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The Sermon

Rex  Butters BY

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the old jazz musician sat
wheelchaired on the Denver mall
playing for spare change
he wore a jaunty plaid fishing hat
held his sax at an angle like Prez
blowing the ballad "Lover Man."

the white haired southerner
his jovial meat red face
bulbous nose varicose veined
grin crowded into crimson lined flaccid cheeks
crisp white shirt and string tie
dropped his knee to the concrete
brought sparkly blueberry diamond eyes
close to the dark leather wingtip
face of the sax man

and like a slow patient lover
the old country preacher
initiated a rhythm
smile selling Jesus:

Do you love Him and want Him
enough
to rise up from your chair
to be healed for His Glory?
Can you trust in His Love?
Rise Up, brother
Leave Your Chair this Morning!
Stand Up PROUD In His Love!
TESTIFY To The Glory Of His Name!

a disciple
lime green polyester sport coat
over his white wool chain stitch sweater
stopped
and praise Jesus, hot for the miracle

the jazzman's eyes
turned skyward wide open
his thick lipped grin grew
the disciple and minister each took an arm:

STAND UP! STAND UP!

held erect a moment
dead legs bent
feet lying helpless under loose ankles
his empty knees buckled
collapsing all three to the chair
spilling the sax on the sidewalk
among brown & yellow leaves

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