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Honestly, my world has ended so many times that when people speak of such things I tend to just roll my eyes. Been there, done that, and I have the tee-shirt, or at least, I have the scars.

Once some people came to my door selling the end of the world and I was ready to buy, too! I’ll take three. Bring it on. Can’t get here fast enough as far as I’m concerned. I’m out in the middle of the street looking for the delivery truck.

The last time my world ended I was filled with regret, like I’m not finished yet. I’m like a pot roast that has not yet been tenderized. All we have here is a low grade cut of meat and some crunchy potatoes. I need time to slow cook, to infuse those spices, to spoon myself off the bone.

In the midst of melodrama I tend to cry out to God like, the world is ending, what ever do I do? He has never answered me as I expected. I would assume He would say, repent, put your affairs in order, and wallow in regret. Also, rejoice, judgement is coming. (We people tend to like our end of the world judgement scenarios because vengeance feels so good and all our enemies are going down.)

God never said any of that to me. Nope, not a word. He said, it’s such tragedy that you didn’t take the time to read more poetry.

Read more poetry?

In the social media world and on the ground in real life, hardly a day goes by without a good half a dozen people demanding I repent of something, Christians and secularists alike. Wrong thought, bad politics, taking up too much space. People are literally, “You know what’s wrong with you??” No, but I bet you’re ready to enlighten me in 144 characters or less.

That’s not God at all. Nope! He knitted me together, He knows every hair on my head, and He is not worried about any of it. His biggest concern seems to be that I haven’t read enough poetry.

Which brings me to my final point, let God define, refine, and shape you. We are who He says we are, not what the world speaks over us. This is ten times as important right now in the midst of identity politics, extremist reactionary pastors, and weird bear cults trying to relocate to Idaho.

Read more poetry. God said.