Wide, Wide World

In this whole wide world, why is it necessary to redeem an artist who has betrayed the public trust? Rape or molest or assault a woman, there should be consequences. For all time. If that means revoking your right to contribute to this world artistically? Then so be it.

There are many talented people who produce art who do not produce hatred, fear or mistrust. If someone has violated another person, why should their work have any meaning?

The whole reason we produce art is to escape the brutality of the world. Anyone who offers truth, beauty or wisdom in the form of art and then molests the very people who consume their brand? They should be held accountable and exiled from the creative community. Meaning: go crawl in a hole, be quiet, make amends. And/or go to jail.

Can they be redeemed? Yes.
Will their work survive? It shouldn’t.

Because it was a lie.


Can you love the artist who rapes or offends after their sin? Yes. Can they be forgiven? With true, sincere remorse and understanding. But I don’t have to save their work or participate in the appreciation of their contribution. Let’s all just move forward without paying these selfish creatives to show us lies. Let’s support positive, moral artists who show us their true inner life and make the wide world a better place.


Louis CK was one of my favorite comedians. I even let my daughter watch some of his specials. Never again. I won’t support an artist who would take advantage of someone like my daughter. It’s heartbreaking, but so is life.

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Christmas Crash

This is a poem I wrote several years ago. I wrote it for the church I was attending. The drama director had doubts about a white woman writing a spoken word poem in a masculine voice. The piece was for a male performer. That made me want to do it all the more. I think I did a good job and the voice is neutral. Men and women can both be strong. Both love God. Both raise their voices to honor Him.

The drama director was surprised at how well the piece came across and apologized for her doubts. She still never fully trusted me, but that’s her loss. This was my first spoken word poem. I still love it. Here’s a link to me, my husband and my daughter performing it from our home in KC. It may be slightly overwrought, but we’re actors. You can’t fight city hall.


Crash.Crashing.Crushing.Crushed.

I stagger here crushed, crashed into by God,
Crushed by the weight of his mercy and grace,
My sin gone without a trace.
And it feels like…heaven.

A flash.
Flashing.
Hit by lightning, the wonder of his coming,
Saved by his dying,
Crying at the moment I see his glory
And he is revealed to me.

This world is full of:
Head-on collisions,
Rear-view visions.
Hurt may appear
Closer in the mirror.

Hitting, hurting, burning,
Scratching, fighting, scarring.
And we don’t even know
Who we’ve struck on the road

With our carelessness. Our thoughtlessness. Our inhumanity.

Though–we are saved.
Without reason or cause.
Captured and raptured.
In spite of our flaws.

Made by his hands,
Made for his plans,
Made just like him.

Built for relationship.
Desiring fellowship,
Asking for love and loyalty–
Our trust in His royalty.

Our undivided attention.

And when he crashes into us,
It doesn’t hurt.
But you know that you’ve been hit.

Crash.

He crashes into us.
He leaves a mark.
Stunned mind, ears ring.
A mark made by the one, true king.

Crash.

He came on a star.
He left on a cloud.
Here but a brief second.
A drop in the bucket.

But he changed man’s heart forever.

Hit and run.
Hit and stun.
Crash.

Crash.Crashing.Crushing.Crushed.

Crushed by his glory, stick around for the story,
The story of Love.
A story of grace.
God came to earth and showed us his face.
The face of a child in such a lowly place.

Eternal spirit become flesh.
Forever and finite, in a sense,
Wisdom clothed in innocence.

Power in weakness,
Eternity from meekness,
He does nothing but seek us.

He came here to this dangerous space.
A tiny member of the human race
To save.  The.  World.

He crashed into history.
He flashed into being.
Everything changes,
Believing is seeing.

The story gets better.
The story is a letter.
A letter from me to you
By Him.

Read it from beginning to end.
And read it again.
And again.
And again.

Brace for impact.


I feel so lucky that God came down for Christmas. Happy holidays. ❤