Author: ppadmin

A Broadman Hymnal story

by Ken Sehested

The story begins on a Saturday, before dawn, while still in high school. I began my 12-hour shift of pumping gas, doing oil changes, and washing cars in my hometown along the South Louisiana bayous.

First thing when we opened was to transfer product displays and stacks of new tires outside. The radio was on—the station owner loved the Cajun and Zydeco music on the local station. Then the music stopped, momentarily, for a bit of news. The announcer was saying something about Martin Luther King Jr.

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Storm coming

How to tell the truth about climate collapse without counseling despair

by Ken Sehested
23 September 2019

Stirred by correspondence with three friends, and punctuated by two historic events, the past week has been a whirlwind of emotions.

My good friend Greg is the smartest person I personally know when it comes to understanding the complex web of factors behind impending environmental collapse. He also has a keen moral vision. A high school math teacher, his convictions are rooted in spiritually-formed personal integrity. He’s taken part in dozens of environmental direct actions, including several stays in jail, for acts of civil disobedience.

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Hearts over heads

A Reformation Sunday story

by Ken Sehested

My wife Nancy and I were jointly ordained on Reformation Sunday, 1981, at Oakhurst Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia. As you might guess, the choice of the date was intentional—not simply to align ourselves to that dissenting ecclesial movement of a half-millennium ago, but to affirm that the community of faith is always and everywhere called to reform and refine its vision and mission, to realign itself at the intersection of the abiding Word and the ever-shape-shifting words whose purpose are to confuse and deceive and vandalize the common good.

The days leading up to that Sunday were glad ones, with one misgiving. My parents made a long car trip to be present for the occasion, and we didn’t know how my traditional-minded Dad was going to take being present for a woman’s ordination.

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What we need is here

Meditation on mayhem while sitting shiva

by Ken Sehested
All Hallow's Eve 2018

Introduction.This prose poem’s origin began upon confrontation
with three recent tragedies spurred by white nationalists in my
country: pipe bombs sent to public figures opposing our nation’s
nefarious governance; the killing of two African Americans in a
Kentucky grocery store after the shooter was unable to enter a
black church for the same purpose; and then a successful, deadly
sanctuary shooting in a Pittsburgh synagogue. This poem’s
completion came after participating in a Jewish mourning the
dead ritual (sitting shiva), specifically in light of the Pittsburgh
massacre, in one of our city’s synagogues where the rabbi,
referencing Isaiah’s famous “Comfort, comfort my people”
refrain (chapter 40), suggested that the text can also be read
as “Find comfort in my people.” Which is exactly what we were
doing in that packed-to-overflowing sanctuary.

WE ARE IN A WORLD OF HURT. And the hurt submits to no tawdry
there-there, it’ll-be-alright. To the hurting, there is no be-alright
on the horizon. That’s why it hurts: such pain calls the future into
question. Hurt is more than pain. It is threat: that dawn’s dispersive
power against night’s dread can no longer be trusted. Of the kind of
weeping that compounds the sorrow and leads to no joy.

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Dream On

Martin Luther King Jr., the Beloved Community and post-holiday resolve

by Ken Sehested

        The needs of a beloved had me racing to the emergency room late Monday evening, near the end of Dr. King’s birth-honoring holiday. Then, often enough, comes the tedious waiting, including finding things to occupy your time when the hours drag on. My eyes fell on one of those large monitors that crowd the walls of every room. When not in use by medical personnel, it reverted to a series of in-house hospital notices.

        One wished a “happy holiday” (likely irritating the “Merry Christmas” culture-warring patrons). Another reminded staff of new parking regulations. Another solicited volunteers for the hospital chorus which performs at special occasions; another warned about “medication diversion,” referencing the epidemic of prescription drug misuse; another announced the hospital’s medical insurance plan.

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If justice and only justice

Lamech's threat of escalating violence

by Ken Sehested

If justice, and only justice, is
            all we ask, none will
                        escape the hangman’s
                                    ugly work.

Some are less culpable, of course, no doubt, some did more, yes, some less righteous than me and mine, some more, some so much more, mucho mas more are worse than others and, in particular, worse than me,

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If justice and only justice

Lamech's threat of escalating violence

by Ken Sehested

If justice, and only justice, is
            all we ask, none will
                        escape the hangman’s
                                    ugly work.

Some are less culpable, of course, no doubt, some did more, yes, some less righteous than me and mine, some more, some so much more, mucho mas more are worse than others and, in particular, worse than me,

Read more ›

Silent night

An Advent poem

by Ken Sehested

To move into a seemingly bleak and
ominous future requires laying hold
of stories from our past:

Stories to remind us that buoyancy
        emerges from unseen places,
        at unknowing moments,
        in unpredictable ways,
        beyond all calculation
        and prognostication.

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Silent night

An Advent poem

by Ken Sehested

To move into a seemingly bleak and
ominous future requires laying hold
of stories from our past:

Stories to remind us that buoyancy
        emerges from unseen places,
        at unknowing moments,
        in unpredictable ways,
        beyond all calculation
        and prognostication.

Read more ›