Christmas Gift of Grace

for Marilla K., whose FB status inspired me

Christmas Eve is here again
And Santa's hitched his sleigh
To bring the good little girls and boys
Their gifts for Christmas day.
Let's hope that they've most diligently
Earned the bearded man's favor
By being perfect, little angels
While on their best behavior.
To get the big man's presents
One must strive and one must do;
His gifts are not free of charge
Watch out! I'm warning you!

Christmas Eve is here again
And a baby's in the hay
To bring all the little girls and boys
A gift on Christmas day.
He's come as a symbol of the Father's love
And His unmerited favor
Even though we are not perfect
And we have sinful behavior.
To get this baby's present
One must only truly believe
In the gift that is free of charge
And Jesus' grace receive.

Christmas Day is here again;
Joy our Jesus brings.
But not only the reason for the season He is
But the reason for everything!

How Does Jesus Love You?

In the style of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnet 43"

How do I love thee? Let Me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Of all that is. You're never out of sight
Of My lasting Love and My endless Grace
I love thee and fully fill everyday's
Most quiet need; My Word shines as your Light.
I loved thee freely, sacrificed for Right;
I love thee purely, ask only for Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
Upon the cross. You must choose to have faith.
I love thee with My Life I seemed to lose
Until I rose—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all My Life!—and, if you choose,
I shall love thee in heaven after death.

"For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:38-39).

A Definition of True Awesomeness

True Awesomeness (ˈtrü ˈȯ-səm-nəs) n.
1. a state of Being
That only One possesses;
2. astounding in power
With no failure, only successes;
3. boundless in wisdom,
possessing all knowledge;
4. exalted over all,
true greatness acknowledged;
5. matchless in glory
and no counsel needing;
6. sovereign in authority,
no higher one heeding;
7. faithful to One's Word
no matter the cost
Even if that's taking
Another's cross;
8. dependable to the end
Never forsaking
Those that One loves,
No promise breaking;
9. an inspiration of awe
At the sound of One's name;
10. possessing the title:
Always the Same.
Related forms--Almighty, Most Holy God p.n

A Renewed Perception of Christmas

for Derek S., whose testimony inspired me

Especially during busy times:
Complaining,
Grinching,
Forgetting the meaning
Of this Christmas season.

Grumbling,
Muttering,
Rambling through the days,
Thinking I've got it so bad.
But is it really
About me?

And then I heard the Christmas story again...

Had I ever thought
About the busyness of traveling to Bethlehem?
About the difficulty of laboring in a stable?
About the conditions that Jesus was born into?
About Mary's pain?
Is my life really that bad?
Is it really
About me?

Had I ever thought
About the struggle of growing up as the Son of God on earth?
About how much energy it took to lovingly heal people daily?
About how much effort Jesus put into teaching His disciples?
About Jesus' tired body?
About the hurt He experienced while being "rejected by men"?
Is my life really that bad?
Is it really
About me?

Had I ever thought
About the sweat Jesus shed over dying on the cross for my sin?
About the agony He endured at the hands of others?
About the ridicule He endured without an unkind word?
About His pain?
About His crown of thorns?
About His humiliation?
Is my life really that bad?
Is it really
About me?

Had I ever stopped my busyness and just pondered
His incredible love,
His matchless grace,
His unending forgiveness,
His precious peace,
His blessed hope,
Or His holy name?

My life isn't that bad.
I have a reason to celebrate this Christmas season:
It is all about
Him.

He Does Not Totter

The Israelite man gave the workman a task,
An idol to carve and fashion.
He wanted an idol consistent
That he would worship with passion.
But he had one condition:
It must sit flat
Never tottering. For what
Would people think of that?

I gave that thing so precious
To me the highest place
But that thing was not the One
Who saved me by His grace.
I had one problem:
My idol was of my own making:
Always tottering, inconsistent.
And forever, always shaking.

But then I saw His glory
And realized I'd been mistaken.
For an idol could not be firm
And would be by everything shaken.
But I had one certainty:
When I my life arrange
So that God is highest within
He does not totter or change.

"To whom then will ye liken God? or what likeness will ye compare unto Him? The workman melts a graven image, and the goldsmith spreads it over with gold, and casts silver chains. He that is so impoverished that he has no oblation chooses a tree that will not rot;
he seeks unto him a cunning workman to prepare a graven image, that shall not totter... To whom then will ye liken me, or shall I be equal? saith the Holy One.
Lift up your eyes on high, and behold Who has created these things, that brings out their host by number: He calls them all by names by the greatness of His might, for that He is strong in power; not one fails." (Isaiah 40:18-20)

They Chopped Down a Tree...

We chopped down a tree
And decorated it with shiny metal
Ornaments.
And underneath it we placed
Gifts that would
Delight the hearts of the receivers.

They chopped down a tree
And decorated it with shiny metal
Nails.
And on it they placed
The Gift Who would
Delight the hearts of the receivers.

That Gift
Who would be as a Fruitful, Gracious
Abundance
In a broken, sinful world.

They chopped down a tree
Not knowing
Of the promise of God's restoration:
The Tree of Life
In a formally barren wilderness of thorns.
That Gift
Becoming the Hope of the world,
The Everlasting Promise
Of God's Love.

They chopped down a tree
And placed on it Jesus--
Emmanuel--
That Gift
Who would redeem our souls.


"So shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. For you shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree... and it shall be to the LORD for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off"
(Isaiah 55: 11-13).

Behold Your God!

The mountain stands
Next in God's plan
For my life.

I complain
And fill my heart with pain
And strife.

Mountain so large.
I take charge
With fear.

And then I cry,
"Why, God, why?
Why here?"

And in His glory He speaks with power,
"I am your Comfort and your Strong Tower.
But you will not see My majesty
While viewing the mountain's enormity.

Clear your head of all those lies;
Trust My Word, child; lift your eyes
To My face, My very Being
Not the mountain high that you are seeing.

See that river? That waterfall?
The waters of the earth? I hold them all
Without a flinch within my palm.
Behold your God! Be calm.

See the stars, the moon, the sun?
I know their number every one.
In My hand is the universe's span.
Behold your God! Trust My plan.

See that mountain you worry about?
Why do you fear? Why do you doubt?
I know how much that mountain weighs.
Behold your God! Yield your days

To My will.
Be still.
Cease your strife.

That mountain stands
Next in My plan
For your life.

But think of My power;
Do not cower
At what you see.

Take comfort; your mountain tall
Is incredibly small
In comparison to Me.

Behold your God!

“Behold your God! ... Who has measured the waters in the hollow of His hand and marked off the heavens with a span, enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?... Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength." (Isaiah 40: 9, 10, 12, 28, 29)

How the Profs Stole End-of-the-Semester-Joy...

In the style of the beloved Dr. Seuss

All the students liked End-of-the-Semester Joy a lot
But the profs who had lots to grade, did NOT!
The profs hated the semester's end--all the ungraded craze;
Don't ask me why--they assigned those essays!
It could be their heads weren't screwed on just right;
Either way, all the teachers were crazy that night.
And while all the profs were evilly typing
All of the students were feverishly hyping.
"And their playing on Facebook," the profs snarled with sneers.
"End-of-the-Semester Joy--it's practically here!"

And the more the profs thought about this "It's-Over Joy" fling,
The more that they thought, "We must stop this whole thing!"
Why, for fifty-three years they'd put up with this now!
They must stop Happiness from happening! But HOW?
And then they got an idea. An Awful Idea!
THE PROFS GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!
Yes, those profs were so smart and so slick
That they thought up finals and they thought them up quick!
So they took a paper and a pen that was red
And they put a big raincloud over their students' heads.
Then they sat back and chuckled; now they wouldn't be alone
When going through the last-days' groan.
For tomorrow, they knew, everyone in the college
Would be frantically praying for wisdom and knowledge.

The students would have the stressfulness, too;
Although I'm not sure those profs thought it all through.
'Cause no matter what they decide to do,
They'll always have to grade far into the night
The finals we take or the papers we write.
We will still finish first on this whole finals thing,
And because of this reason we can sing, sing, sing, sing!
Although finals stress us out for hours

And though the thought of diligence sours,
The very last laugh will always be ours!

Welcome, finals, while we stand
Heart to heart while trying to cram.
End-of-the-Semester Joy will always be
Just as long as we have we!

Before I Even Know

for Brandon E., whose FB status inspired me...

Before she even knew
She would eat the fruit and sin,
God knew of a plan to save us all
From her actions and the resulting Fall.
Redemption would win.

Before he even knew
He would lust for Bathsheba and fail,
God knew he'd send Solomon to the people;
He'd know wisdom and build the temple.
Integrity would prevail.

Before he even knew
He would run the other way,
God set the skies to show His power;
They were on course for the very hour.
Truth won that day.

Before he even knew
He would deny his Friend,
God knew he would have a story to share
And because of it for the gospel dare
Much. Fear would end.

Before I even know
The rebellious path I will chase,
He knows what He'll do to bring Himself glory,
Even through the weak moments of my story.
Though merit I lack,
He brings me back
Through incredible grace.

"But He knows the way that I take; when He has tried me, I shall come out as gold." (Job 23:10)

The Word of God

The Word of God

Thoughts of worry

Thoughts of fear

Thoughts of Satan

Or carnal peers

Thoughts of foolishness

Thoughts of lust

Thoughts of anger

Or gossip’s dust

Thoughts of bitterness

Thoughts in disguise

Thoughts of selfishness

Any lies

~~~

How does the title fit this dictation?

Look at this poem as an illustration

Of bad thoughts' subordination

To the Truth.

In the Tongue

An ugly word's a nasty thing
Not retractable once you've said it.
And such a word has left many a sting
And many a friendship beheaded.

Those unkind syllables thoughtlessly uttered
That leave behind their painful lies.
Those terrible thoughts carelessly muttered
The moment patience dies.

So easy to slip in your frustration
And let the bomb descend.
Gone are all forms of wise filtration.
How easily words can offend.

The tongue is said to have the power
To give others death or life.
To give hope or to hope devour,
Tear down or build up strife.

That I would learn to tame my tongue
And make my words like His.
A word in kindest manner sung
In season, how good it is!

"The tongue has the power of life and death..." Proverbs 18:21

"To make an apt answer is a joy to a man, and a word in season, how good it is!" Proverbs 15:33

To the God of Steadfast Love and Faithfulness...

To the God of steadfast love and faithfulness
I lift my soul in praise.
For Assurance of salvation,
That Blessed hope that stays
Within my heart since Christ
Has died; Death is overcome;
Everlasting life is mine!
Through Faith in God's own son
Grace is greater than any sin.
The Holy Spirit lives within.
The Word of God is Infallible
Jesus is the Truth for all men.
I can Know Him, call Him Abba.
His Love will always be the same.
Endless Mercy is always shown
To those who trust His holy Name.
I rest in His Omnipresence
And His Peace that passes understanding.
Quietness engulfs my heart,
Rest although life is demanding.
Security in His sweet promises
For He is Trustworthy in all.
My life shows His Undeniable Hand.
He gives me Victory when I call.
I have the freedom to publically Worship
And eXplain how Jesus set me free.
I have confidence that Yahweh is good.
And He is Zealous over me.

To the God of steadfast love and faithfulness,
I lift my soul and boldly sing,
Filling my heart with shouts of glory
And pure adoration and thanksgiving.

"To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul...For all the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness, to those who keep his covenant and his testimonies." (Psalm 25:10)

Butterfly House

for Denise Ray, who shared my pre-presentation anxiety...

Inside the butterfly house
A dim, worrisome silence
Screaming
With a giddy cry
For relief.

The butterflies' batting wings
Brush against each other
Roughly.
Begging to be let out
And know peace.

The walls that held them in
Feel their tension.
Pressure.
Causing the house to shake
With fears.

Words tumble out of the chimney
Of the haunted house.
Terror.
All the other houses in the neighborhood
Are watching.

And then the moment ends--
The butterflies rest,
Again.
The house settles down
To recover.

Inside the butterfly house
A bright, peaceful silence.
Singing.
The student's form relaxes--
Presentation complete.

In the Name of the Lord of Hosts

They jabbered fearfully about the hoots

Of Goliath. Shaking in their boots,

They didn’t care to lose their heads

That day I came to bring them bread.

It had been forty days without relief

Still I listened to their chatter in disbelief.

They focused on Goliath’s might

And not one man volunteered to fight.

I looked at them and said, “Wait, wait.

I think you’ve made a grave mistake.

It’s not your skills or your resources

Or the size of the Philistine’s giant or forces.

I will fight this Philistine

For my God will be with me.”

First I was unjustly charged

With pride, then given armor large

Enough for the Giant. I said, “No.

You don’t understand. It’s the God I know.

Not the armor of Saul or a shield or a sword

But the power of the Lord of Lords!”

I grabbed my sling and five smooth stones

And asked for help from God alone.

The giant laughed, thought he had won,

But I went in the name of the Mighty One.

As the giant fell so fell the scales

Off the Israelites' eyes. Their faith had failed

For their faith was found in the strength of man.

But now, they’d seen the Almighty’s hand.

They knew the truth: We only boast

In the powerful Name of the Lord of hosts.

"Then David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand... that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel..." (I Samuel 17: 45-46)

Myrrh

for Ariel and Rosie G., who first coined my nickname

Myrrh--
Bitter to the taste.
Hard brown stems
On small, scrubby bushes.
Not fit to give the King of Kings.

My heart--
Bitter with the flavor of sin.
Hard, cold, heavy.
Hypocrisy at its finest.
Not fit to give the King of Kings.

Myrrh--
Fragrant and Beautiful
When cut, broken, or crushed.
Perfect to be
That gift brought to Jesus.

My heart--
Fragrant and Beautiful
When cut, broken, or crushed
By conviction;
I brought it to Jesus.

He turned the bitterness
Into Joy
As I chose to forgive those who hurt me.
Songs flowed out as my heart
Shed Grace's fragrance.
Healing.
Peace.

Birthright of Grace

I rush around with perfectionist's fright
Am I doing everything right?
Not walking in the Gospel's light,
Forgetting Grace is my birthright.

That birthright makes me always able
To sit at His feet and eat at His table.
His love is true. His story no fable.
As His own child, I'm held fast and stable.

I can pray to Him--I am His own;
Jesus prays for me before the throne.
I can call God "Daddy;" by Christ, I am known.
I can run to His arms; I am never alone.

I can claim all the promises because of His power.
In every trial, He is my strong tower.
I'll always have victory for I am empowered
Moment by moment and hour by hour.

I'm completely free to live without shame
And to tear down the walls of guilt, fear, or blame.
I can laugh at the Devil for he cannot claim
Any authority; I have a new name.

I know I'm forgiven and I'm heaven-bound
And wait for the rapture's trumpet sound.
He has with loving-kindness crowned
Me as His child. Joy surrounds.

I rest in His freedom and trust His embrace.
I know that my past has all been erased.
I can climb in His lap and look up to His face;
And hear Him whisper, "Your birthright is Grace."


"But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus ..."
(Ephesians 2: 4-10)

Same, Same, Same, Same, Different

A life full of stripes--
Black, white, black, white--
Repetition of day and night.
Same, same, same, same.

She rambles through the mess
Of responsibility's stress.
Perfection rather than rest.
Same, same, same, same.

His head is in his hands
For He doesn't understand;
Where is truth in his life plan?
Same, same, same, same.


Same, Same, Same, Same--
This Truth we can claim
Because Faithful is His name.

Life full of the mundane
Hectic schedule, daily drain,
But because He is the Same
We must be without blame--
Different.

Running After Me

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty...For He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and buckler.... For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways...Because he holds fast to Me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows My name. When he calls to Me, I will answer him;   I will be with him in trouble;   I will rescue him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him and show him My salvation." (Ps. 91:1, 3-4,11,14-15)

So many times in my life, I realize that I am operating out of a works-based lifestyle--doing devotions vs. being in my Savior's presence.  Tonight I was reminded that I have a bad habit of taking even the things that are supposed to be part of the essence of grace and make them works.  Like resting.

Instead of simply resting in His presence, I make the whole resting idea out to be a process. If I can just find the rest, my actions say. I treat resting as if I'm hunting dry firewood in a forest that just underwent a hurricane. As if it were a nearly impossible task, I seek rest as if it were way out of reach and something I have to work at.

Psalm 91 is about God being our refuge. On the surface it is a beautiful depiction and an encouraging word for believers.  But digging deeper into the syntax of the sentences yields a freeing truth. (I know, this is where all my non-English major friends tune me out... but hang in there.=)  In grammar class, Dr. Stavick has been encouraging us to notice the use of pronouns both in comparison to the percentage of nouns and in analysis of the meaning of a text.  When I was reading through this, I particularly noticed how much focus was put on God and what He is doing.  Most of the chapter, we are the direct objects--the action is being performed upon us.  This is the opposite of my hunting for rest idea.  I am not the subject of most of these verses.  God is the subject, and He is performing the action.  He is delivering, protecting, covering, commanding, guarding, answering, rescuing, honoring, satisfying, and showing; all the difficult actions are His.  I am only dwelling, abiding, finding Him faithful, holding fast, knowing His name, and calling on Him.  None of the actions I am performing here require me to be running about.

All this time I've been running after refuge, Refuge has been running after me.

Living in the Red

Black and White
Dark and Light
Divisions.

The people of God splitting hairs
Over convictions.
The Redeemed Ones lacking care
For others.

Another way
All is gray
Abuse of liberty.

The people of God misusing grace
And forgetting
The Man of God's respected place
In their hearts.

None of these ways
Black, white, or gray
Are working.

The people of God are fighting;
No unity.
The Redeemed Ones should be lighting
The world.

What if, instead,
The color is red?
Christ blood.

The people of God alive in Him
Who bled
And redeemed them from sin
And said:

"Live like Me;
I am liberty
And I am restraint.
Liberty because you are under My blood
Restraint because your sin caused it.

You are not in black and white or gray;
You're in the red.
For though I paid your sin debt,
Even yet,
You're in debt to My grace.

You cannot Me repay
But you can
Walk in My way
Each day.

Forsaking black, white and gray,
Follow Me for you are
Living in the red.

I Got a B: For Best with Grace

The test came
And went.
I tried hard,
I studied much,
I worked diligently.

Only to get a B.

And I told myself
I was bad.
I should've done better.

The test came
And went.
She tried hard,
She studied much,
She worked diligently.

And got a B.

And I told her
It was okay.
She'd tried her best
And I was proud of her.

Today, I was thinking
About that test.
Frustrated with myself
And tearing myself down
For not doing better.

And then Light began to dawn.

Jesus told us to love our neighbor as ourselves
But maybe
We need to love ourselves as our neighbor.
Just maybe.

After all,
I cut her slack
Told her it was okay.
Why was I beating myself up?

Why was I holding myself to a high standard of performance
When all Jesus had for me was grace?

So I asked Him.
What is the truth:
The balance between
Striving for excellence
And striving for perfection?

And He said:
"The test came
And went.
You tried hard,
You studied much,
You worked diligently.

You got a B.
But it's not the end of the world.
I just want you to remember my grace
Remember
That my strength is made perfect in your weakness.

It is okay.
You tried your best
And I am proud of you."

I got a B: For Best with Grace.

Be Gentle on Yourself...

You carry a burden much too heavy
For your shoulders.
Doing.
Performing.
Be gentle on yourself.

You weren't created to find your worth
In what you DO.
You're YOU
The only one on this earth.

Perfection isn't to be found in a broken people.
Grace must run free
For me.
For you.

Cut yourself some slack and while you are
Remember that your adherence to a list of rules
Won't stand forever.
Since we live for eternity,
Why should something with no value in heaven
Define us in the here and now?

Store up treasure in heaven
Rather than the approval of men on this earth.
He is extending arms of mercy
And acceptance of the work you do for Him.

Rush around performing and fretting over your goodness?
At the end of your day
He'll say,
Be gentle on yourself.

Desire His smile;
Look only into Abba's face.
Seek truth but remember grace.
Be gentle on yourself.

Eyes/"I"s...

Windows into my soul's depth
You reveal my unloving heart.
You look
For bad
In others
How very
Selfishly
You act!
Why do you criticize everyone?
You put me to utter shame


As I realize the horrible truth:
You search for the bad so that
You can
Claim to
Be better.
Look at
Your own
Problems!
They are numerous. Remember:
The humble man is the wise one.


Stop thinking about making "I" great
Stop always labeling yourself perfect
And search
Your heart.
Maybe there
Are some
Things you
Can learn.
Suddenly,
I see for the first time my own desperate
Need, and I stop to pray for humble eyes.



"Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye." (Matthew 7:3-5)

Prowling Perfectionism

Perfect
Black and white
Wrong and right
Always higher
Expectations

People practicing
Pretentious performance--
Constant criticism,
Demobilizing discouragement,
Rigid rules.

Does God really love the righteous more?

Ponder
The Words of the God of Grace:
"My strength
Is made perfect
In weakness,
Your weakness."

So think again.

Could brokenness be the key to holiness?
Could our mistakes be the way He shows His beautiful Love?
Could our ugly things be how He shows His glory?
Could His grace be that which makes the imperfect holy?

Consider:
He is perfect;
We are in Him.
Why should we then strive?

Goose!

Fifteen
Playful children
Throw balls
Pick teams
Or rather...
Fourteen

All
Enjoying the fun
Except the one
Little girl.

They skip over her
'Till she's the last to pick to play
Never throwing the ball her way.

Her eyes, deep and brown
Seek the ground.

A new game is introduced:
Duck, Duck, Duck, Goose.

She sits in the circle
Chosen by no one
At all.
I sit down with them;
They are excited that I want to play.
I smile at the Sad One.

Goose! I hear above my head
Before I move the child has fled
And I am on the run.
I no longer sit--
I'm it.

I touch each wondering one
Who in suspense
Is ready to run.
Her head is drooping
Not expecting anyone to choose her.

I pass around the circle
Enjoying the look of mystery in their eyes
Until they sigh
With impatience.

I laugh.
Then with one gleeful chant
I see those brown eyes dance
As at my "goose"
She jumps up
In joy.

She even catches me
And I'm glad to sit "in the pot"
Midst the giggles
Just for that look in her eyes,
That smile that shows her missing teeth.

Sitting there
Watching her delight as she calls out "duck,"
I'm rather awe-struck.
I'm a "goose"
Chosen by God
When I felt all alone.
His love picked me out
And made me His own.

And His love
Never fails.

"These things have I spoken unto you...that your joy might be full...I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you. You did not choose Me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you." (John 15:11, 15b, 16)

Autumn Shadows

Shadows dance
And the wind whispers the scent
Of fall.
Autumn raises its head
From its Summer Slumber
As lonely
Leaves
000fall
0000from
000000Coloring Trees.
They gather on the ground
Together
With the changing shadows.
Shadows of the leaves above,
Shadows of their fallen comrades,
Reflecting praise
While dancing in willing
Worship
Of their Creator.

Penguins' Perspective

Black splotches against
Cold whiteness.
Like Oreos in vanilla icecream.
Swirling around in the
Bleakness.
Gathering together against
The wind's chill.
Zooming in, one notices
The individuality
Versus the crowd
Of parents shielding their young.
A humorous sight--
Parents laboring
In fancy tuxedos.
What do they wish to instill in their young?
Black and white,
No gray, no color is present,
Strict.
Together they march
In one huddle--
An army of Distinction
With one purpose:
Surviving.
The rules of survival are
Definite.
Nothing can be left
Undone.
Death clenches from birth
And devours
In the moment of
Carelessness.
They look at their world of black and white
As perfection.
Not knowing of the rainbows
Beyond their icy world.
Frozen but families
Cold but caring
Seeking the right ways
To live.
So they continue
Huddling for heat,
Life on the snow
Under the world.

Mirror on the Wall

for Maura L., that you might remember that you're beautiful...

Mirror on the Wall,
Reflection of my face,
You speak the truth
Yet lie to me
Simultaneously.

Like a ruler
You show me
That I don't measure up.
Like a detective
You uncover my faults.
Why show me
Truth
Like pimples and dark circles?
Why not lie
In moments
Such as these?

Mirror on the wall,
You're a liar.
You tell me
I'm ugly
Because I don't look like
A super-model.

Let me tell you
Something:
I don't believe you.
You're a coward--
Going with the flow of
Modern culture.

Mirror on the wall,
How dare you?
Woman in the reflection,
What will you
Believe?

Perceive past the pimples
To the smile.
Delve deeper than dark circles;
See the eyes.

Eyes that show the
Joy
Of a compassionate heart.

The beauty that the
Mirror on the Wall
Overlooked.

Conviction Concerning Compassion

Sadness hid behind her eyes
Filled with struggle, poverty, lies,
Around her--roaches, mildew, mold;
This filth had taken its steady toil.
Her face for His Hope cried.

I asked her, "Are your parents here?"
She closed her eyes; they filled with tears.
"I've never met my dad before;
Mom left me with my aunt at four.
She's been gone for three years."

Her frame shook with fear and shame
She turned away to hide her pain.
I wanted to hug her though it wouldn't do much
But she pulled away at my finger's touch
Of her shoulders -- too young for such strain.

I strongly longed to fix her mess.
I could only say, "Come to VBS?"
She took the page and held it tight.
Then suddenly, I saw it -- a flicker of light
Inside her gaze of loneliness.

She spoke with surprise, "You want me to come?
I've never been invited by anyone."
I looked at her face and felt my tears rising
Her path of life and pain realizing
And a part of me tried to run.

So often we run from the truth of their days
Thinking that somehow, it'll just go away.
We've heard that it happens, we know that it's there,
But we get so caught up with me and my care
That their unreached condition stays.

I looked at her squarely to share with her truth
And said to her, "Yes. Yes! We want to have YOU!
I love you and Jesus loves you, you know"
Her aunt was calling and she'd have to go
But she flashed me a grin and I knew

I wouldn't be running anymore from their pain
For now that I'd seen it I wasn't the same.
I know the compassion that God wants in me
That shows broken people they can be free
Through the power of Jesus' name.

A Smile!

for the Snow family

Heartache,
Confusion,
Stress.

Struggle,
Hardship
Weariness.

Day to day
To day again.
At times it seems
Without an end.
Where is our God?


But then!

A smile!

Yet not one smile
But more.

Nathaniel smiles
The family does, too.
Could times be changing
Could Hope be true?

Yet not these only
Smile
But more
The best of all:
Our Lord.

He smiles
And sings over them.
"Sometimes I have to work within."

"Just because you do not see
My work, still trust in Me.

The outer will come
Soon
In perfect time after the in.
No matter what, I always complete
Each and every work I begin."


Nathaniel smiles
His Healer, too.

All is well.

Struggling

She does the right things
Or at least, she tries.
But it's never
Good enough.
She gives up trying
And does the wrong things.

She knows that is not
The right attitude,
But she's yearning for acceptance
Just as she is.
Why try
If nothing can satisfy
Others?

Why can she never make the mark?
She feels so empty.
Where is her purpose?
Where is her God?

Yearning

She does those things with which we don’t agree.
Our criticism stares
Our judgment kills.
Can we not see?

She’s yearning
For love
For Him
But we never embrace her.

How will she find True Love if she cannot
Hear the Savoir
Over the clamor of our condemnation?

She’s yearning
For Hope
For Him
But we pass her by.

How will she find His Hope if she cannot
Feel His fullness
Over the continuance of our complaining?

She’s yearning
For Peace
For Him
But we whisper over her weaknesses.

How will she find His rest if she cannot
Sense His serenity
Over the hurricane of our hypocrisy?

She’s yearning
For Truth
For Him
But we turn her away.

How will she find His reality if she cannot
Perceive His presence
Over the jabbering of our jargon?

She does those things with which we don’t agree.
But she’s seeking shelter, love, eternity.
His body suffered all so she could be
Clean.

But Body of Christ
We fail Him
By doing all those things His body would not.

She’s yearning.
Can we not see?

Singing

Singing
for Elya Snow
Based on Zephaniah 3:17

Frightened,
She stands
Where the rubber meets the road,
Where the waiting greets the incident,
Where her wings test the sky.

What does the future hold?

If only things were
Like they once were!

But
Then what of the perfect plans
That have strengthened her faith
In her Infinite God?

What of the answered prayers
That have proven
A testimony to the lost ones she’s spoken with?

What of the testimony
That will one day testify
Of His wonderful love?

Her head knows these things are true,
And yet,
She still stands
Waiting,
Frightened,
Worried.
Scared of the leap of faith that must come
Soon.

The moment presents itself
And she takes the leap,
Praying
For help,
For peace.

“Help me mount up,”
Her heart cries,
“With wings like eagles.
Help me be strong!”

And yet,
She is falling.
Why are her wings not enough?
Why is her God not giving her strength?

“Listen closer.”
“Listen closer.”
He prompts her fearful heart.
And then she hears it—
Singing.

She smiles and rises
Upon the morning’s dawn.
Listening
To the singing—
The precious singing of her Savior
Especially for her.

Now she soars,
Into whatever lies ahead,
Mounting up with wings as an eagle.
Safe,
Held,
Quieted
By His loving songs:

“Let Me sing over you
My daughter, My girl.
Be still.
Let Me draw you
Into My arms.
Rest in My peace
For it will
Never
Pass away.
I rejoice over you
And long
To quiet your fearful heart.
I will be Faithful
Always.
My will forever seeks your good.

Let Me sing over you
My daughter, My girl.
I love you!”

Distracted Bride

Distracted Bride
for Heidi Schlender


People gather
To see the sight.
They wait
For her—
The girl in white.

But none
Waits more
Than he.

The groom is
Grinning wide
As he waits for her eyes
To lock into his.

But the girl in the back
Is distracted
As the usher’s open the doors.

She sees the people,
The flowers,
The runner on the floor.

She sees the petals that fell
Misplaced
Onto the carpet.

She sees her friends
And calls out,
“How’s it goin’?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to hang out, ‘kay?”

The Groom’s smile wanes,
He waits in vain
For her to look his way,
For her to remember to spend time
With Him—
Her best friend.

She stops abruptly
Halfway down
The aisle
And turns around.

And she goes backward
Wondering.

Why does she feel empty?
What of the love she was in?

***

The Groom stands
At the throne of heaven
He waits
For her—
The Church, His Bride.

The groom is
Grinning wide
As He waits for her eyes
To lock into His.

But she sees people’s faults
Praise’s glory
The rocks upon her path.

She sees the opportunities that fell
Misplaced;
They are so important to her
That she fails to look ahead.

She sees her earthly friends
And calls out,
“How’s it goin’?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to hang out, ‘kay?”

The Groom’s smile wanes,
He waits in vain
For her to look His way.
To take time to want to hang out
With Him.

Something happens.
She stops abruptly
Halfway down
The aisle of life
And turns around.

And she goes slowly backward
Wondering.

Why does she feel empty?
What of the love she was in?

***

The bride in the church looks
Past the colorful sea of people
Past all in her pathway.
To His face
His eyes
His smile.

No distractions seem to bother her
As long as her eyes are his,
As long as he is there.
Waiting
Saying everything in that stare
Of love.

And she knows
He is what is important as she walks the aisle.
He is the joy that makes her full.

This is His Story

The Author picks up the pen
And pauses.
Must He write the horrible words
Of pain?
Of suffering?

Must He chronicle the tears,
The broken road?
Must He foreshadow
The shadows of death?

Must He pen cries
Of fear
And want?
Must He chant
Mournful songs
Through the mouths of His characters?

The Author picks up His pen
And begins.
Yes,
He writes the painful stories.
The parts of the work that some might consider
Bad.

But He pens the story
In His beautiful script,
Knowingly.

He smiles.
He's aware

That without the bad
The story’s for naught.
How can the reader sense
Dramatic need
If all is well?

The Author picks up His pen
And writes.
Stories both good and bad.
For the story is
All
About contrast.

For how can good
Be good
Without bad?

The Author picks up His pen
And smiles.
His characters relax.

He may put them through times of sorrow
Of disappointment,
Of grief.
But He is still
The Author of their incredible story.
Blending joy and peace
Into a perfect plot.

A plot
Where both good and bad
Fade into good
Because of His loving touch.

The Author picks up His pen
With authority.
This is His story
All is well.

He Covers Me

He Covers Me

The battle's on
The bullets fly.
I hear the wounded's
Desperate cry.
I trust.
I pray.
I know.
I see.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

He aims, so sure,
At Pain and Fear.
Only lets them shoot
To drive me near.
I run
Toward Him.
I hide.
I flee.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

Though some may wound me,
Close beside,
Yes, even in me
He abides!
I heal.
I seek
His face,
His peace.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

I cannot help but joy
For He
From my pain
Sets me free!
I sing.
I rest.
I simply
BE.
Jesus Christ,
He covers me.

Covered With Your Hand

The little one runs, cries,
“Why must life be so hard? Why?
Daddy, help me! Daddy! Daddy!
The World is hurting me, again; won’t you get onto Him?
He only laughs when I cry, only mocks me. Daddy, why?
Daddy, hug me! Help me! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!
He thinks it’s wonderful when I fear; He tells me that You are not here.
He hopes he can make me believe that You will soon pick up and leave.
Daddy, hold me! Hug me! Help me! Daddy! Daddy!
He paints the future dark, and shouts, “Your Dad will break your heart.”
He bids me worry, never trust, for then my dreams might turn to dust.
Daddy, hear me! Hold me! Hug me! Help me! Daddy!”
But then you speak, I know I am
Covered With Your Hand:
Heard, hugged,
Held, helped,
Safe.



*** This poem was originally created in the shape of a hand, but the formatting would not remain once transferred to the blog.