To The Cascades

When my soul's song is sighs,
Weary wells drain my eyes,
And disappointment dies to despair,
Still I know I can fall
At the feet of Him Who fills all
And receive His intentional care.

So run away, oh my soul, to the cascades!
Let the waters wash over your fear.
Limping soul make your choice
Hear the echos of His voice
In the rushing waters; know He is here.
Hide away, oh my soul, in the Goodness
Of the Spring that will never run dry.
Though parched and drained, enter rest.
Soak in peaceful hope expressed
Through the waterfalls, and be satisfied.

When my heart hates and halts,
And I salve my sores with salt,
And isolation drives me to doubt,
Still I know I can fling
My whole being on the One Who sings
A deliverance song, a victory shout

So run away, oh my soul, to the cascades!
Let the waters wash over your fear.
Limping soul make your choice
Hear the echos of His voice
In the rushing waters; know He is here.
Hide away, oh my soul, in the Goodness
Of the Spring that will never run dry.
Though parched and drained, enter rest.
Soak in peaceful hope expressed
Through the waterfalls, and be satisfied.

Nets Equipped

Before reading this poem, take in all the fullness of this verse: 

"Now may the God of peace, Who brought up from the dead our Lord Jesus-the great Shepherd of the sheep--with the blood of the everlasting covenant, equip you with all that is good to do His will, working in us what is pleasing in His sight through Jesus Christ. 

Glory belongs to Him forever and ever. Amen.  (Hebrews 13:20-21)

And note this definition: 

Equip: Greek, Katartízō: "to refit, repair, mend that which is broken such as the nets (Matt 4:21; Mark 1:19). Metaphorically of a person in error, to restore, set right (Gal 6:1)... meaning to make a perfect fit, suitable, such as one should be, deficient in no part. Of persons (Luke 6:40; I Cor 1:10; II Cor 13:11; Heb 13:21; I Pet 5:10). ¹

And finally, enjoy this quote that together with the verses and definition above inspired this poem: 

"God mends our pasts to tend to our futures. Every time we've been broken and then allowed God to repair us, that meaning becomes part of our equipping. All the pain we've endured. All the abuse and misuse. Every betrayal. Every wound. Where God mends, He equips...Don't you see it? If we still have life and breath, God can re-purpose every shred of havoc the Devil wreaks." ²

 

Nets Equipped

I had a few nets for various uses,
But over the years, they raveled and tore.
Heart break, mistakes, troubles, abuses.
With holes--why then fish? Thus confined to the shore,
I still wanted for more.
I'd cleaned out the bait shop; what else could I do?
Exhausted resources--I'd bought every thread.
I was out of commission--yet under review.
Nothing but failure looming ahead.
My heart filled with dread.
This was my profession, my sole form of living;
Without it--no purpose or feeling worthwhile.
But then I met Him--a kind man so giving.
He looked at me fondly and said with a smile,
"Hand them here, child."
With gentle hands the faulty nets tending,
He gave an offer to repair them to me.
And though I still felt they were much beyond mending,
I nodded a yes and said, "If you please."
He worked faithfully.
The material He used though seemed rather creative,
Especially on holes seemingly beyond repairing.
His methods--so seamless, so interrelated. 
So different and beautiful, I found myself staring.
Then He spoke to me, sharing:
"I repaired this with silver to meet someone's needs
And this one with flowers for planting of seeds.
I repaired this with Kleenex® to dry someone's tears
And this one with wavelengths to give you listening ears.
I repaired this with silly string to bring someone laughter
And this one with lumber--help rebuild from disaster.
I repaired this with heart strings to give you compassion
And this one with linen that you're clothed in strength's fashion.
I repaired this with diapers for the next generation
And this one with plane tickets to reach every nation.
I repaired this with darkness so the light is comparable
And this one with nothing for the impossible is repairable."
I have a few nets for various uses.
They all have their patches, an occasional rip.
But each net Christ mends. Opportunity produces
So that every single morning I will launch my ship.
My nets are equipped.

¹ Spiros Zodhiates, The Complete Word Study Dictionary: New Testament (Iowa Falls, IA: World Bible Publishers Inc.,1992).

   ²  Beth Moore, Children of the Day: I and II Thessalonians (Nashville, TN: Lifeway Press, 2014).

I Drank My Coffee Black: Lessons from the Portland Journey

I'm writing from Blue Kangaroo, a coffee shop near my home in SouthEast Portland. As I sip on my Americano, I reflect on how the Lord has been changing my heart over these past few months; the cup in my hand really speaks to the issue.

When I moved to Portland, I greatly disliked coffee. In my stubborn pride, I looked in disdain at every cup all these Portlanders drank. That stuff was bitter and wasn't to my liking. So was tea. And I told people so. 

Then one day in October, I was standing in line at a Starbucks waiting to get coffee with a student and I randomly felt like the Holy Spirit told me to get a mocha instead of my typical hot cocoa.  I didn't want to, but the next thing I knew, I'd paid the cashier for a mocha with soy and I was sitting at my table with my undesired beverage. My student had heard me order and was on the verge of a heart attack from the excitement of me finally learning to drink coffee. I tried it. It wasn't bitter. It actually....wasn't all that bad. 

Weeks turned into months and slowly I began to wean myself off the sweeter coffees until last week when the moment of truth came. Sitting with that same non-believing student, I drank my first whole cup of black coffee. And it was delicious! She asked me what had made me change my mind. The Spirit brought my coffee journey full circle as I had opportunity to speak freely about Jesus through these two things I've learned:

1. Bitter isn't always bad.

Neither is a gray cloudy sky. Or rules. Or even death. Each of these contrasts their opposite: sweetness, sunshine, grace, life. Without them, we wouldn't have a proper knowledge of the world and our blessings. And with them, we get to experience new dimensions of the fullness of joy He has for us here. Bitterness adds new possibilities for our tastebuds. Gray has so many beautiful shades and turns the Willamette river silver. Rules create a framework for organized living. And death can finalize a life well lived and usher a redeemed child into the Presence of God. 

2. Love must be relevant.

Until a couple of weeks ago, quite a few precious brothers and sisters in Christ had tried to get this across to me (you know who you are--THANK YOU), but I had such an attitude, I couldn't see the truth the Lord was literally screaming through them, trying to get my attention.  Then on March 1st, Ken, Joshua, and I went to Seattle for a conference on how to better reach international students. One of the speakers said, "Don't look at your international students as a group of people who need charity or pity because they didn't grow up in the U.S. Praise God they didn't grow up here! They have a different and unique world view; God has given you an incredible opportunity to learn by bringing the diversity of His heart right to your community. Humble yourself. Learn. And love AFTER you learn about the ways they connect to God. To try to teach them God from your worldview alone is futile; you want them to be able to not only grasp and accept Jesus as their Savior but to be able to carry Him back to their cultural contexts." 

The Lord used that comment to shake some sense into me. And it hadn't just been in international ministry that I'd expressed the "they just have to get used to the way I love" mentality. It had manifested itself many places, even with people from my own childhood culture. Sometimes love looks like a cup of coffee, that I've learned to actually enjoy, along with this cultural context I'm learning to call home. Sometimes love looks like eating grape leaves diped in olive oil and vinegar with a smile for the sake of the gospel even if a piece of me is dying with every chew; it looks like trying it again...and again...because I refuse to be hindered in ministry because my tastebuds are trying to run my life. Sometimes love means learning to appreciate video games so I can connect with my students who love them. Sometimes love is staying out of someone's bubble because they are not a hug person, even though I am. It's not about how I feel or what I want. If I want to encourage, sometimes I need to first stop throwing up discouragement on them by my complaining, and then begin to listen to find how to build them up. Love can't be demanded, manipulated, or used. If I'm truly seeking to love them, it's not about me--it's about them and it's about Jesus.

It is my desire that as we walk our separate journeys, the Lord will grow us all in these areas of faith. I pray that I will continue to be open to His changing my heart, as I know I still have a long way to go in learning to love like Jesus. 

For love seeks not her own. 

Lord, let it be true. 

And begin in me. 

Maybe I should tackle green tea next...

Aim Adjustment

Frustration. Anger. Pity Party.

Emotions frozen on my face. 

Love, joy, and peace-filled? Hardly.

More like jealous, self-abased.

Still I longed for friends' approval

Thus I set my sights, my aim.

Thinking that by exhaustion's removal

Rest I would finally gain.

But is rest truly the opposite

Of exhaustion or is there something more?

Is rest truly competent

To equal fullness, fully restored?

Or must there be an element

That translates rest to strength?

That makes approval relevant?

That allows for peace at length?

Deep down I knew there had to be

So all the more I sought.

True friendship I attempted to see,

But the more I struggled, the more we fought.  

I felt the feelings of a kid.

Friends felt my floundering, too.

Nothing to give. Every step a skid.

"I'm not enough. I cannot do."

A day of mercy unexpected,

An hour of hope, a word of grace.

Suddenly--conversations connected. 

Maybe I could find my place.

For the first time I saw beyond

The end I had fought for so.

And with that facade finally gone

I saw I'd set my sights quite low.

When the approval of man was a must,

I'd chained myself to failure's fate.

By demanding my friends' love and trust,

I'd wearied myself with worthlessness' weight. 

In seeking to not be a child,

I'd displayed some of the most immature traits.

And while claiming rest meant recompiled,

I'd forgotten the One Who must reinstate. 

Or maybe I didn't forget Him truly...

Maybe I never really knew His heart. 

Perhaps this called for seeking newly; 

Perhaps this called for a clean, fresh start.

Who is this God I claim as mine?

What is my identity? 

What will happen if I find

The power of a His presence fully?

What will happen if I hear

His heart-song over me?

What does it mean to reverantly fear

The God of Eternity?

Yet not quite there, I thought, "I get it!

If I seek God's approval, I'll get man's indeed."

Gently, He said, "No child. Quit it.

Seek My approval, and it's all you'll need.

Pursue My Love, and you'll overflow;

You'll have excess to give.

Be a woman who my heart knows; 

Then trustworthiness you'll live.

Adorn yourself with humble compassion

And in all who you meet you will beauty see.

Carry yourself as Jesus-fashioned.

It's not about you. It's all about Me."

I felt grateful tears melt frustration

And realized they no longer stemmed from defeat.

Not "I am not enough" desperation.

Rather, "He is exhaustive; He is complete."

Broken Windows

I look beyond the window
Of the house wherein I dwell.
I long to dance upon the moss,
Drink water from the well,
Engage in conversation
With the children playing there.
But my longing turns to tears
As I breathe this stuffy air.
This room with four square corners
That I know is not my call.
Why must I then be stuck here
While outside Autumn falls?
With all that is within my heart,
I want to self-combust.
I raise my fist to break that pane.
One whispered syllable: "Trust."
Angrily, I shake my fist
"But now, NOW is my time!"
And out of frustration
I sit to pout and whine.
But the still, small voice just waits
For me to settle down.
Then speaks in tones so gentle,
"I'm not trying to keep you bound.
I don't want you to bust the window,
But that doesn't mean You're doomed.
I only want to protect You.
Broken windows badly wound.
I'll open it up in my timing;
Child, soon you will fly free
And do those things I made you for,
But for now, please trust in Me.
I can't tell you what I'm planning;
It must be a surprise.
But when I do it that sight out the window
Will be too glorious for your eyes."
I look beyond the window
Of the house wherein I dwell
And the excitement builds within me.
As I know this: All is well.


-----------------------------------------------------------------

To read the Oregon Journey blog post that corresponds with this poem, go HERE.

As Sure as Breath is Life

Lifeless desert sand dunes, a grove of trees for shade,
A family: Abram, Sarai, Ishmael, Hagar (Sarai's maid).
Manipulative, backfired plans that sprung from faithless doubt
Yet El Roi wasn't finished; He knew what would come out
Of all the mess;
He still would bless.
As sure as breath was life.

These words spoken from heaven: "Almighty God am I.
Walk "all in" before me; make My Name your first cry.
A sure, abounding covenant, a name-change so intentional
By man's standards so strange and extremely unconventional.
The "h" sound entails
A distinct exhale
As sure as breath is life.

The name given to the Spirit in Hebrew is Ruah
It literally means "the outbreathing;" a fact our Father foresaw.
When the Father changed the name, He exhaled for the "h" sound,
Making the name Abra[h]am: Jehovah's breath in Abram found.
Abraham
Father of many lands
As sure as breath is life.

When anyone receives Him, they have a new identity,
Christ in them, the Hope of glory, in one holy entity.
The Holy Spirit takes His place, Ruah breathes anew.
And enables us to reproduce as we His glory pursue.
Abba smiles--
Breath-fills His child
As sure as breath is life.

Pig-Slop Kiss

based on Luke 15:11-24

Dirty, grimy, gross, and poor,
Tired, weary to the core,
Awkward, muddy, rebellious teen,
Unbathed, anything but clean.

Clean, pure, washed, and wealthy,
Strong, well-dressed, able, healthy,
Confident, transparent, graceful,
Always patient, ever faithful.

Joyful greeting, undignified run,
Huge hug for Father and son.
Blatant forgiveness, ginormous party,
Big meal--potatoes and steak kind of hardy.

Laughter and joy so starkly contrasted
To past fleeting pleasures that never had lasted.
No more pigpen, instead royal treatment,
Despite the child's poor choices so frequent.

Miracle of love--it holds no grudge;
Reconciled! though I was covered in sludge.
What beautiful reality! Our Father planned this
And rejoiced to give me a pig-slop kiss.

Desert Flood

Endless miles of sand ahead,
Behind, around, fill my soul with dread.
Why was I by Him this path led?
Could He not choose another?

My soul is heavy, weak, and dry.
Where once light, strengthened, satisfied.
My week's most frequent word is "why?"
Could He not choose another?

And yet while it appears at hand
That I walk in water-lacking land.
The deluge of rain I cannot withstand.
Should it not be one or the other?

Pelting drops that sting my face
Join a river's torrent; my feet displace.
My tears join the current; I plead for grace.
Could He not choose another?

My soul is drowning, water-logged.
Where once abundant: sorrow-bogged.
The amount of change left my senses clogged.
Could He not choose another?

How could I be both dry and wet?
Would not one the other offset?
How could I combine them yet?
Maybe I could choose another?

I fight to keep the water near
That I might the desert re-engineer,
But it only more quickly disappears
Till I turn my gaze to Another.

Abba, I don't know how the Grand Design
Allows for seasons so undefined
But I know Your plan is better than mine
So I won't seek another.

I'll crawl through the desert, bowing my knee,
And sing in the rain of Your fidelity.
I'll trust Your perfect placement for me
Until You choose another.

Each day You ever my life preserve
Such that I can't give the praise You deserve.
For if so, what kind of god would I serve?
For my God is like no other!

Fading Mist

Drops of water

Converged

Once upon a time

To make a cloud.

Closely

They interacted:

Laughing and Crying,

Giving and Taking,

Sharing and Bearing

As they passed together

Over the mountains and valleys of fleeting

Moments.

But the winds!

How they continuously

Batter the bonds of 

Friendship.

And the sun--

How it relentlessly

Melts the marks of 

Comradery.

So the sorrow begins

As the mist is forcefully

Divided.

Not knowing at what time

It may unite again.

Nevertheless,
Time marches on

With uncaring pace and unkind intentions

That slice stubbornly

And scream silently

Through the fading mist.

The Young Man and the Sea

Cerulean waves of depth, threatening 

The young man's hope.

What is the scope

Of the horizon?

It surprised him

How well he knew the sounds

Of wind and rain.

He turned around to bait his line

Casting it to the depth of possibility

Doubting his ability.

Yet knowing he must to it cling.

Gray waves of exhaustion, overwhelming

His clouded mind.

Faith and Doubt intertwined

With harsh reality. 

The winds of joviality--

How they had dissapated to doldrums

Of boisterous calm. 

He felt the weight tugging his line.

Lifting it from the sea, he sighed

For the hook held only Disappointment Applied.

When would he land opportunity? 

Silver moon of reflected light, gleaming

Over the man.

As he fights to stand

And flourish and live.

What the light's glimmer gives!

How it paired with the stars points

To True North!

He grasps at the bow, thinking.

Renewing his purpose, line he cast

For he'd harbor no bitter thoughts of the past

For lack of faith could destroy him.

But what could defeat him?

"A man can be destroyed but not defeated." ~Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

Forty-four Thousand

Based on Luke 8: 42b-48

Forty-four thousand in need of His touch

Surely the multitude would prove too much.

How could I reach Him through the crowd?

I couldn't call; they were much too loud.

I couldn't text Him so He'd sit with me. 

Yet I needed His presence to truly be free.

Forty-four thousand inside the Dome

A place God had come to dwell in as Home--

Could all of us feel Him? Could all of us know

His heart for us? Could He stop our blood flow?

We worshiped and called Him, we asked for His grace

Until suddenly we realized--His robe filled that place!

We all saw Him sitting on a throne--exalted, 

Willing to heal the oppressed and assaulted.

He was there in His power as His glory descended,

Willing to make the broken hearts mended.

He was there in His love; his robes invited

Every soul to come, be refreshed and ignited.

And in our healing He rejoiced, delighted.

Forty-four thousand who've felt His power

Who no longer have a reason to cower,

We'll go in peace as Jesus told us,

Knowing His everlasting arms infold us.

We cannot consume Him, no matter how many

Reach out, but He can consume us plenty.

We're going out boldly to proclaim His name,

To do something now for His glory and fame.

For His glory we'll be the voice outspoken

To free the bruised, the battered, the broken.

We don't have to worry about the mocking from "them."

He'll be our renewal; we cling to His hem.

We're not ashamed of the One Who saved us!

Indifference and apathy no more enslave us.

"Jesus" will be our proclamation

To our country and every foreign nation.

We are the Lord's generation!

No Funerals Here!

Based on Luke 7:11-17

The funeral took me through the desert.

Sorrow was all I had to eat.

Tears were the only drink provided

For all I could do was trudge and weep.

All surrounding me screamed "ashes."

I felt dead in my pain and fear.

But then I saw a man in the distance,

Beckoning me to come, draw near.

At first I thought I saw a mirage

Until I saw a city, too.

And above the city gates was written:

"Beauty--where the dead find life anew."

This was no mirage--but Jesus!

He touched my coffin and said, "Arise!"

And all that had felt dead within me

Suddenly became alive!

His mercy filled me with His peace,

Discouragement replaced by dancing.

All I could do was respond, abandoned

To being a part of His kingdom-advancing.

First quietly worshipful--then noisily grateful--

I praised the Healer of the nations.

No funerals here; God's come to help us!

Truly we are a chosen generation!

That Blessed Hope

Based on Titus 2:11-14

One night in hopeless Bethlehem

As Roman soldiers walked the streets,

As crowded inns are filled with travelers,

The world a newborn baby meets.

A baby Who came to change the world,

That it might no more in darkness grope;

He's Light of the World, Savior of all,

Our Righteousness, that Blessed Hope.

This day in hopeless America

As nothing is solid, nothing is sure,

As we wonder what will happen tomorrow,

He is the One Who shall endure.

He's the Rock to stand upon in trials.

Encourage each other; do more than cope!

For he fulfilled the first coming promise,

And he'll come again--that Blessed Hope.

And one day in this hopeless world

As we do not expect His shout,

As trumpets sound, He will descend,

Secure His children and crush all doubt.

The King Who reigns, forevermore,

Will reveal His glory in fullest scope.

We'll worship Him as we rise to heaven,

"All honor to You, our Blessed Hope!"

Big Enough

For the people of New York City; may God show His power and glory to each of you in a powerful way!


Just like the monoliths that tower above the city streets
Look so much bigger in person than what most generally meets
The eye when you look at pictures, that's what I'm like--enhanced,
So powerful and above all. You must do more than glance.
Refuse to rely on pictures that others give you of Me.
Draw near and take in My glory. Know firsthand My majesty.
I'm big enough to hold your hand in the crowded ways you face.
I'm big enough to meet your needs with My relentless grace.
I'm big enough to grant you strength to share My hope with them.
I'm big enough to pick you up when you fall and yield to sin.
I'm big enough to orchestrate all out for your best good.
I'm big enough to help you do things you never could.
I'm big enough to handle the moments when you cry.
I'm big enough to take it if you need to ask me why.
I'm big enough to sing with you when sun in your life shines.
I'm big enough on cloudy days to whisper "You are Mine."
I'm big enough to satisfy your hunger and your thirst.
I'm big enough to help you when your life yield you the worst.
I'm big enough to give you joy when the roadway seem too rough.
I promise you, my child. Be still. I am big enough.

Abba, Why?

for the family and friends of Camryn Pass, a precious, dynamic young lady that God took to heaven on October 9th, 2011

In pain and confusion

My heart questions, cries.

And I wonder if I'm sinning

By asking God, "Why?"

Why must death happen

To those who love You?

Why take the young ones

When there's so much to do?

Why hurt their families?

Why pain their friends?

How does this prove that

Your love never ends?

My heart is all numb;

This doesn't seem real.

I ask all these questions

But then guilty feel.

What if I'm not supposed

To question Your plan?

What if asking "why"

Is not trusting Your hand?

But a wise friend brings comfort

And helps me to see

That You want my heart's trust 

And yet full honesty.

"It's okay to ask why;

That's not a sin.

It only sin when you want 

An answer more than Him."

Abba, I want an answer;

I'm not going to lie.

But deep down, more than that

I want to draw nigh

To Your heart by Your promise

That You stay the same.

This is all for Your glory

And the praise of Your name.

So whether You answer me

Or blind trust request.

I will rest in the promise

That You do what is best.

Thank you, Abba, for letting 

Me ask You, "Why?"

And for counting each one

Of the tears I cry.

While I'd love explanations

For the the things that You do.

Above all else,

I want to know You.

You Make My Heart Sing

When my past tries to haunt me
And keep me down low,
When my future looks scary
And I don't even know
What I'm doing in this world,
When I'm tired of the pain,
When my sky is unviewable
Through the deluge of rain,
When the enemy attacks me
With outrageous fears,
When my body is aching
And I've cried all my tears,
When my throat is all scratchy
From calling your name,
When the fire of my joy
Is a mere struggling flame,
When I look at my friends lives
And I'm tempted to covet,
When I slip and forget I'm
In the world not of it,
When I recite the answers
In lifeless intonation,
When others don't listen
Or raise expectations,
When I wonder if I'll
Ever hear Your voice,
Then You send the assurance
And then I rejoice.
For I know You are worthy
And control all things,
When in the darkest times
You make my heart sing.

"He taught me how to sing the latest God-song, a praise-song to our God. More and more people are seeing this: they enter the mystery, abandoning themselves to God." (Psalm 40:3, The Message)

Looking over Jerusalem

Looking over Jerusalem,
Jesus wept
As the people performed
And opportunity was swept
Under the Rug of
Passing Time.
They misunderstood
The meaning of prime
-----And then He was gone.

Looking over our cities,
Jesus weeps.
For superficial religion
And performance keep
Us from Abba
And being a part
Of relationship
And Jesus' heart
-----That longs to give us rest.


Looking over my city,
My friends,
I weep for those who
View works as an end
To righteousness;
They do,
Forgetting Grace
And You.
------Caught in the clasp of Legalism.

Looking over Your people,
I pray
That You would reveal
Your gospel-filled way.
May my friends and I
Seek to know
The Giver of Life
And in You grow
-----That Christ might smile.

The Verbs of Restoration

Lying on my face

Tears falling fast,

Pleading for grace

For things in the past,

Knowing my sin

Has hurt Your heart,

Wishing deep within

I had not taken part,

Spilling out words

Of confession and sorrow,

Praying I'm heard

And that on the morrow

Beginning anew

I might follow Your plan.

Kneeling before You,

I stretch forth my hands.

Opening my palms

And yielding all in them,

Feeling the calm

Of the heart that has no sin,

Hearing You call

"Come know and be known,"

Being unafraid to fall

In Your arms as Your own,

Feeling the laughter

And joy that You give,

Rising up after 

Freedom's mine to live.

Sensing Your presence,

Seeking You with all my might,

Worshipping Your essence,

Laughing in delight!

Important

He sat writing,

Penning word after word again.

It seemed that every time I saw Him

Over and over in my dreams

He sat there, papers scattered 

Around Him in reams.

I could not help but wonder

What words lay under

His pen.

 What did He consider so 

Important?

I sat copying

The Words of Abba into my journal

Combating my discouragement with His paternal

Promises of peace and hope

That say nothing is outside the scope 

Of His watchful eye.

When I cry--

According to Psalm 56--

He makes a list;

Not one tear is missed.

He sat smiling.

Looking up from His writing, He turned to me,

Whispering, "Come here, my child, and see."

It was then I knew

What He found so 

Important.

I stood crying

Viewing trillions of pages:

The record of tears over the ages,

The ledger of Adam and Moses and Sarah,

And everyone thereafter to this very era.

And not only the tears but every heartache

Found it's way on the page with a time and a date,

Proving Psalm 56:8.

He sat writing,

As I observed the proof of His faithfulness.

And when I turned to look into His eyes

I realized

He was marking down those tears, also.

Those tears that overflowed

As I thanked Him for love so unrestrained

That He could consider me and my pain

So Important.

"You've kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, each tear entered in Your ledger, each ache written in Your book." (Psalm 56:8)

No Missing Tear (Psalm 56)

My enemy is against my very life

And torments me with words of strife,

Trying to get me to fall to sin

Twisting my words all around again.

My God, will You forget Your grace

Or hide Your face?

In You--You only--I put my trust;

I will fear nothing; I simply must

Rest in You.  You keep a list 

Of the tears I cry; not one is missed.

Oh, God, when their ridicule is appalling

You keep me from falling.

Your love-lit path is Grace applied,

May my life Your glory never hide!