Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Coming Storm

Peals of thunder
Rumble under
Dark and darker skies.

Doves are mourning--
Giving warning:
Trouble this way lies.

Eerie quiet--
Can't describe it--
Brace before the storm.

Rain's arriving,
Fierce and driving,
But we're safe and warm.

Behold, these are but the outskirts of his ways, and how small a whisper do we hear of him! But the thunder of his power who can understand? (Job 26:14 ESV)

Saturday, April 18, 2015

My Life

Father, take my strongest longings
And re-shape them as you will.
Keep your kingdom coming, dawning.
Bend me. Break me. Use me still.

Fill me with a holy passion
Brightly burning in the night
Mixed with tender, strong compassion--
Merciful, with truth and light.

Make me strong with manly action--
Fierce as fire and soft as lamb--
With no cowardly subtraction
From the saint you say I am.

Your great work won't be suspended
If I'm old or tired or weak.
Till my present life has ended,
May I seek and find and speak.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.

(Romans 12:1 ESV)

Sunday, April 12, 2015

War on Sin

Help, Lord!

I've made peace with my sin--
And not fought it, to win.
It's been buried at times
But it stubbornly climbs
Right back out of the dirt
And back into my shirt
Where it's eating a hole
'Way down deep in my soul.

It has festered and grown
From bad seed I have sown.
I must kill sin--right now!
But the question is,"How?"
Let me one more begin.
May I, Lord, kill my sin!
I'm not worthy to ask,
But enable that task.
I am yet prone to slip:
Father, break sin's foul grip.

For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. (Romans 8:13 ESV)

Friday, April 10, 2015


The season's young, with freshness all around,
But I am old and stooping toward the ground.
My paint is chipped or maybe scratched.
My youthful heart, though, can't be matched.
You see, my friend--and it's the truth--
Deep down inside, I'm still a youth.

I have been young, and now am old,
yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread. (Psalm 37:25 ESV)

I really don't feel quite as old (or as young) as this poem suggests, but this is what the photo seemed to say.

Sunday, April 05, 2015

Resurrection Morn - Mary Magdalene's View

Days of darkness, nights of gloom—
Our Lord’s dead now, in a tomb!
We come early, bringing spice,
Even though men don’t live twice.
We’re together, but alone.
Who will roll away the stone?
Will there be an awful stink?
Just to ask it makes me sink.
Ground is dewy—feet get wet.
Can you see the tomb just yet?
Look! The stone is rolled away!
What can happen worse today?
Then a young man, all in white,
With a face that shines like light.
He says Jesus isn't dead!
That he rose, just as he said!
Lord, what’s happened? He's not here?
I’m a mass of hope and fear!
Mary, Salomé, come see!
He is risen! Can it be?

Now when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices, that they might come and anoint Him. (Mark 16:1 NKJV)