The Poet Laureate’s Synod 2015 Contribution. “CRC Jobs I’ll Probably Never Get”
And he receives a gift.
CRC Jobs I’ll Probably Never Get
I’ve always hoped I’d have a job
where folks would give ovation.
To be a famous singer
would be a great vocation.
But, I have no friends or groupies,
I’ll never be a star.
The problem is I can not sing
or even play guitar.
Still, there are jobs I’d love to do
here in the CRC,
and there seem to be some openings,
because of our retirees.
I could’ve been the top executive,
taken over World Renew,
or gotten into lots of trouble,
like Banner editors tend to do.
If Synod had decided,
“We need to dig a hole.”
Joel Boot would’ve had to plan it,
and figure out each role.
He’d have been leaning on a shovel,
asking, “How deep does Synod want it?”
while wondering ’bout a budget,
and if the RCA’d already done it.
DeMoor would’ve heard about the hole
while sitting in the shade.
He’d have Gayla write a story
while he drank his lemonade.
This time he’d follow guidelines,
avoiding any trouble,
but he’d only talk about its depth
he would never touch a shovel.
Muller might have spent his time
turning how folks should dig holes
into theological gyrations.
He’d explain throughout their history,
Reformed folks came to understand
that the digging of a deeper hole,
is easier when there’s sand.
Ryskamp would have grabbed a shovel,
after stopping for a brew,
he’d walk past all those thinkers,
and do what deacons do.
He’d stick a shovel in the ground,
soon sweat would stain his shirt,
’cause he’d be the only person
who was actually flinging dirt.
Now, I wouldn’t want to have his job,
it sounds too much like work,
and doing all that heavy lifting
is the kind of thing I shirk.
When the deacons come to Synod
it should be lots of fun,
because maybe for the first time,
some real work will get done.
When Ryskamp was in Bangladesh,
he was sexy and creative.
While serving as an agronomist,
he decided he’d go native.
He wore a lungi in the rice fields,
which involved binding up his loins.
If WorldRenew showed us that picture,
not just kids would send in coins.
I’ve not been to Calvin Sem,
which means I’m somewhat duller,
I do not have a doctorate,
like Dr. Richard Muller.
I could fill the chair he sits in,
but things would slowly worsen,
I can’t teach reformed dogmatics,
since I’m just a big cat person.
I believe Len Vander Zee,
has helped us understand,
that the retiring Banner editor
was dealt an ugly hand.
It wasn’t that he made mistakes,
or even that he’s dense.
It’s that he’s finally reached the level
of his incompetence.
“Me and my shadow…”
is the song Joel Boot was singing.
He was working ’round the office,
while Timmermans was clinging.
I’m sad Joel had to deal with that,
we all know it’s annoying,
when you’re forced to deal with someone,
so clingy, close, and cloying.
Dr. Timmermans became a pastor,
not a real one, just commissioned.
So you’re good to preach in churches,
you’ve been vetted and positioned
By way of an exception,
you’re ordained in every classis,
so you’ll get no benefits anywhere,
when you preach on ‘half full glasses’.
I used to be a CFO,
I don’t mean to sound too brash,
but I could help out with accounting,
show us how to spend our cash,
we could send some down to Tucson,
we could send a tidy sum
’cause according to the Timmermans’ graph,
we finally actually have some.
I’ve been known as an Evangelist,
a Ministry Associate.
I became Commissioned Pastor,
please take note of that.
My job has always been the same,
but it must not be too vital,
since every time I need a raise,
I just get a brand new title.
Dee Recker said at roll call,
we should announce if we’re not here.
I might have missed just how that works,
I was playing Solitaire.
We’re not allowed to live stream,
or let Angry Birds entice us,
we have to pay attention,
and not plug in five devices.
I think that I could run a Synod,
not now, but maybe later,
’cause unlike Rev. Personaire
I’d not be a mean dictator.
Bruce likes to run a real tight ship,
like some power hungry hoarder.
Synod couldn’t just applaud with joy,
we had to clap in proper order.
There is one job I’d love to have
here in the CRC.
I could be the poet laureate,
but I just can’t work for free.
Unlike Rich Bodini
who’s grammar’s just a crime,
I can use words perfectly
and even make them rhyme.
In alphabetical order,
Steve Timmermans had us choose,
the Trolls, Defenders, Knights.
One would win and two would lose.
Steve was once a college president,
so you’d think that he would know
that t comes after d and k,
’cause that’s how the alphabet goes.
I did not attend a Reformed school,
where the mascots all seem scary.
Armor, claws and weaponry,
are not things that I would carry.
Grand Canyon University,
through which I matriculated,
are fondly known as Antelopes.
I admit we’re not really feared or hated.
I could be a college president,
it would be the perfect gig.
I’d have folks over to the house,
where I would roast a pig.
That’s what Dr. Hoekstra did,
and it surely was delicious,
but a very odd thing happened
that has me, well, suspicious…
I was going through the serving line,
behind the Calvin president.
that there is a bit of rivalry
soon became quite evident.
Just as we got up to the place,
where you’d finally go and eat,
the serving line ground to a stop,
’cause they were out of meat.
In Sioux Center they ran out of pig!
Sure, I understand.
This couldn’t be an accident,
I’m quite sure that it was planned.
‘Cause there are lots and lots of pigs here,
trust me, we can smell the scent.
So, yeah, we know you just ‘ran out’
In front of Calvin’s president.
Syllabic proliferating rhyme,
in iambic pentametric form,
sestinas, sonnets, villanelles,
written sitting in my dorm.
Delaney claims to use big words,
but he said he might say ain’t.
He said that we could say it, too,
but I’m sorry I just cain’t.
I’d hoped to see the cannons
right here at good old Dordt,
but apparently they’re missing,
I can’t even find a fort.
What will happen to our children,
will they even be attenders?
if there are no forms of unity,
how will they be defenders?
When I was just a little kid,
I thought I’d be a jockey.
I’d be riding for the Triple Crown,
but I’m kind of big and stocky.
As a guy who is Reformed,
who walks the straight and narrow,
I think it might be kind of fun
to try to crush a Pharoah.
If I’d been born in Canada,
I might not be so holy.
I might have learned to ice skate.
I might’ve been a goalie.
I’m confident I would stop the puck,
you could even make a bet.
You could wager a Tim Hortons,
that I’d ‘fill up the net’.
According to their website,
Sioux Center’s mighty proud,
to have an annual gathering
that packs in quite a crowd,
it’s called the Women’s Expo.
It’s just for girls, no guys allowed,
so they feature lots of vendors
of cooking and cleaning supplies.
I should have brought my wife along,
with some money she could spend.
I think I’d greatly benefit,
were she able to attend.
she could buy a vacuum, pots, and pans
and other stuff they’re pitchin’,
to help me do a better job
of working in my kitchen.
“Thank God for the lighthouse…”
was what Canadians were singing,
as we drove in on the bus,
but soon their hands were wringing.
They saw the empty building,
their greatest fears exposed,
for a big sign out in front read,
“The Lighthouse Bar is closed.”
Don’t worry, dear Canadians,
if you’re sad about your hockey,
someday you’ll hold Lord Stanley’s cup,
and someday I’ll be a jockey.
So if you’re feeling lonely,
it’s okay, just light a torch.
You can go and study Scripture,
just don’t step off the porch.
I’ve offended people to my left,
and also to my right,
not to mention my poor suite mate,
when I snore all through the night.
Dordt College put me in West Hall,
I don’t mean to be a fink,
but those accommodations,
are the reason that I stink.
Folks hate to sit beside me,
over breakfast, dinner, lunch,
’cause as the executive director notes
we’re a dour bunch.
The real reason is I cannot fit,
into that tiny shower,
I can only wash just half of me
and that’s what makes folks dour.
Thank you, Dordt Defenders,
You’ve done the college proud.
Thanks so much for serving us,
we’ve all been really wowed.
You’ve shown the love of Christ to us,
your love to us uplifts.
We thank you for your servant hearts,
you’ve given us good gifts.
Thank you, Joel, for leading us
throughout these past few years.
Please know you’ve been God’s gift to us,
your love and sacrifice is dear.
And thank you, Bob, for challenging.
Your writing made us think.
Your humor, love, and graciousness,
flowed through the Banner’s ink.
Thank you, Andy, for showing us
a godly deacon heart.
For all your selfless acts of love,
and the kindness you impart.
To Richard, we are also grateful.
Toward one goal you’ve all been pressing
May God’s rewards rain down on all you,
and to each of you, his blessing.