Cross Sections: A Poetry Collection

By Matt Schur

"Cross Sections is a powerful book of poetry-as-prayers weaving together Christian imagery, tradition, progressive theology, and fresh vision. For those of us familiar with scripture, especially, Schur's words challenge us to boldly and tenderly engage some of the verses and stories that are so familiar to us that they have otherwise go

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Schur
• Release date: May 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578903712

Matt Schur

Matt Schur is the author of Cross Sections (2021), and has had poetry published in Valiant Scribe Literary Journal, Unlikely Stories, and Cathexis Northwest Press. He holds a BA in English from Truman State University and an MA in Systematic Theology from Luther Seminary. Matt and his family live in Lincoln, Nebraska, where he serves as a full-time case manager for people experiencing homelessness and as a part-time music director for The Lutheran Center at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.

Book preview

SECTION 1: THE CROSS IN OUR LIVES

Galatians 6:2

Depressive Faith

A Mother’s Prayer

Forgiveness

Psalm 22

Dust

SECTION 2: THE CROSS IN OUR NEIGHBOR

Artistry

St. Francis (Not His Real Name)

Requiem for a Heresy

Fred

Ben

Grounded

SECTION 3: THE CROSS IN THE WORLD

On My Way to Church Easter Morning

O Little Town

Idolatry

The Second Commandment

Repent

White American Jesus

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

Snow Sex

SECTION 4: THE CROSS IN THE CHURCH

Ave Maria

Believable Imperfection

We Wait Expectantly

Blasphemous Hosannas

Procession

Christus Victor

Emmaus

But I Say to You

Lord We Wait for You in Darkness

Scapegoat

Genesis is Not a Science Textbook So Please Stop Treating It as One

Acknowledgments

SECTION 1: THE CROSS IN OUR LIVES

Come. Let us sit.

Let us just be for a moment.

Or for many moments.

Let my presence be a safe space,

a soft place for you to land.

You say you’re falling,

that the once solid ground beneath you

silently cracked

slowly crumbled away

and left you plunging into the abyss.

The thing of it was, you say,

you could watch it happening

like a movie

or a dream—

that one dream where your feet are stuck,

which (you heard somewhere)

invades the brain when someone feels stuck

and maybe you were, you ponder out loud

but

now

you’re

plummeting

and you would give anything to be stuck again

back then at least the surroundings were familiar

when you were slow dancing with the devil you know.

Sometimes the most devastating earthquakes

are the little ones

the ones you barely notice at first

the ones that you’re sure you can handle

looking down you see solid ground

no cracks

no crumbling.

You can’t even feel that your feet are stuck.

You’ve got this handled so

there’s no emergency

no fight or flight

no need to even move

because you’re safe.

Except

you’re not.

Beneath the fresh green grass

mowed so neatly

trimmed with care

a deep cavern opens out of sight—

a dark pit gradually weakening the ground

preparing to devour you

while you obliviously stand

until the slow-motion uncontrolled descent begins

and

you

fall.

You tell me all of this, adding a bitter irony:

the earthquake that finally finished

breaking the earth open beneath you,

sending you hurtling toward oblivion...

that one was hardly anything.

Barely a blip on your personal seismograph.

I too have felt the ground give way beneath me.

I too have experienced that hideous downward death spiral,

wondering if this hole is limitless

or worse, what awaits at the bottom.

Will I be dashed against the rocks,

a crushed, lifeless body?

Could survival somehow be worse?

Could I spend eternity alone, broken, bleeding?

Yes, I have felt all those things.

Our feet may have rested on different terrain

the ground rumbling beneath us may have shaken

with a different frequency

or a different intensity

but the falling? Yes.

the fear? Yes.

the helplessness? Yes.

the pit? Yes.

So come here. Let us sit.

Let us just be for a moment.

Or for many moments.

Let my presence be a safe space

a soft place for you to land.

You say you’re falling

And I’ve fallen too.

But I survived the landing.

And I found a way