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Lego Men

God is forever.
We are plastic lego men.

Watch my little 12-year-old step son
Playing with his legos.

He can be a cruel master.
One lego man jumps onto an unfortunate victim
And pops his head and arms right off.
Another comes, and punches that one into all of his pieces.
The next runs that one over with a lego truck.
They fly and fall and die
Causes of death include imaginary A-bombs
lasers, machine guns, falling off cliffs
The music of explosive mouth noises and cries of protest.
“Ahhhhhh! Nooooooo! That’s it, you’re dead!”
A graveyard of lego limbs strewn across the carpet.

God is not like my 12-year old step son.

But we are like his lego men.
The rights they have
Are the same as our rights
Where God is concerned.

Who will stay Isaiah’s hand?
Or tell him “Stop this madness!”
“What are you doing?”
“That’s inhumane and unjust!”
They are his lego men.
He does with them as he pleases.

I mean,

As long as he doesn’t
Flush them down the toilet
Or set them on fire
(Without supervision)

Or shoot them with his bb gun
(Without supervision)

Or tie one to a sparkler staked into the ground – light the sparkler at the top -- and sacrifice the lego man to the blazing apocalypse of sparks as it sizzles slowly down … and down … finally engulfing the little lego dude in flames and melting him into unrecognition.
(Without supervision)

(OK. I was there supervising that one. And it was a little bit awesome.)

God is not like my 12-year old step son.
Or like me, supervising the chaos with half-guilty enjoyment.

God is full of mercy.
Mercy is undeserved.
We are lego men.
Worthy of no consideration.

And God loves us.

Which shows how infinite and puzzling
The love of God is
That extends down
To particles of dust.

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