He looked a little like Santa Clause 

And I pondered how the Bible says people are made in the image of God

The small hole of his mouth moved incessantly 

Nestled deep within that thick snow white beard 

As he interrupted everyone 

In that living room we exchanged superficial pleasantries 

It was worse than I feared 

The Bible also says to love 

Sometimes I find it’s rough

Like the scathing words that spew out of people’s mouths

It’s amazing what comes out 

To be on the receiving end 

Of a dagger 

To be chewed into by a ruthless badger 

How do I reconcile?

With the mean, the hurtful, the entitled?

Is there a place for those with labels?

The Blacks, the Mexicans, the Europeans, the rich, the poor, the gays, the trans

Are these names just pointing to fables, like Santa Clause

Are they not all reflections of the Great I Am ?

So what is with our categories? 

In our slavery and racism and hatred we like to tell stories 

We’ve created idols 

Of superiority 

Anything for some man-made glory

What if people are the image of God?

It seems that the expression has been robbed 

There’s a grinch on the loose 

Every day I try to resist him 

But it’s a struggle to choose  

I like to think I have no idols 

But I know that loving my neighbor can be a trial 

Individualism, cynicism 

All the other isms

Have become part of my catechism

Help me, Lord

My heart is torn

I desire to see your image 

The real You

Not some distorted form

Help me be Your reflection 

For those that are lookin’

A light in the storm 

You’re not in a category 

Or just part of the allegory

You’re more than what’s on the surface 

Can you put me in the furnace?

You’re beyond the isms

Help me know that 

So I can forgive and be forgiven

And point us all toward the right vision