May

 

This poem was inspired by my past several months of life which were very challenging.  In a time of great stress, this came to me.  Forgive me if its a little vague.

 

Lord, You are the one who moves both earth and sea,
You are the One who takes and lets be.
Now, as I see my life before me,
like a prisoner groaning to be set free
I give it to you.
My doubt and fear, so You can move them.
My failures, so You can take them
Now just let me be, Yours, always, only.
You heal and nourish, and bless as You wish,
I pray in my heart that You would see what’s amiss
and desire to change it back to normal,
for all our sakes, but especially its.
Give or take, bless or curse, I pray
I could always say, or verse,
You, the God of earth,
are One who is worthy of worship.

 

2 Corinthians 1:20

The Prayer

 

This humble man stood to pray,
not a pastor, one of the lay.
Clearing his throat, he spoke a prayer,
“Heavenly Father Lord”, he really did care.
He prayed with passion, honest fervor,
no one spoke, no one to murmur.
Praying for mercy, grace, and understanding,
as a request, not demanding.
He thanked God for our people,
as a church, without a steeple.
For healing, the sick and well,
for blessing, in what we buy and sell.
For how we live, day to day,
that no one would be kept away.
That we would seek the lost,
no matter the time, nor the cost.
That Christ would come as soon as could be,
for the believers, for you and me.

Missed

I was going to post a Biography today, but considering its Mothers Day, and Kevin mentioned her, I figured I’d repost this poem I wrote shortly after my mother passed away.

I lay on the grass, and stare at the sky, think of her life, and start to cry;
There is a stone, cold and grey, sitting beside me this day.

It represents a mother, and wife, but doesn’t begin to grasp her life;
Zealous servant, the inscription says, but I remember the zeal less and less.

Its like a fading memory, a dimming glow, she was the one who taught me to grow;
She fed us well, I’m healthy and strong, maybe she had known all along.

Health is good, but God is better, I remember she wrote in a letter;
Trust Him wholly with your life; He’ll take away your burdens, strife.

He saw it good to take her away, but we shall see her again one day;
If there’s one thing I have learned: God knows best, and for best I yearn.

The One

I thought this would be appropriate for Easter, though it’s a little late.

The emblem of Christianity, shunned by humanity.
He saved and died for all,
because man ate, and took the fall.
Despised by kindred, hated by strangers,
this Man was born in a manger.
After being ridiculed, whipped, tattered,
He hung up high, broken, shattered.
It is finished, yelled at last,
by this Man, who was nailed fast.
Tortured and crucified was He,
For His love for you and me.
Three days long in the grave,
and only Mary was enough brave.
He is risen! She yelled with joy,
this Saviour, Lord, Man, and Boy.
Go ye into all the world!
I’ll return, my banner unfurled.
On this note, He did ascend,
but long it took them to comprehend.
This Son of the Father, filled with love,
Baptized by man, and blessed by a dove.
Enslaved were we, when He came,
no more chains! No more the same.
Accept Him in your heart today,
the Lord, Jehovah, our Yahweh.

There is a Hand…

There, in the darkness of life, stretching through much toil and strife,
is a Hand of infinite grace, reaching with a loving embrace.
I take this outstretched Hand, a sign of denying all I’ve planned,
and clinging to the promises that He has made to all man.

But years go on, and trials come, and I forget the grip of One,
who would keep me close beside and save me from the lethal tide.
These waves they wash over me, as I make decisions selfishly,
pursuing my own wants and affections, allowing myself to be effected.

But then a Hand, still with loving touch, pulls me back, away from much
that would do harm, and towards Himself, and forgiving arms.
Why did I leave such comforting love, given by my Savior, Father above,
abandoned for a foolish desire, destined for destructive muck and mire?

So while I can feel this worlds tempting pull, of everything it promises to my sinful soul,
I feel the Hand holding me still, to His righteous, omnipotent, loving will.