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.