening sentence to the closing sentence of benediction, with Confession, Psalms, Lessons, Canticles, and many Prayers between. Sometimes a single line of prayer or verse of Scripture would jump out at me, relating to something happening in my life or the world around me. As a creative exercise I would jot down the line, which often already had a rhythm or meter, and would begin crafting a poem.

Sometimes the poem would take the shape of a sonnet—fourteen lines of iambic pentameter. Other times the poem demanded a more strophic form like the verses of a hymn. As a songwriter I’ve learned to let a song be what it wants to be. The same applies to poetry. I always, however, stuck to a consistent meter and rhyme scheme. This forced me at times to dig deeper than I normally would, perhaps steering the poem in an unforeseen direction or bringing to the surface something that might have otherwise remained buried within me. It felt like a submission to the winds of the Holy Spirit prohibiting me from going one direction and leading me into unexplored places.

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By Ryan Flanigan

Can anyone declare with certainty
Which sister truly chose the better part?
True, Jesus Christ himself said it was she
Who at his blessed feet poured out her heart.
And yet the other sister made the food
That nourished Jesus’ blood from head to feet.
Now tell me, which one truly understood
How humans and divinity should meet?
The infant and its mother are the same,
From one come two with shared dependency.
Partake and bless, give and receive one name,
That you, poor Bethany, your need may see.
    So, contemplate and serve with fervent gust,
    But place in Jesus’ active love your trust.

July 29, 2026

Today is the commemoration of Mary and Martha of Bethany. We all know the story of Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus while her sister Martha does all the work. We pick our side—“You’re a Martha; I’m a Mary.” The more nuanced recognize a little Mary and a little Martha within everybody.

As I have been reflecting on these beautiful women of Scripture today, I noticed something new. The town of Bethany means “house of the poor.” No matter where each person falls on the spectrum of Martha-like action and Mary-like contemplation, we are all poor and in need of the God’s loving action.

Bob Webber always said, “God acts first in worship.” Indeed, if we read Scripture in light our poor condition and God’s saving actions, we suddenly see the entire point. Interpreting the Scriptures from our position of helplessness and God’s strength reveals how silly our Mary-Martha comparisons are.

And once we see ourselves and Jesus rightly, trusting in God’s willingness and ability alone to lift us up, then we may discern how to worship. Liturgy, the “work of the people,” involves both action and contemplation, Martha’s service and Mary’s adoration. Jesus makes it meaningful.

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By Ryan Flanigan

Have compassion on our weakness,
Humble Jesus, Lord of might;
Shift our hearts from shame to meekness,
You who dwell with the contrite.

Don’t give in to power’s promise
To protect you, O my soul;
Even when you’re facing death’s kiss
Hold to Jesus’ example.

Real strength is shown whenever
Fear is overcome with love.
Plead to God your thorn will never
Make you lord it from above.

Weakness is the key to winning
Culture’s conscience when it fails.
Losing brings a new beginning,
Without which no good prevails.

Who can push away such wonder
Or resist the better way?
Who prefers to suffer under
Nature’s law of life-decay?

Death of death is weakness’ mystery;
Glory in the sacrificed.
This the secret of all history:
Death to self and life with Christ.

July 26, 2024

This week’s Collect is one of my favorite prayers in the Book of Common Prayer:

Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, you know our necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking: Have compassion on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask; through the worthiness of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Last week’s poem ended with the biblical image of Christian conquest: a lamb led to the slaughter. God sees us in this way, and when we acknowledge our low estate, turning to God in prayer and trusting in our Deliverer, we overcome the enemy. Contrarily, when we take matters into our own hands, we depart from the way of Christ, taking up our sword instead of our cross. This is a reason for all the hatred and violence among Christians.

I love this painting of the Apostle Paul. I think Rembrandt saw himself in Paul. Look at how he signed the painting. He made it look like he etched his name in the desk, as if it was his own desk, like a rebellious student. Paul is distraught. He is wrestling with his vocation. Was Rembrandt wrestling with his? God called Paul to spread the message of the cross to the Gentiles, and to do it Jesus’ way, through self-sacrificing love and gentle persuasion.

Notice the sword in the painting. In his mission, Paul refused to use that sword the way the world uses swords. Instead, he appropriated it as a symbol of the Spirit’s power (Ephesians 6). Christians throughout history have been faced with a choice: to wield the sword to persuade through violence, completely missing Paul’s and Christ’s message, or to take up their cross and persuade through self-sacrificing love. Paul trusted the Spirit to cut hearts, just as his own heart was conquered by God.

Paul was acquainted with his weakness and unworthiness. He saw himself as the least of all, the worst of sinners (Ephesians 3; 1 Timothy 1). This anthropology could produce self-loathing or -defeatism, as it often does in me. I don’t think that is the point, though, and this week’s prayer helps us rightly understand how weakness works for Christians. I hope my poems helps, too. Weakness is necessary for our dependency on God, and God has compassion on those in need.

I leave you with Paul’s words from 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10:

Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ, for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

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By Ryan Flanigan

Send out your light and truth, that they may lead me,
And bring me to a state of prayer and rest;
The altar of my God to hush and feed me
Abundant peace and joy, to you expressed
Through fingers plucking songs of thanks and praise,
New melodies for hearts and lips to sing,
To drive away the heaviness and raise
The soul from depths of fear and foreboding.
Remind me once again the earth is yours,
And all that seems impossible is small
To those who in your Love are conquerors—
No ruler is too great, no man too tall.
    Creator Spirit, give me grace to see
    The world with eyes the same as you see me.

July 11, 2024

The soft sound of rain awoke me early. Before I opened my eyes my mind was already racing. My current anxieties have to do with scarcity: a lack of faith in God’s financial provision and vocational guidance. I could not fall back to sleep. This occasionally happens, and on good days I take it as a nudge from God to pray. I got up, made myself a delicious cup of coffee, lit a candle, and began the Morning Office.

Send out your light and your truth, that they may lead me, and bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling. (Psalm 43:3)

The Opening Sentence stops there, but I was curious: what were the songwriters, the Sons of Korah, going through that led to this petition?

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Give judgment for me, O God,
and defend my cause against an ungodly people; *
    deliver me from the deceitful and the wicked.

For you are the God of my strength;
why have you put me from you? *
    and why do I go so heavily while the enemy 
                               oppresses me? (Psalm 43:1-2)

They felt far from God. Ungodly, deceitful, wicked people were oppressing them. Their condition might have been a little “heavier” than mine, but our responses are the same: we ask God to send light and truth to lead us and bring us to a place of prayer. Why?

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That I may go to the altar of my God
to the God of my joy and gladness;
    and on the harp I will give thanks to you, O God my God.

Why are you so full of heaviness, O my soul?
    and why are you so disquieted within me?

Put your trust in God;
    for I will yet give thanks to him,
    who is the help of my countenance, and my God. (Psalm 43:4-6)

In prayer our hearts are set aright, the heaviness is lifted, our thoughts align with God’s. In prayer we receive joy and strength to do what God wants us to do. If we are not in the practice of prayer, we will inevitably put our trust in other gods, other hopes, ideologies, political parties, all powerless compared to our Creator God to whom the earth belongs.

And prayer is a communal endeavor, as evidenced by the very next thing that is said in Morning Prayer:

Let us confess our sins against God an our neighbor. (my emphasis)

We are not left to our individual self in prayer. Prayer is already happening in the eternal intercession of Christ. We simply enter by the Spirit in the incarnate Son’s communion with the Father.1

In prayer we are able to conquer the things that need to be conquered in our lives. What does conquering look like for the one who prays? It looks like a lamb prepared for slaughter. Only in prayer can we make sense of this image. Jesus conquers death by laying down his life, even for his enemies.

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By Ryan Flanigan

First of all, how could it come to be
A Moabite should hear the Hebrew Lord?
Wasn’t Canaan Israel’s enemy,
And wasn’t Balaam doomed to Caleb’s sword?

Secondly, why did it came to pass
The Angel of the Lord then sought to kill
Balaam on his trusty little ass,
Just setting off to do what God would will?

Third, and most incredible to me,
When Balaam’s donkey opened up its muzzle,
Not a honky heehaw heeded he,
But wisdom spoken plain and without puzzle:

“Am I not the strong and clever steed
You’ve ridden all your life and to this day?
Is my habit ever to mislead?
Explain, then, why you’re treating me this way.”

“No” is all that Balaam could retort.
And can you blame him, after such a scolding?
Then he saw the Angel sent to thwart
His crafty plan we soon would see unfolding.

July 2, 2024

The story of Balaam in Numbers 22 raises questions. That is all.

Thank you for reading my poems. I’ll be back in two weeks.

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By Ryan Flanigan

What can justify a person?
Nothing but belief in Jesus.
What if we persist in our sin?
Seven thousand times he frees us.

None to sin beyond redeeming,
None too far from Jesus driven.
O his precious mercy streaming
Freely to the unforgiven.

Jesus kept the law completely,
While our sin kept us ungrounded.
Thus we praise him indiscreetly,
Thus his grace has so abounded:

Not a consequence of fairness,
Not that we could fully grab it;
Truth comes into our awareness
When confession is our habit.
 
O his endless grace redeeming
Humble souls to Jesus driven.
All receive his mercy streaming,
All whom Jesus has forgiven.

June 25, 2024

As I was reading Romans 3, that gospel hymn “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus” popped into my mind. I don’t sing those kinds of songs very often anymore. Not that I entirely object to their theology, but there is so much more to sing about than the forgiveness of personal sins through the blood of Jesus. I used to think a hymn wasn’t worth singing that didn’t verbally articulate the gospel. By “gospel” I meant what Scot McKnight calls the “soterian gospel,” which reduces the good news to personal salvation. I was, according to Dallas Willard, a vampire Christian, who only needed Jesus for his blood. Jesus was my ticket to heaven. The purpose of worship, church, and mission was to apply the blood of Jesus to myself over and over again and to lead other individuals to do the same.

My understanding of the atonement and the forgiveness of sins is more expansive these days. Father Nelson Koscheski wrote in one of our Advent hymns:

Your presence, Lord, is cleansing grace;
Forgiveness, yes, but more than that.
Our death with life you would replace,
That we might sing Magnificat.

This is a hard saying for Christians who have limited grace and forgiveness to personal salvation. Fr. Nelson is saying that grace, the unmerited favor of God, is applied to the entirety of the Resurrection, that salvation is more than individual. All creation benefits from the perfecting grace of Jesus Christ. Fr. Nelson suggests that our response should be like Mary’s. How does Jesus’ Mother understand the grace of God her Savior, which the whole world will soon receive through the Incarnation? The title of Pope Leo XIV’s first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas, alludes to Mary’s song. In the very last section of his masterpiece, Leo writes:

Her soul magnifies the Lord, and her spirit rejoices in God her Savior, for he chose a young, poor and humble girl for his plan of salvation. Mary suddenly sees all of history through the lens of this revelation. Nothing has changed around her; the socio-political situation of her time remains the same. The Romans continue to control her land, and her people are still subjugated and humiliated. Yet, everything has changed within her, and this allows her to see what is invisible. God has already shown the strength of his arm; he has already scattered the proud, cast down the mighty, lifted up the lowly, filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty-handed. He has already helped Israel, his servant. God “takes the part of the lowly. His plan is one that is often hidden beneath the opaque context of human events that see ‘the proud, the mighty and the rich’ triumph. Yet his secret strength is destined in the end to be revealed.”

The Blessed Virgin Mary not only teaches us to recognize God’s invisible work, but also directs our gaze to “the points at which humanity is broken and the world becomes distorted: the contrast between the humble and the powerful, the poor and the rich, the satiated and the hungry,” teaching us “to look at the world from a lower position: through the eyes of those who suffer rather than the mighty; to view history through the eyes of the little ones, rather than through the perspective of the powerful; to interpret the events of history from the viewpoint of the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the wounded child, the exile and the fugitive.” The Blessed Virgin thus becomes “poet and prophetess of Redemption,” because on her lips is proclaimed “the strongest and most innovative hymn ever articulated, the Magnificat; it is she who reveals the transformative vision of the Christian economy, the historical and social result that still draws its origin and strength from Christianity.” (my emphasis; his emphasis)

Whoa, the “strongest and most innovative hymn ever articulated”? What makes Mary’s song so is that it teaches us “to look at the world from a lower position,” to look at “the points at which humanity is broken and the world becomes distorted” through the lens of salvation history. To Mary and to followers of Jesus God has already overcome the injustices of the world. This eschatological reality inspires hope. The poor and the oppressed have a joy and confidence that the rich and powerful cannot possibly possess. This hope drives those who sing the Magnificat to call out injustice, to recognize dehumanizing systems, to name when truth is distorted and beauty is perverted, because these things do not belong in the kingdom of peace inaugurated in the son of Mary. Not now, not ever.

Salvation is more than the abstract forgiveness of personal sins; it is God’s plan to rescue the entire world through Christ. God is making all things new. This adjusts my focus from fixating on personal sins to acknowledging systemic injustice. I am the most introspective, self-defeating person I know. Being aware of my own shortcomings has never been a problem for me. Being aware of injustice does not come as naturally to me. Even less so actually doing something about it.

It helps to know that God views the world from the lower position. And when we learn to do the same, when we stop fixating on personal salvation from individual sins, then we can find our place in God’s plan to drive out injustice and make all things new. Now when I read Romans and think about the blood of Jesus and the forgiveness of sins, this is what comes to mind.

P.S. We will be singing the Advent hymn quoted above as well as our version of the Magnificat on our Liturgical Folk Midwest Summer Tour next week. Come see us or tell your friends to come see us in Indianapolis, Mid-Michigan, and Chicagoland on June 30-July 2.

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By Ryan Flanigan

The power of the Lord is limitless,
Whose word is heaven’s bird for each partaker.
But we exchange the truth for craftiness,
And crave the meat more than we do its Maker.
The river gushing from a desert rock
Is not enough to succor our distress,
Nor is the manna, nor the pheasant flock—
The frailty of the flesh is limitless.
So, Moses, father of this faithless rabble,
Persuades the Lord of All to bear in mind:
Though we are dust, though endlessly we babble,
We are the Lord’s beloved humankind.
    The limitless expanse of love divine
    Can hold our limitless impulse to whine.

June 16, 2026

I love the Bible. It’s so strange and illuminating and convicting. It leads me to repentance. It inspires hope. It is a good shepherd in a world of bad shepherds. Writing poetry helps me more thoroughly digest the Scriptures in my gut, my kardia, what the Bible calls the heart, the center of human life. Take, for example, the stories and texts from the Daily Office this week, specifically Tuesday’s lessons:

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They tested God in their hearts, *
    demanding food for their craving.
They railed against God and said, *
    “Can God set a table in the wilderness?
True, he struck the rock, the waters gushed out, and the
           gullies overflowed; *
    but is he able to give bread
    or to provide meat for his people?” 

(Psalm 78:18-20)

The Psalmist is recounting this story from the Pentateuch:

The rabble among them had a strong craving; and the Israelites also wept again and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic, but now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at.”

Moses heard the people weeping throughout their families, all at the entrances of their tents. Then the Lord became very angry, and Moses was displeased. So Moses said to the Lord, “Why have you treated your servant so badly? Why have I not found favor in your sight, that you lay the burden of all this people on me? … Where am I to get meat to give to all this people? For they come weeping to me, saying, ‘Give us meat to eat!’ I am not able to carry all this people alone, for they are too heavy for me.”

The Lord said to Moses, “Is the Lord’s power limited? Now you shall see whether my word will come true for you or not.”

(Numbers 11:4-6, 10-11, 13-14, 23)

And here is the corresponding New Testament passage:

Ever since the creation of the world God’s eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been seen and understood through the things God has made. So they are without excuse, for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless hearts were darkened.

Therefore God gave them over in the desires of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves. They exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.

(Romans 1:20-21, 24-25)

Now, re-read my poem to see how the Bible read me this week. I could have plowed through the readings and checked daily devotions off my to-do list. That would have been more efficient by our culture’s productivity metrics, giving me more time to get things done. But I chose to take the time to exercise my human vocation to create, allowing the Scriptures to come alive in me. Granted, I needed to wake up an hour earlier than my body wanted me to. Nothing a delicious cup of coffee couldn’t remedy. I like to think that, by God’s metrics, this is a more fruitful way to live.

This is also the safest way for me to complain about things—in the context of prayer and creative writing. God alone can handle my whining. My wife and kids shouldn’t have to hear it. Facebook doesn’t need to hear it. I actually think God delights in hearing it. Why else would one-third of the Psalms be lament?

Whining to God is cathartic; it alleviates my temptation to complain to others. And, boy oh boy, do I have a lot to complain about. Without going into too much detail, I just got a notice from the IRS stating that I owe the government a lot more money than I expected. I have vented to some of my friends, and they are graciously empathetic, but my true complaint is directed at God. My prayer on Tuesday morning, after reading the above texts and starting to write the poem, was:

God, do you not see the injustice of this? I know I have it pretty good, but do you not see how, in this case, the system is set up against me? I have been faithful to you, so why are you letting this happen? The rich don’t have to pay a cent, and the government comes after me, a self-employed musician, working four jobs to provide for my family? I can’t even afford an accountant who would have caught my mistake in the first place. F**k!

If you owed as much as I owe, you’d drop an F-bomb, too. God can handle our F-bombs. God wants to hear our unfiltered feelings. And you know what happened? Throughout the day, hope and faith in God began driving out my despair and desire to control the situation. The situation itself has not changed, by my heart’s posture towards it shifted. I remembered the many times God provided when facing financial uncertainty. I recalled God’s faithfulness, and I’m not sure I would have done had I not whined to God. And when I slink back into hopelessness, I’ll complain and curse to God again, and God will pick me up again. Of this I am certain. For the power of God’s love towards me is limitless. The Bible tells me so.

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By Ryan Flanigan & Sabin Flore

Bad shepherd makes me lie down and freeze; 
Bad shepherd leads me beside raging seas.
Bad shepherd entices me with its bait;
I need a good shepherd 
          to save me before it’s too late.

Bad shepherd stays with the ninety-nine;
Bad shepherd tells me that I’ll be just fine.
Bad shepherd exposes me to attack;
I need a good shepherd 
          to find me and carry me back.

    Good, good shepherd of humanity,
    My heart is yours, my time is yours.
    Good, good shepherd of humanity,
    Don’t let me go.

Bad shepherd promises life and gain;
Bad shepherd says to ignore all my pain.
Bad shepherd abandons me to this hole;
I need a good shepherd 
          to comfort and care for my soul.

    Good, good shepherd of humanity,
    My heart is yours, my time is yours.
    Good, good shepherd of humanity,
    Don’t let me go.

Good shepherd, pick me up when I fall;
Good shepherd, help me live into my call.
Good shepherd, awaken my soul to see;
That the bad shepherd 
          is sucking the life out of me.

    Good, good shepherd of humanity,
    My heart is yours, my time is yours.
    Good, good shepherd of humanity,
    Don’t let me go.

June 6, 2026

This past weekend sixteen songwriters got together in Austin, TX to write songs on the subject of humanizing the dehumanized, welcoming the stranger, grieving pain and mistreatment, provoking power, and loving one another. (Check out Front Porch Music ATX on Instagram.)

At the retreat my new friend Sabin Flore and I wrote “Bad Shepherd” as a reflection on how AI can be a threat to our humanity. Our prompt came from Pope Leo XIV’s first encyclical, MAGNIFICA HUMANITAS, Magnificent Humanity:

In the era of artificial intelligence, when human dignity is threatened by new forms of dehumanization, ours is the pressing duty to remain profoundly human.

As we crafted the lyrics—exercising our creative duty as human beings!—we realized the song could apply to all kinds of bad shepherds, not just AI. For example, when I give my time and emotions to the News, allowing things I cannot control to control me, I am following a shepherd that leads with fear and sensationalism. I am pulled away from what is physically present, from the people and responsibilities immediately before me, and I occupy myself with great matters, with things that are too hard for me.

Bad shepherds do not care about their sheep. They only care about people insofar as they can exploit us. Bad shepherds are always in it for themselves. They do not make us lie down in green pastures, but in cold and desolate places; they do not lead us beside still waters, but to raging seas.

There is a good shepherd who does care; who leaves the ninety-nine and rescues the one who has gone astray; who restores our soul and helps us live into our human vocation to make beautiful things. May the good shepherd of humanity rescue us, capture our hearts, and make us truly human.

And in case you’re wondering, no, we did not use AI in any way to help us write the song.

(Audio engineered by Liam Flanigan)

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By Ryan Flanigan

The word of God is beautiful;
It terrifies and blesses.
The willing and the dutiful
Abide to its addresses.

The word of God is not a tool
To bolster our position.
It calls us to become a fool
When tempted by ambition.

The word of God is double-edged
Incising hearts and bloodlines.
Our vows to kin or nation pledged
Divide within its confines.

The word of God is not a book
To justify our violence
The voice of love we overlook
If sight produces silence.

The word of God is gently stern
Correcting our offenses.
Oh, may its balm forever burn
The chafe of our pretenses.

August 4, 2025

I recently came across an open letter to James Talarico from an evangelical megachurch pastor named Jeff Mullen. It is well-written, nice, and thoroughly represents a conservative theological approach to the Bible and cultural issues. It is so well-organized, in fact, I had to make sure it wasn’t written by AI. It seems to have human authorship. As I read Pastor Mullen’s letter, several things stood out to me, emphasized in the quotes below, followed by my comments.

I do not write as a political opponent, but as a fellow citizen concerned about the growing confusion surrounding faith, truth, and Scripture.

What Pastor Mullen sees as “growing confusion,” others, present company included, experience as increasing clarity through voices like James Talarico. Ironically, Mullen’s own faith tradition is responsible for much of the confusion he senses, especially insofar as American evangelicalism has become synonymous with political conservatism. Talarico and others are calling out the hypocrisies and abuses of American conservative evangelicalism, with its tendencies towards nationalism, violence, quests for power, and imposing of values.

Because you frequently speak about Christianity, quote the Bible, and present your views as expressions of Christian conviction, I believe those claims deserve to be examined in light of God's Word. …many people understandably assume that your theological conclusions represent historic biblical Christianity. Your words, therefore, carry weight far beyond politics.

By “God’s Word” Pastor Mullen means the Bible, and more specifically his conservative interpretation of the Bible. Furthermore, Mullen implies that his own views represent “historic biblical Christianity,” but they do not. His views represent American conservative evangelicalism, whose marriage to MAGA, empty worship aesthetic, and white supremacist underpinnings betray its ahistoric, unbiblical, and anti-Christ nature. This is the ideology Talarico’s faith leads him to confront.

When theological claims are presented in the name of Christ, people naturally assume they are hearing biblical truth. My concern is that some of the positions you advocate may lead sincere people away from the clear teaching of Scripture and toward a version of Christianity that reflects the spirit of the age more than the Word of God. …when we drift from Scripture, confusion always follows. …I offer these thoughts—not as an attack, but as a pastoral appeal for biblical clarity and faithfulness.

The words “biblical truth” and “clear teaching of Scripture” do not invite honest engagement; they are conversation enders. Despite his niceties, we discover here Pastor Mullen’s true intent: for people who agree with him to double down on their conservative beliefs and write off Talarico and anyone else who challenges those beliefs. Mullen is not listening to Talarico, otherwise he would acknowledge that the American conservative evangelical moral agenda is in bed with empire. The Jesus of the Bible subverts empires. This is James Talarico’s message.

Pastor Mullen then proceeds with a pastoral refutation of eight things James Talarico has said, without context, and which have come into the national spotlight through conservative news propaganda and attack ads. They consist of all the hot button conservative culture war issues you would expect—gender, relativism, abortion, feminism, sexuality, marriage, and the new age—with the same tired biblical proof texts that completely ignore decades of critical scholarship. You can read them for yourself here, but I promise you’ve heard it all before.

Twenty years ago I would have agreed wholeheartedly with Mullen’s warnings. Today I almost completely disagree. The point of this post is not to argue with his positions, but to highlight the biblicism that undergirds them. My poem seeks to do this, too. After his eight points, Pastor Mullen concludes:

During my years in ministry, I learned that God does not call pastors to make Scripture popular. He calls us to make it plain. …When culture becomes the lens through which we interpret Scripture, truth is eventually replaced by preference. The question for every generation is not whether the Bible aligns with the culture, but whether we are willing to align ourselves with the Bible.

The older I get, the less interested I am in winning arguments and the more concerned I am about whether people know the truth. …My concern is not your political party. My concern is whether the Jesus being presented to the public is the Jesus revealed in Scripture or a version reshaped by the spirit of the age.

America does not need progressive Christianity or conservative Christianity. America needs biblical Christianity—faithful to God’s Word, centered on Christ, and unafraid to proclaim truth in love.

My prayer for you is the same prayer I pray for myself: that every belief, every ambition, and every public statement would be brought under the authority of Scripture.

Pastor Mullen is guilty of doing the very thing he accuses Talarico of doing: aligning the Bible with the culture, fitting the Bible into his ideological framework. But no one can argue with him, because he is claiming with absolute certainty to be on the side of biblical truth, authority, faithfulness, and Christ-centeredness. “The Bible is clear to me, but not to thee.” “The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.” This is biblicism, and this is how abusive religious power works—using the Bible as a weapon of subjugation. This is anything but biblical. This is nothing like Jesus. Mullen is merely reinforcing the image of a straight, white, American, culture warrior Jesus. And all the conservative evangelicals in America said, “Amen.”

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By Ryan Flanigan

The Lord Almighty grant a peaceful night and perfect end.
Amen, we say or, better, softly sing.
For who can tell the sun to set and evening to descend
But God, who hears the tired prayers we bring.

Our help is in the blessed name of Jesus Christ alone.
No other man could bear what we confess.
He speaks his pardon down into our core, through flesh and bone,
And gives the Holy Comforter to bless.

O God, make speed to save us now. Make haste to help us pray.
We glory in your holy, triune Name.
With Israel, King David, Jesus, and the Church we say
Or, better, sing a psalm to your acclaim.

A simple word of Scripture washes over us in song;
Sweet melody of peace to still the soul.
We sing a vesper hymn to turn our hearts where they belong:
The prayers that gather each into the whole.

Like Jesus we commend our breath into your hands, O Lord;
For we can trust you love whom you beget.
Have mercy through your Son, that we may sing with one accord
The prayer he teaches us, lest we forget.

Lord, hear our prayer; and let our cry ascend to where you are.
Be present, be our light; defend, protect.
Keep watch, and keep the watchers underneath the brightest Star,
Who wait for your new day to resurrect.

In silence we reflect upon our moments and events,
Our thanks and needs we faithfully release.
With Simeon, who finally can sleep when Christ presents,
We sing of freedom, resting in your peace.

March 7, 2025

The image above represents a perfect end to Rembrandt’s life. This was his final (unfinished) painting, which was found on his easel when he died in 1669. It is believed that his students finished the work, adding the female figure (either Mary or Anna). I say this painting is a perfect end to Rembrandt’s life, because its story depicts the perfect end to Simeon’s life.

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Lord, you now have set your servant free
    to go in peace as you have promised;
For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
    whom you have prepared for all the world to see:
A Light to enlighten the nations,
    and the glory of your people Israel. (Luke 2:29-32)

Compline, which means “completion,” is the fourth and final prayer service of the day in Anglican worship. Fittingly, our daily prayers culminate in the Song of Simeon, whose eyes have finally seen the Savior and who now may sleep in peace. We likewise reflect upon how we have seen Christ in our life before we go to bed.

One of the highlights of my time in Oxford, UK (2021-2022) was attending Compline at Pusey House on Tuesday nights at 9:30. The service was held entirely by candlelight and every word sung. After 4-5 weeks I had learned it, and after a few months I had it down by heart. The hardest part, before memorizing the service, was holding both a candle and a booklet in my hands. I will always treasure that season of life.

This poem is a mere versification of some of the prayers of Compline, as well as a simple explanation of what we are doing in the service: confession, psalm-singing, scripture-reading, the Lord’s Prayer, hymn-singing, silence, and prayers. Of course I had to make the poem seven verses long to symbolize completion.

I commend the service of Compline to you, and I pray that my poem inspires you to give it a try. Even better if you do it in community. And best if you can sing it! I leave you with my verbatim setting of the Song of Simeon, which is traditionally called the Nunc dimittis, meaning “Now you dismiss.”

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By Ryan Flanigan

Away from me, you wicked! I will keep
The law my God has placed within my hands:
To catapult my love, and so to heap
Upon your head the burning firebrands
Of shame. Stop looking at me down your nose—
You there, behind your biblical facade—
But turn and face the truth your mirror shows:
That you despise the righteousness of God.
You fools! Your power leads your feet astray;
The wicked shall be cut off in the dark.
These kindling coals will either light your way
Or light you up, when crisis strikes a spark.
    The time has come; whose kingdom will you choose?
    Come back to me! Believe in the Good News.

May 13, 2026

More often than not, a portion of Psalm 119 is assigned to Wednesdays in the Book of Common Prayer Daily Office Lectionary. Wednesdays are traditionally “station days” for the Church, in which Christians “stand guard,” fasting and praying for strength to overcome adversity. Psalm 119 is the ultimate prayer for worshipers to meditate on our primary source of strength—the word of God. Every single verse in this, the longest, chapter of the Bible includes a reference to the word of God: laws, decrees, commandments, statutes, etc. That’s 176 opportunities to trust in God’s word for strength to overcome evil.

Last Wednesday morning, Week 6 of Easter, while a group of us prayed Psalm 119:97-120, I was struck by this verse:

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Away from me, you wicked!
    I will keep the commandments of my God. (Psalm 119:115)

I think I was drawn to this verse because of my current relationship to the News. And I’m not talking about the Good News. More than anything else in this world, my attachment to bad news keeps me from delighting in God’s perfect law of love. Here, the psalmist gives me permission to tell evil to get the hell away from me.

More specifically, the image of wickedness that came into my mind when I prayed this verse was the Trump Administration’s anti-Christian policies that dominate the daily headlines. It’s hard not to hear and be affected by the voices that constantly spout hate.

I decided I wanted to reflect more deeply on what it looks like in my life to put this into action—sending the wicked away—instead of merely name-calling, so I wrote a poem.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer wrote in his little book Psalms: The Prayer Book of the Bible that when we pray the Psalms, we pray with Jesus. As I wrote down “Away from me, you wicked!” I heard the voice of Jesus saying it. When Peter rebuked Jesus for foretelling his death and resurrection, Jesus said, “Get behind me, Satan!” (Matthew 16:23). Jesus loved Peter, but he was not going to allow anything to get in the way of his mission. It was actually a kindness for Jesus to say this to Peter, because Peter then had the opportunity to reflect on his error and repent. Peter was an enemy of God in that moment, but the kindness of Jesus eventually led Peter into truth.

This scene brought to my mind the biblical image of heaping burning coals on the heads of our enemies by showing them kindness.

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“If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:20-21)

At this I began to think of my recent efforts to speak prophetically through my poetry, this Substack, and on Facebook. I have been deeply encouraged by so many of you who have written to me expressing your gratitude and relation to my writing. I need it, because the wickedness I witness from others, especially on Facebook, can be crushing: their ideological entrenchment in supremacy systems; their blind, partisan support of selfish, oppressive policies. What angers me most of all is when these people quote Bible verses to support their violent, nationalistic, racist views. James Talarico says they have “mouths full of Scripture and hearts full of hate.”

I have tried to engage many of my friends and family with kindness, challenging long-held beliefs, heaping burning coals on their heads. It’s hard to measure how effective this has been. All I can control is the posture of my heart towards those on whom I heap coals. Like Jesus, I want to have compassion on those I call wicked, just as Jesus has loved me.

This is heavy stuff, so after finishing the octave (first eight lines of a sonnet) I set the poem aside to rest. I picked it back up on Friday, the Church’s primary “station day.” (Jesus was crucified on a Friday, so it demands our deepest penitence.) The assigned Old Testament lesson for that day was Hannah’s Prayer. This verse in particular stood out to me:

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He will guard the feet of his faithful ones,
    but the wicked shall be cut off in darkness;
    for not by might does one prevail. (1 Samuel 2:9)

This was the image I needed in order to write the sestet (last six lines of a sonnet). The wicked who trust in their power are walking in darkness. The thought occurred to me that the coals I heaped onto their heads could do one of two things: light their way towards repentance, or consume them. At some point they will encounter a crisis that will force them to make a decision. My part was done when I sent them away with a prophetic word of love. The onus is on them to either repent or to remain obstinate when the time comes.

My friend Matt Tebbe says “conflict is ground zero for the in-breaking of the kingdom.” It presents people with a choice to repent and believe the Good News, or to remain stubborn and hard of heart. I am aware of my own propensity towards wickedness. Am I not guilty of cherry-picking Bible verses to support my agenda, like I am accusing of others? You’ll have to decide, and I would expect you to heap burning coals on my head if so.

I continually pray for the kindness of faithful people in Christ to lead me to repentance and reconciliation. Thank God for the daily practice of Confession, and for “station days” of self-reflection and penitence (Wednesdays and Fridays). With this poem, though, I am venting to God my frustration with wicked people, thankful to Jesus for the example and permission he gives me to send them away. May his kindness lead us all to repentance and belief in the Good News.

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By Ryan Flanigan

Break up your fallow ground; the time is now
to turn and face the One who comes to rain 
Sweet drops of justice gently on your brow.
Yes, even you who sow fear and disdain.
For you plow wickedness and reap injustice,
You eat the fruit of lies and trust the powers
Of warriors and military forces.
Therefore, behold the crumbling of your towers!
Yet it was I who taught you how to walk,
I caught you when your little legs were weak,
I stooped and fed you through your baby talk,
And lifted you in joy up to my cheek.
    For, unbeknownst to you, I am maternal.
    Sow justice, child, and reap my love eternal.

October 5, 2024

In a 1963 Time Magazine interview, Swiss theologian Karl Barth famously said:

Take your Bible and take your newspaper, and read both. But interpret newspapers from your Bible. (Karl Barth)

One year later, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 sought to create a more level playing field in the U.S. for people of all races, colors, religions, sexualities, and ethnicities. This was supposed to put an end to voter and employment discrimination as well as public segregation, but not everyone was ready for this.

The next year, in the spring of 1965, in response to extreme voter suppression in Alabama and the police killing of Jimmie Lee Jackson, John Lewis and Hosea Williams led a march for civil rights in Selma. State troopers and other local lynchmen brutally attacked several of the 600 peaceful protesters as they crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

“Bloody Sunday” was a pivotal moment in the fight for racial justice, bringing to national attention persistent inequity, racism, and violence. This march, along with a second march organized by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. two days later, directly led to the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which sought to enforce the 15th Amendment, outlawing voter discrimination practices.

Karl Barth was a vocal supporter of the Civil Rights Movement in the U.S. He had experienced similar injustice in the racial nationalism of 1930’s Germany, when he developed his theology of a God who always takes the side of the marginalized. He believed the same applied in the 1960’s U.S. and saw the Civil Rights Movement as an example of the “Bible” interpreting the “newspaper,” demanding justice for the oppressed in the U.S.

King loved the Bible, especially the Minor Prophets. One of his favorites to preach was Hosea for his steadfast proclamation of justice and love in the face of wickedness and injustice. Like Barth, King knew how to interpret what was happening in the world from the Bible.

In the U.S. today there is a resurgence of wickedness leading to all kinds of injustice. We may replace “newspaper” with “news app,” but Barth’s admonition is timeless for Christians to interpret the news from the Bible.

This is what I am attempting to do with Wryan Rites. So, when the Daily Office Lectionary assigned Hosea 10-11 one month before to 2024 election, there was a lot in the news to biblically interpret. Even more so now, a year and four months into Trump’s second term.

For my own mental health, though, instead of rattling off a litany of injustices wrought by the Trump administration, Congress, and the Supreme Court, I’ll leave the interpreting up to you. How would you interpret today’s news from Hosea? Perhaps my sonnet above, a versification of this text, may add some color.

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Sow for yourselves righteousness;
    reap steadfast love;
    break up your fallow ground;
for it is time to seek the Lord, 
    that he may come and rain 
            righteousness upon you.

You have plowed wickedness, 
    you have reaped injustice, 
    you have eaten the fruit of lies. 
Because you have trusted 
          in your power, 
    and in the multitude of 
          your warriors, 
therefore the tumult of war shall 
          rise against your people, 
    and all your fortresses 
          shall be destroyed…

Yet it was I who taught 
          Ephraim to walk, 
    I took them up in my arms; 
    but they did not know that 
          I healed them. 
I led them with cords of 
          human kindness, 
    with bands of love. 
I was to them like those 
    who lift infants to their cheeks. 
    I bent down to them 
          and fed them.

(Hosea 10:12-14a; 11‬:‭3‬-‭4‬)

I am choosing for the moment to be the infant that God, like a mother, lifts up and feeds. It is a time to let others do the deeper theological interpreting.

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By Ryan Flanigan

My God, my God, I need a better word
Than all this incoherent, rambling noise—
The power drunkards swim in the absurd;
The sober sink, who hate what hate enjoys.
Why do I keep returning to this vomit,
Abandoning my tongue to filthy waste? 
Where are you, God? You’d better come and calm it,
Before my heart begins to like the taste.
For Jesus’ sake I shut the smutty valve;
For Jesus’ sake I turn my face away;
For Jesus’ sake I cherish what I have,
And wait for what my Father has to say.
    This diet of toxicity can go,
    For Jesus is the sweetest word I know.

May 4, 2026

This past weekend my wife and I had the joy of leading music for Water and the Word, an annual conference put on by the Episcopal Diocese of Southwest Florida. The theme of the conference was “For Jesus’ Sake” from these words of the Apostle Paul:

Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

(2 Corinthians 4:1-12, my emphasis)

I wrote this poem during the conference as I was reflecting on my unhealthy attachment to the news. It’s not that we should ignore what’s happening in the world; it’s just that so much of it is so utterly absurd it can be foolish to try to make sense of it. The image that comes to mind is a dog eating vomit (Proverbs 26:11). Gross, I know. Also, toxic and not nutritious. A steady diet of this stuff, however, could become an acquired taste. It happens with other unhealthy things, like the various kinds of saccharine our culture offers. What’s to stop us from enjoying the taste of absurdity, despair, and deception from the news entertainment menu?

Paul is calling us to die to these desires. That is a hard saying for me. I’ve gotten used to the constant influx of smut. With such a habit, I find it difficult to hear the voice of God. This past weekend I was reminded of a better word. The best word. Jesus, for whose sake I live; for whose sake I am willing to die.

As Jesus hung on the cross, he felt forsaken by his Father. “My God, my God...” When my heart is inundated with the news, especially reports of those who “falsify God’s word,” I, too, feel forsaken by the Father. In my case, unlike Jesus’, it’s my own fault. I am a clay jar, a fragile cup, as last week’s poem reflected. Instead of filthy waste, I want to be filled with the sweetest substance I know—Jesus; with hope instead of despair, with peace instead of worry, with love instead of fear, with joy instead of sadness.

At Water and the Word Bishop Doug Scharf summed up Paul’s vision to live “for Jesus’ sake” like this:

We are living in a world experiencing ever-increasing secularization, polarization, and fragility. Our purpose as disciples of Jesus is to share the Good News in ways that are faithful to the gospel and resonant with our context. We are called to embody an authentic Christian witness that is grounded in our oneness, world-focused (not church-focused), responsive to human suffering, and expectant of God’s new creation.

This calling requires me to resist the temptation to drink from the firehose of national news, and to focus my attention instead on the needs of my family, neighbors, and local community; to continue acknowledging when I fail, forgiving myself and asking forgiveness from those I’ve neglected; to give thanks for God’s presence in the real world, instead of wishing God would make things different; and seeking God daily in prayer and Scripture until I hear the sound of that sweet word again and again—Jesus.

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By Ryan Flanigan

It may be difficult to hear the sound,
But God is speaking peace to faithful ones,
To those who dare to turn their hearts around
And follow in the path that Jesus runs.

“My peace I leave with you,” we hear him say,
And not the kind a government can give
By dropping bombs, imposing its own way;
His is a more demanding life to live.

To death our violent fantasies must go,
To hell with all our vitriolic speech.
The peace of Christ the world will never know, 
If greatness is the message that we preach.

So, we with empty hearts and open lips
Drink in the otherworldly peace of him
Who meets us in our weaknesses and flips 
Our fragile cup and fills it to the brim.

And overflowing with this heavenly peace—
As if we could contain its quiet rush—
The voices of God’s faithful must release
Its sound that all may hear it in the hush.

March 17, 2026

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I will listen to what the Lord God is saying,
    for he is speaking peace to his faithful people 
    and to those those who turn their hearts to him. (Psalm 85:8)

I find myself writing about peace often. (For example, “How to Heal the World”, “Anxiety's Release”, and “Let Thy Peace Prevail”.) Maybe it's because my default emotional posture in the world is anxious, and I am trying to speak peace into my existence.

There’s an irony, though, about God’s peace. It divides. We think of peace in terms of unity and wholeness, and it is these things, but it cuts first.

In the verse above the psalmist relates peace to repentance. Implied in the act of “turning our hearts to God” is a turning away, a cutting off, from other sources of life. Peace comes through repentance. The Scriptures image in many ways what is happening to the heart in the act of repentance: brokenness and contrition, circumcision, cutting, and burning.

Before Jesus speaks peace to his disciples, he says he did not come to bring peace but a sword. Those who choose to follow Christ will inevitably be cut off from their loved ones who are not willing, or do not yet see the need, to die to self.

I’ve noticed that my commitment to following the self-sacrificial way of Christ elicits mean-spirited comments and mischaracterizations of my motives from people I love. This is what the way of peace feels like. I am tempted to defend myself, but that is how anxiety wins. Peace demands a certain amount of “taking it” from people who have not yet turned their hearts toward God. That hurts, but “taking it” does not always mean standing silent before your accusers. It might require speaking the truth to power, always in love.

The peace of Christ looks weak to those who have not yet received it. They are still like the disciples who thought greatness was defined by how close they could get to power. Oh, you will get close to power, Jesus says, but not in the way you think. Their eventual repentance, putting away their sword, and commitment to walk in the way of peace got them hated and killed like Christ. Nothing that can match the strength of that high calling, and nothing looks more foolish to the unrepentant.

Beloved, I pray you turn your hearts to God and hear the voice of Christ speaking peace to you today. Read the poem one more time, if you like. May the Spirit fill your cup to overflowing, spilling the peace of God onto those around you today. Just beware! The peace you freely give may cause hearts to bleed.

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By Ryan Flanigan

The civil wedding bed of faith and nation
Is just as pagan as the New Age brew
Of looking to the stars for your vocation,
Then praying for the Lord to bless it too;
It’s just as antichrist as how the Pope
Sits in for Jesus at the Vatican;
And just as fatal as the slippery slope
Of softening God’s judgement on your sin.
The beautiful divorce of church and state
Is necessary for your faith to thrive.
It will demand you die to self and hate
Your kin, but in it you will come alive.
    No earthy king or country can be spliced
    To heaven and our liberator Christ.

February 27, 2026

America Reads the Bible (ARTB) is an event happening in Washington D.C. this week, in which conservative leaders are reading aloud the Bible from Genesis to Revelation. Before I break down how this event directly opposes the separation of church and state, that founding principle which allows for both faith and democracy to thrive, hear this:

I love the Bible.

I encourage all people to read the Bible, Christian or not, especially in the context of worship and in communion with well-studied interpreters. In other words, not just as a private study exercise with no accountability.

I believe that faith comes by hearing the word of Christ. The “word” doesn’t necessarily mean the “Bible,” but God’s voice of love can certainly be revealed through Bible reading and can inspire faith in Christ.

As a Christian I give heed to Paul’s instruction to Timothy to “give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching.”

Here’s the problem:

The assumption undergirding ARTB’s mission is that America was founded as a Christian nation with the Bible as its primary sourcebook. Despite what revisionist historians like David Barton want you to think, this is simply not the case. Yes, there were Christians involved in the nation’s early formation, like Roger Williams, but they especially saw the importance of the separation of church and state.

The church of the Jews under the Old Testament…and the church of the Christians under the New Testament…were both separate from the world. When they opened a gap in the hedge, or wall of separation, between the garden of the church and the wilderness of the world, God always broke down the wall, removed the candlestick, and made His garden a wilderness, as at this day. If God is ever pleased to restore His garden and paradise again, it must of necessity be peculiarly walled in from the world unto Himself. (Roger Williams)

ARTB asserts that the Bible is the foundation of America, “encouraging every American to rediscover our foundation.” It appears they don’t know the difference between the Bible influencing certain founders, versus the Bible itself being the foundation. The former allows for Christians to influence politics with their Bible-based morals, which is perfectly fine; the latter imposes the Bible on all Americans, which is not okay.

“Forced worship stinks in God’s nostrils,” said Roger Williams. We know the stench all too well in Texas, where the State Board of Education is currently reviewing a statewide mandated reading list that would require public school students to read passages from the Christian Bible. Roger Williams would consider this an “affront to God.”

If the Christian Scriptures were the foundation of America, people belonging to other religions would be second-class citizens (until they converted to Christianity). The founders were explicit about getting away from their European experiences of Christian Nationalism. They learned the hard way that merging religion and government always does more harm to society than good. Every war is holy. Every conquest divinely sanctioned. America’s founders said no, church and state must be separate. In fact, this separation was unique to the American experiment.

I can hear it now: For God’s sake, Ryan, you complain about everything. You are so negative. Why do you have to criticize everything. I thought you were a Christian. There is absolutely no reason for a Christian to be against this event.

Perhaps what gives away ARTB’s Christian Nationalist mission more than anything else (if their logo of the U.S. Capitol Building emerging from the Bible didn’t immediately give it away), is how excited they are that Donald Trump will be participating as a reader. At the top of their website is a banner that reads:

🇺🇸 Big News: President Trump will read Scripture from the Oval Office during America Reads the Bible.

Even the demons read—and shudder.

The passage Trump has been assigned to read contains one of the most oft quoted verses by U.S. Christian Nationalists:

If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land. (Two Chronicles 7:14, KJV)

It is important for Christians to recognize what is happening here. Instead of reading this passage the way it was intended to be read—as a conditional promise from God to ancient Israel—Christian Nationalists read “land” as “America,” and “wicked ways” as “homosexuality, abortion, and illegal immigration.” Implied is a recovery of what once was healthy about America, and they’ve asked one of the most immoral, prideful, and unrepentant Americans to read it.

Our beloved Bible is being used as a weapon in the culture war against non-white, non-conservative, non-straight, non-Christian Americans. And most Christian observers and participants are blind to this reality, thinking this event is making America great again. It’s not. It’s reinforcing white supremacy, just like Charlie Kirk’s funeral did.

There’s even a nod to the Seven Mountains Mandate, a cultural framework that justifies violence and domination in the name of God, including the Jan. 6, 2021 attack on the U.S. Capitol. From ARTB’s website:

This initiative invites Americans from every background to return to the spiritual foundation that has shaped our country — the Word of God...a public reading of the entire Bible, bringing together voices from government, education, business, the arts, and the Church.

The goal of the Seven Mountains Mandate is for conservative Christians to conquer and stand atop each of these cultural mountains: government, education, business, the arts, and the Church, plus family and media. Having leaders and celebrities from each of these spheres read the Bible for this event aims to project conservative Christian domination, that they are winning the culture war.

It would be more accurate for the name of this event to be White Christian Nationalists Read the Bible, because that seems to be the primary qualification for participating. The rest of us are not American enough by their ideological standards. They say they are inviting Americans from “every background” to “return” to what they claim to be our country’s foundation—the Bible. Think about how prejudiced that is. What does that mean for Muslim Americans, Jewish Americans, atheist Americans. At best it is a naive call for all Americans to convert to Christianity.

Could you imagine if a group of Muslims held an event in D.C. called America Reads the Koran? Would the President and Speaker of the House participate in that? They should have no democratic objection to it, because America is not a Christian nation. The church is separate from the state, and anyone may practice their religion without interference from the state. Christians may read the Bible, Muslims may read the Koran, and Jews may read Torah. And we can all read each other’s sacred texts to seek to better understand each other!

Even if you apply 2 Chronicles 7:14 more generally, which I am fine with doing, what does humility look like? What does prayer look like? What does acknowledging and turning from our wicked ways look like? This passage envisages a revival, a renewal of hearts, lives, and lands. Instead of standing on a platform displaying how Christian we are, while at the same time waging war, manufacturing grievances, and capitalizing on fear, why don’t we read the Bible the way it was intended to be read, submit to it as our defining narrative, and receive from it the divine revelation of God’s love in Christ Jesus.

Our mission, then, would be to love one another as Jesus has loved us; to prefer the poor and marginalized; to affirm Christ wherever the Spirit of Christ appears in the world, whether it be within Christian institutions or without, revealed in the Bible or not; to tear down walls of division and hatred; and to resist supremacy systems of every kind, including White Christian Nationalism.

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By Ryan Flanigan

Beware the haughty mind and mighty fist
That cultivates imaginary thirst
To solve a problem that does not exist,
And even may create the problem first,
Like voter fraud or WMD’s
Or anything that plants a seed of fear;
They keep us in perpetual unease
And slowly bleed our will to persevere.
We hunger and we thirst for righteousness,
For justice to reveal all ill-intent,
That vicious liars no longer impress,
And in your stream we find our true content.
    Bloodthirsty people never stop their drinking;
    Blood-covered people rise up from their sinking.

March 1, 2026

Happy Eastertide, friends! I am returning to Substack after my Lenten hiatus. Unfortunately, the mental rest I was hoping for eluded me. Satan drove me into the wilderness of Facebook for 40 days, where, unlike Jesus, temptation got the best of me. I’m glad to be back. My thoughts are far more organized on this platform, and I know that the 136 of you who have subscribed to my Substack are invested in my work. Thank you.

“Bloodthirst” is among a handful of poems I wrote during Lent. On February 28th the United States bombed Iran. Then came the giddy drooling of the war hawks. Those in the highest positions of national power claim this is a righteous cause, a holy war, and, most disturbingly, that God deserves the glory. The deception and propaganda is out of control, and so, so many Christians are falling for it. Sadly, Christian Nationalism is on full display.

After jumping from the highest point of the temple into the Facebook cesspool, I am more convinced than ever how vital it is for Christians in the U.S. to distinguish themselves from Christian Nationalism. You can tell the difference by whose blood you drink.

Christians drink the blood of the Innocent One, Jesus Christ, who conquers evil through self-sacrificing love.

Christian Nationalists drink the blood of the innocent, such as 160 school girls, and think evil can be conquered through war.

Bloodthirsty people lick their fingers, enjoying every last drop of the blood on their hands.

Into a world of wicked rulers and their loyal subjects who see violence as a way to quench their thirst for power, Jesus proclaims,

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. (Matthew 5:6)

Jesus offers his life, his blood, for those who thirst for justice. Look at the stream of blood in the van Eyck painting above pouring out of the Lamb. Notice the chalice into which the blood flows. Jesus is inviting all to drink his blood.

To drink the blood of the Lamb is to be forgiven and to forgive.

To drink the blood of Christ means to resist the cup of retaliation and domination, no matter how great or small the conflict.

The crucified and resurrected Jesus is asking us today what he asked the Sons of Thunder: “Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?” (Matthew 20:22).

In his beautiful little book Can You Drink the Cup? Henri Nouwen digs into this question. To summarize, Nouwen

contrasts the cup of Jesus with worldly ambitions. The disciples James and John, when Jesus asked them "Can you drink the cup?", were in the very same conversation angling for seats of power and honor in his kingdom. Nouwen reflects on this irony — that the question about the cup was asked in the context of a desire for dominance and status, and Jesus essentially reframes greatness entirely. Drinking the cup, in Nouwen's reading, is the opposite of grasping for power. (claude.ai)

Contrary to the blessed who thirst for justice, those who refuse the cup of Christ will never be filled. Their throats burn with unquenchable fire. No amount of bloodshed will satisfy them. But those who are able to drink the cup of salvation will rise with Christ. They will not be abandoned to a hellish life. They will not see corruption. A happy Easter indeed!

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By Ryan Flanigan

My enemies have set a feast before me:
My flesh is plotting for my soul to kill;
The ones who hate me are too mighty for me;
The one who likes me least is stronger still.
Remember in whose sight you’re ever walking;
Return me to the guardian of my fleece:
The Shepherd at whose gate the wolf comes stalking,
In whom we live and move and have our peace.
O Savior, rescue me because you love me;
Yes, bring me out into an open place,
Where I shall fear no predator above me,
Nor feel the squeeze of death’s confining brace.
    Desire wages war against oblation.
    O Father, lead me not into temptation.

April 11, 2024

I had the pleasure of spending some time with beloved British poet-priest Malcolm Guite in Waco, TX in the winter of 2024. One evening a couple dozen of us gathered in a friend’s living room to listen to him recite poetry and tell stories. Malcolm mostly uses the Shakespearean sonnet form for his poetic compositions. It was during this meeting that I was inspired to give this sonnet form a shot. I have found it to be a deeply rewarding and revealing practice, having now written nearly 30 sonnets myself. 6 of my previous Substack posts are sonnets. This poem “Return” is the very first sonnet I composed not long after meeting Malcolm.

William Shakespeare popularized this sonnetic structure, which includes 14 lines of iambic pentameter, 3 quatrains and a couplet. The quatrains usually present a problem followed by a resolution, and “the turn” usually happens after the octave at the start of the sestet. The rhyme scheme is A-B-A-B, C-D-C-D, E-F-E-F, G-G. The writer has 14 lines, 140 syllables, to say what they want to say. This concise form pulls images and ideas out of me that I did not know were there.

I thought “Return” would be a fitting poem for the coming season, a sonnet calling me back to prayer. Lent is a season to repent and reorder our rhythms into Christ. I need a season to recalibrate. In fact, this will be the last poem I post for a while, as I am taking a break for Lent. I love posting on Substack, and I will return to it, but it takes a lot of my time and heart space.

Another thing that has been taking up way too much of my attention is the News. Rereading this poem now, I can’t help but think of media as the “enemy” that is dominating my “desires.” My news and podcast feeds have replaced the Scriptures and daily prayer in my life. A feast of constant information is always set before me, and I have an insatiable appetite for it. I have been consuming and consuming and consuming, and it has been sucking the life out of me.

For my Paid Subscribers I plan to share what I am learning throughout the season. If you want to keep the conversation going, smash that Upgrade button to become a Paid Subscriber. Otherwise, you’ll hear from me in Easter.

I pray this poem helps you enter faithfully into the season of Lent. Here are the Scriptures and prayers that inspired “Return”:

Psalm 18:18-20

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He delivered me from my strong enemies, 
and from those who hated me;
    for they were too mighty for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster;
    but the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into an open place;
    he rescued me, because he delighted in me.

1 Peter 2:11, 25

Beloved, I urge you, as aliens and exiles to abstain from the desires of the flesh that wage war against the soul. … For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and the guardian of your souls.

The Lord’s Prayer, BCP 1979

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Give us this day, our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
    as we forgive those
        who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
    but deliver us from evil.

A Collect for Guidance, BCP 1979

Heavenly father, in you we live and move and have our being: We humbly pray you so to guide and govern us by your Holy Spirit, that in all the cares and occupations of our life we may not forget you, but may remember that we are ever walking in your sight; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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