Apologetics

Apologetics January 7, 2022
One of my goals for The Estuary blog centers on featuring a variety of art forms focused on worship. My brother inherited the family talent for drawing, and I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. My lack in those areas convinced me that I wasn’t an artist. But I’ve come to see that art is much broader than drawing and singing. Photography, poetry, pottery, songwriting . . . the creative arts encompass much more than images on a canvas. So you’ll see a variety of art forms scattered throughout the posts here.
Today, I’ve invited Stephanie McIntosh to share her poem Apologetics with us.
I pored over those words you wrote me  

again last night  

and they spoke to me fresh and pierced  

my soul  

like I had soaked in living water.  

This morning, the pages rest—  

fully dry now  

but with rippled spots  

from so much  

cheek-streaming regret,  

and I can’t think of  

anything  

besides how sorely I owe you an apology,  

you whose words flow gentle and kind  

despite my ugly but  

apologetic heart.   

I think apologetically now  

about that time  

at the dinner party.  

You  

only wished for my presence with  

you,  

but the empty stove mocked me  

and grimy floors beckoned  

and I chose plates  

over the depth of  

breathing  

you  

in.  

I forgot that you’re the way.  

I think apologetically now  

about that time  

on the lake when the ashen clouds  

roared with authority.  

You  

only wanted me to trust  

you  

enough to brave the waves,  

but I  

shied away from you  

and preferred my feet planted  

where I  

felt safe.  

I forgot that you’re the truth.  

I think apologetically now  

about that time  

in the garden.  

You  

only asked that I stay up to talk with  

you,  

but my weak flesh betrayed you  

and my heavy eyelids fell  

and I  

surrounded you with deafening silence  

on your darkest night.  

I forgot that you’re the life.  

And I think apologetically now  

about all the times  

I try to carry the weight  

of a world that  

you  

already  

set  

free.  

You set me free, too,  

but  

I forget.

 

Stephanie McIntosh

Stephanie McIntosh writes stories and poems about faith and the human experience. She teaches kindergarten most days, practices woodworking sometimes, and studies at Dallas Theological Seminary in between. Stephanie also holds both a bachelor’s degree in Human Biology and a master’s in Elementary Education from Stanford University. She and her husband share a home in North Carolina with their three children, a usually-empty snickerdoodle jar, and a collection of time-worn hardcovers.
"I find it a rather dubious place to start with the assertion protestants want to ..."

Why Protestants Should Give Jesus’s Mother, ..."
"I also recently got DBE3, but haven't really gotten into it. I read the intro ..."

What Our Brothers Are Writing about ..."
"Bartlett is in my top 3, for sure! I included him in a separate post ..."

What Our Brothers Are Writing about ..."
"Sorry I'm just now seeing this comment! Yes, I love Icons!! I included it in ..."

What Our Brothers Are Writing about ..."

Browse Our Archives

error: Content is protected !!