Editor’s note: In the March 20 issue of the Outlook, part of this poem appeared as the lectionary for March 26, 2006. It was not until it was printed that the writer and the Outlook discovered that it was an earlier version and a later version including a further section had not been transmitted to the magazine. We are now running the poem in its complete form for further inspiration and edification.
I’ve never been bitten by a serpent
although one early dawn hour
I was awakened by my brother
who appeared quite happy
having just recovered his lost snake
under my bed.
Perhaps I, unlike the poor Israelites,
was spared because I don’t ever remember
complaining about my mother’s cooking,
but complain about the food the Israelites did.
Even though God had sent water and manna
and an occasional quail,
the Israelites said they detested the miserable food.
God, who had saved them from captivity
and was saving them for the Promised Land,
had had it with their complaining,
to say nothing of their unfaithfulness.
God sent serpents who bit their ankles
and many died.
In great fear the Israelites ran to Moses
to pray that God would forgive them
and rid them of the serpents.
Moses built a poisonous serpent of bronze,
as God had instructed,
and set it high on a pole.
The ones who were bitten
were to look at “the brazen serpent”
and be saved.
The belief in God’s saving power—
not any magic of the bronze serpent—
brought life.
Jesus thought the serpent story important enough
to tell to the people in his day,
explaining that just as Moses lifted up
the serpent in the wilderness,
the Son of Man would be lifted up
so that the believers would have eternal life.
Of course, Jesus would be lifted up on a cross,
and Jesus would die for their sins…and ours.
The table blessing our parents taught us was:
“O give thanks to the Lord for God is good
God’s steadfast love endures forever”.
We taught it to our children.
Too bad the Israelites didn’t give thanks
instead of complaining.
Moses had told them to trust in God.
Believe and you’ll go to the Promised Land,
but I guess it sounded just too good to be true.
Just as grace sounded to the people in Jesus’ day.
Just as grace sounds to us today.
For God so loved the world …
The melody of the anthem
we sang in the church choir
when I was in high school
floats over me,
inbeds itself in me,
repeats itself …
that God sent his only begotten son. …
The days of Lent are passing too quickly.
Almost over almost over.
Where have the days gone?
What have we done?
that whoso believeth, believeth in him. …
Keep your eyes on me.
shall not perish shall not perish
Eyes on me.
but have everlasting life
everlasting life
Eyes on me
Many did, many didn’t
keep their eyes on Jesus.
Many do, many don’t
keep their eyes on Jesus.
God gave covenant
commandments
laws
life
freedom
promise
hope
and love …
and they complained
about the food.
The story makes me nervous.
For God so loved the world
that God gavegavegavegave
gave his only son
that whoever believes in him
will have everlasting life.
Gave!
We don’t have to earn it.
If we believe we will follow we will live.
Believe follow live.
Live because you follow because you believe
God’s good news.
We met Jesus in the hall
and he asked where we’d been.
In the plenary, we answered.
Why? he asked.
We thought that’s where
you wanted us to be, we said.
Why? he asked.
Because, we answered,
that’s where the decisions are made.
He looked at us and said:
The decisions have already been made.
We looked at each other,
not knowing what to say.
Who do you say that I am? he asked.
Luckily for us, Peter had already
answered this one.
The Messiah, we said in chorus,
hoping we’d get applause
just as Peter did.
Without a word he said,
Keep your eyes on me,
and started down the hall.
We followed although the crowd
became thick and he walked quickly.
Every once in a while, he would turn,
Keep your eyes on me.
We asked him to tell us
where he was going
in case we got lost.
If you keep your eyes on me,
you won’t be lost.
But where, we cried,
are we going???
Into the world, he said.
not into the world
to condemn the world
The melody again …
but to save the world.
Into the world, he said,
into the world.
Come, follow.
We were tired trying to
keep our eyes on Jesus
and walk through the crowded streets
all at the same time.
Don’t you understand? we asked,
we are your church.
We go into all the world all the time;
we’ve done so many things
in your name.
Don’t you know how much we do?
Suddenly we stand in the Lenten darkness,
hearing our own complaining voices,
snakes slithering around our ankles
under our beds.
We cry out, for Jesus has disappeared.
Neon lights flash words into the dark:
You congratulate yourselves
on your good works
and yet, you yourselves were saved.
and not by your own doing,
but God’s,
so that no one can boast.
By grace you have been saved through faith
And then silence.
Just when we think we know you,
just when we’re sure who you are
and where it is you’re sending us
and to what it is you’re calling us,
just when we’re comfortable in the pew,
just then is when
you move out of your frame
and do something new
and entirely unexpected.
O Expected One,
you are never the one we expect.
You said, Follow me:
we looked away for just a moment
and you disappeared down a street
and we stand in darkness
lost without you.
Have mercy on us, for we meant to
keep our eyes on you,
but we were afraid we’d have to follow you
into the midst of war or torture or poverty.
We’re afraid we’d have to hold a dying world in our arms.
We confess our trivial worlds loom larger
than your word.
We confess we keep our eyes on our own wants and fears
instead of on you.
We confess we make excuses
for not following you into
broken hearts
broken lives
broken bodies
broken bonds
broken promises
broken homes
broken communities
broken nations
this broken world
O God, we confess the brokenness of your Church.
Give us life once more in the light of your Word!
In the silence of our prayer we wait for his forgiveness.
Light comes and once more he’s saying:
Keep your eyes on me and you will live!
Ann Weems of St. Louis, Mo., is a best-selling poet-writer, speaker, and conference leader. She is an ordained elder in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Her works include Kneeling in Bethlehem, Kneeling in Jerusalem, and Psalms of Lament.
