Read This: Luke ch 19 v 1-10.
‘Zak’, also known as Zacheus– chief tax collector, a.k.a fat cat/extortionist, collaborator with the army of occupation, a.k.a The Roman Empire. He is hated and despised by everyone.
‘Josh’, a.k.a Jeshua a.k.a Jesus– the long expected Chosen One; the ‘hero/wonder worker’ who the people think will free their nation and make them a super power again.
Zak’s a max man.
He’s the number one taxman,
He collects it in sacks, man.
Definition of slime,
His position, it’s fine;
Cuts nobody no slack, man;
Rich or poor, at no time.
The money, he stacks it man.
Zak’s just a crook.
You don’t give him a long look
Or your name’s in the wrong book.
He’ll be squeezin’ you dry.
There’s ev’ry reason to try
To get off of his long hook,
Or he’d get you on the sly,
No matter how long it took.
Yeah, Zak is a maximum taxin’ ‘em man
You don’t cross him you don’t boss him
Or you straight in the can.
Zak’s a small man,
Actin’ like he’s a tall man.
But he’s not got it all, man.
Don’t know what’s on his mind,
Won’t know what he might find,
When the town gets a call, man
From the man of our time.
Can it be him? Sure it can
Don’t know the score?
Don’t know who they all shout for?
You better get out more!
He’s the news of the hour,
When he uses his power.
You should hear what they outpour,
Short and tall, sweet or sour,
It’s Josh they’re all out there for.
He who’s to come.
Who will give ‘em their freedom.
Right now is the season.
He’ll support his own kind.
He’s their sort; got their mind.
Decent folk—stands to reason;
Honest, poor, solid, fine.
He’s their man, he’ll see it done.
Josh is the Chosen One only One Son
He’s from time outa time
Before timin’ begun.
Zak’s in the crowd!
There’s no need to say out loud,
‘You’re so in the out crowd.’
Get in front of old Zak
So he’s the runt at the back,
With height so poorly endowed;
‘You should take a new tack.’
In his head, ringing out so loud.
Can’t get a view;
Climbs a tree, yeah well that’s new!
Looks a fool—cool with that, too.
(When your PIN’s Mr Big, see,
You don’t shin up a fig tree.)
But he’s not turning back, you
Can sense, he can see
It’s what he just had to do.
Josh points him out.
Surely not, but there’s no doubt;
Shouts out to that old lout!
‘Wipe the frown from your face
And, like come down from that place.
All the rooms will be sold out.
Your house is my base.’
The crowd thinks, ‘he’s sold us out!’
‘Josh—in with me?’
Zak can’t see how can this be.
Thinks, ‘Josh—he should diss me!
He’s the hero, he can’t fail.
I’m a zero on that scale.
Yet he’s barkin’ up this tree,
Though my soul was for sale;
Makin’ friends—it’s a mystery!’
Zak comes on down.
Now he’s treading on true ground.
He’s hearing a new sound.
When The Chosen One, really
Says, ‘I’m choosin’ you freely.’
Then the shock goes all through town.
(They hearin’ it clearly?)
But it starts turning you around.
It’s a given, you’re forgiven though he knows you’re a clown
Now that he’s spelt it out
You’ve melted right down.
Zak lets ‘em know,
He was rich, now he’s more so;
He could let it all go.
He’ll give away half of it;
A giveaway heart for it.
What’s stole; he’ll pay four-fold.
He wants no more part of it.
His heart’s got a warmer glow.
Blow to their pride;
‘We don’t want him on this side.’
Josh came down on his side.
‘True son of my nation,
He’s come by salvation.’
But Josh is like wrist-tied,
That stand they’ve all taken.
He wants ‘em to ditch their pride.’
‘If you think you’re somebody, you’re nobody for me
‘Cus I’m takin’ scum ‘n’ makin’ sump’n
Outa them see.’
 

It’s too simple, any fool can understand.
It’s only meant for fools – who realise
That it’s to stop, see and take the stand
Of a fool’s what starts the walk of the wise.
It’s too deep, too off-the-wall for any mind
To completely grasp the how and why –
The central tangle I need to unwind.
I require my intellect be satisfied.
You require. So, you’re the centre of all things?
You don’t yet know what satisfaction means.
A mechanism? – This thing begins
Beyond your mind, your heart, your soul, beyond your dreams.
But there again, enough has been revealed
To separate the answer from the lies.
The answer only lies concealed
By self defence, self delusion, compromise.
It’s a gift – the proverbial free meal?
No bill to pay? Yeah – who is kidding who?
Must be some catch, must be some hidden deal.
If it’s too good, it’s too good to be true.
All I hear is, “Pull the other leg”.
Your cynicism’s eaten you inside.
You’ll kill the Goose that lays the Golden Egg.
To take a gift, you drop your stubborn pride.
It costs too much, there’s things I can’t give up.
I’ve got to look at what I’ve got to lose.
Hold on to all this passing stuff
And lose your very self? Go on, you choose.
It’s boring, it’s uncool. It isn’t very funny.
You’ve swallowed fizzy water, spat out wine.
You’ve been conned. Forsaking honey
For the sake of a laugh, you’ve guzzled slime.
In a sense it seems so clear
And then hard to understand,
On the one hand seems too dear –
Too cheap on the other hand.
Plain history, raw fact
With all the frills cut clean away.
Were you hoping for more tact,
A more reasonable way?
It stands, an anchor and a rock
From which your anger, scor n, your shock
And your excuses all in vain
Run off like spatterings of rain.
It’s just The Truth, immense and free.
The command is, “Taste and see!”
It will kill you and then will give you life.

Inspired by the exposed, volcanic coast of western Lanzarote, at La Santa, where CVM holds its annual sports outreach week every March.
Read 2 Peter 3 v 8.
But do not forget this one thing, dear friends. With the Lord a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day
Recite this out loud:
Whipped up by hurricanes, horizon-wide,
Reined in from a quarter million miles
By The Moon in her gravitation grip,
They’re seething through their night-long thunder ride
Until their reins are loosed and all’s let rip
On the rumbling, raging, roaring morning tide.
In charging ranks of teetering waterfalls,
Jade, grey-green and sapphire water walls,
From rain cloud shadow or a blue sky lick,
Racing on through sun and head-on squalls,
Trailing exhaust plumes of rainbow slick,
Their age-long-ranging wave song, “Praise the Lord”.
Sweeping on, majestic, to a line
Where red-hot streams had stopped and formed a rind
Of wicked, brooding, matt-black, lava rock,
Frozen at the place and since the time
When, halted by the waves’ explosive shock,
It turned to tortured shapes of wild design.
Ten thousand years ago, the line was made
And ever since, the daily battle’s raged
As each wave’s every rippling liquid ounce
Rears up, a water-muscled monster, caged
Until from its one, suicidal pounce
The cynic rocks with white, wave blood are sprayed.
The powers of darkness, against The Lord of all,
Another battle raging since the fall
Of angels and of humankind from good.
But victory cannot now be forestalled.
His Kingdom’s seed is sown as martyrs’ blood,
His mills grind slowly, but grind exceeding small.
As long as there’s The Moon and Earth still spins,
Tides will flow and waves, ride on the winds
For ages upon ages, bit by bit
Revealing in their battle which side wins,
As rock is pebble-pounded down to grit,
Two battles sealed, as soon as war begins.

Read Matthew Ch. 2 v 16-18.
Narrator.
A rival to the throne
Somewhere unseen,
Unknown.
This would mean
All little boys must die
Who had been
That same night
Of visitation,
Under the flame-bright
Night sky
Of that star’s illumination;
Strange light
To identify
The World’s light
And those who’s plight
Became a dark abomination.
What’s a score
Of babes, or more?
Small thing
For a king
From hell to face,
A simple case
Of damage limitation.
It was just a few
And rather little
Boys that died,
A mere mini-genocide.
But guided by another dream,
It would seem,
The star King
Had by then gone,
With father Joe
And mother Mary
Already become one
More refugee family.
So in fact
The killing proved unnecessary.
But, fooled and ignored!
As king from hell.
No lesser thing
Could so bring
Fear-blown pride
From its hide
And make it ring
The death knell
From a sword.
Yet a different sound
Was really made
As the blades
Cut each round
Angelic head
From trunk and limbs;
Just sounds of splashing
As they bled.
No note from steel was rung,
The only note heard sung’s
A mother’s scream
As over roofs it skims.
In this history
This mystery
This partly gory story,
Of joy and dreams,
Of lies and schemes,
Of fools and wise
And starry skies,
There’s one thing more,
Deep and terrible,
That even wise men
Back then
Never saw.
Before this Truth,
Despite all schools
Of all wisdom’s worldly rules,
All wise become as fools;
That by this birth
The king of life,
He came to Earth,
To hell on Earth,
To bring a life
That’s otherwise unknown to you and I.
But to bring this life,
An innocent must die.

Read Matthew ch 2 v 2-12.
Voice of a Wise Man.
The mystery King would be King of the Jews.
We knew that the star was his star.
Who would know of this thing?
When we met with their king,
He wasn’t our king,
Wasn’t the star king.
He hadn’t heard the good news.
We told of our quest, with hearts on fire,
To find the star King,
Be near him, revere him.
That was our only desire.
Their king asked the priests, to define
What was this thing?
What was the place, and the time
Of his coming?
The one they expected, some day.
The one who connected, some way,
The bits of their myst’ry,
Down through their hist’ry.
Appointed, by their God,
Anointed, for the job.
He was called the Messiah.
But their king was a liar.
He sent us word.
“Meet me, secretly.”So we
Met him where
He said there,
Too soft to be
Overheard.
“When you find this King
Be so kind as to bring
Me news.
Please send it to me
And I’ll bend, the knee,
As well,
In humble adoration.”
But he would not bend,
That king from hell,
His mind already bent,
(On assassination.)
We said, “Sir, you are too kind.”
And so we left.
The star led on.
What had we gone
To find?
Then there he was,
Just some kid.
Our jaws dropped.
How did we know?
Nothing to show.
Nobody face,
In a nowhere place.
Our eyes popped.
A displaced, family
Who could see?
Who could care,
Less, I guess?
A village shed,
But that’s where
The star led.
And stopped.
Just some boy, but still
Our hearts start
With joy to fill.
Our gifts seemed
Out of place
In that place.
But we deemed
Him, star King,
Our King,
Beginning and end
Of our quest, all quests.
We were his guests
We had to bend
And pay respects.
Narrator.
Could they see
Then, what it meant?
What we see now is,
Prophecy;
Not their intent
But His.
Gold, incense, myrrh,
Three things, offerings;
Each brings
With it, heard,
One great word:
A King
Who’s God
Whom we, interr.
There are kings who control through men and machines.
There are kings who command through military means.
There are kings who govern through systems and schemes.
But this one had power over dreams.
He sent a dream
While deep
In our sleep
To keep
Underlined
In our mind
That words are cheap
And kings not
What they seem.
We could not bring
Our news
To their king
Of Jews,
Could not tell
Him from hell
Or he would quickly use
It, and filled
With hate,
Would wait
Till we had gone
And have the star King killed.
He would not bend.
We travelled on
By paths unknown
To friend
Or enemy, secretly
To our home.
A feeling they couldn’t miss,
Came into their hearts they were sure.
That down through all hist’ry
There’s no greater myst’ry
Than this:–
The star King,
Was something,
More than anything
Else, and still he was more.
The star King,
Was something,
More than anything
Else. Yet he chose to be poor.
He chose to be poor.

Read Numbers ch. 24 v17.
Matthew ch. 2 v 1.
Narrator
Seeking the Truth
In a world full of lies
In a world full of fools
They called them wise.
They studied the writings
The stars and the sightings
But never quite knew the score
Till it- entered their minds,
By signals and signs.
No thing of its kind
Had they ever known, before.
Voice of a Wise Man
It filled us.
And thrilled us.
The hope nearly killed us.
It led us
And fed us
With feelings of dread as
We realised that we were sure,
That this thing,
Was something,
More than anything
Else, and still it was more.
And it, in its kindness
Looked down from its fineness
And started to show us some more.
And that’s when it was that we saw,
It wasn’t a thing, but a King
That filled us with awe.
Those like us, seers and sages
Looked for the King, down through the ages,
Blind at first, seeing in stages.
Was there a message, hidden in pages
Of all history?
They started to answer unanswered questions.
Noticed the hints and the suggestions,
Fit into place, section by section,
They feel He revealed concealed connections
Of the mystery.
There are kings with cities,
Glittering pretty,
Kings with nations
In adoration,
Empr’ors with empire,
Intact and entire.
But this one—had his own star.
Down through all hist’ry
They’d followed the myst’ry.
However hard, how far.
They had to follow the star.
They hired guards—charted courses.
Saddled up—camels, horses.
Took on water—hired porters.
Goodbye sons—goodbye daughters
Goodbye wives—goodbye friends.
Chase a star to world’s end.
Chase a star to world’s end.
With streaming banners,
Flying crests,
Camels, stallions
With golden medallions,
And sovereign gifts in treasure chests,
Like desert galleons
Sailing west,
Past jackal’s lair
And snakes’ nest,
Star-bitten;
Rock and ruin and desolation,
Star- smitten;
Landscape without limitation,
Star-stricken,
Till they reached the Hebrew nation;
They took their quest.

“I can’t tolerate intolerance.”

Read this out loud:
You got ‘morality’
I got plurality.
If something’s right for me
I guess I might agree.
Like, if it’s for your view, or not.
Like, is it false or true, so what?
Stuff debate–
Tolerate.
‘Cause that is what is the
Most valued quality.
We know that we got free
From all your bigotry.
So, you say you don’t hate.
You say you tolerate;
Say you ‘value’ my view
And hey that’s cool with you.
But if I say my view’s—get this!
The only way that’s true—big hiss!
That’s not cool
Breaks your rule.
That’s your forbidden stance
That’s your intolerance.
‘Cause, hi! I’m in your face,
That’s why I’m in disgrace. 
I say I’m free to be
Whatever seems to me
To be OK to me.
There is no way that we
Would ever, ever be—slaves
Could never, never be—have
To conform
To your norm.
I’m never gonna be
One of your wannabees.
No I don’t rate your name
So I won’t play your game.
Your freedom seems to be
Just in your dreams to me.
It’s just some fantasy.
Come on you have to see
We’re all hard-wired to be—slaves.
Don’t need to try to be—have
As slave to
What or who
Get’s us to feel inspired
Or feeds our deep desire,
All neatly wrapped inside
Our fear, trapped anger, pride. 
That’s layin’ things on thick!
Some things they make me tick.
Some things I pick and choose
(Don’t think there’s much to lose).
Some things, they say ‘I’m me.’
They’re the things that drive me.
There’s no danger
From no stranger.
No-one else at large,
‘Cause I’ve put me in charge.
My drives won’t give me heat.
I’m in the driver’s seat.
So go and serve them well,
Go build a personal hell.
Be king in there, alone.
A king on his own throne,
A child, that’s of our age.
Beguiled, at center stage.
Locked inside
Your own pride.
What is your only choice?
It is—who’ll own the voice?
The one you will obey;
The one who’ll hold your sway.
Suppose I see I’m made
Always to be enslaved.
OK, if serve I must,
Then say whose worth my trust.
Who could my master be, now?
Keep me disaster free—how?
No one cares
Like me, there’s
No-one else I see
Who can love me like me.
I’m not just as a rule
Sucked in just like a fool.
There’s one who’ll stand with you
Who cares more than you do.
To serve him’s why you’re  made.
A price for you’s been paid.
It cost an infinite, cost,
Cost him his life, lost.
Fools are wise
In their eyes.
So think, do you despise
What is the truth for lies?
And might you only be
Free in his slavery?