Cold Joy

Going through some old files, I stumbled on this little poem I wrote about wintertime. May it bless someone, as I share it below.

The continuation of the study on the Beatitudes with regard to humility, is forth coming. I just had a good friend pass away, placing unexpected demands upon my time, for now.

 

The following is my last tweet announcing the death of my friend, and my grief.

“I need strength as I mourn the passing of a close friend who sat in my class at church. It’s things left undone that bring the sharpest pain. Yet, one of my last conversations with Jeff was about the great value of our friendship—I’m thankful for that. Prayers appreciated.”

Cold Joy

The hoary head of Old Man Winter

O’re my shoulder rises

His old gray eyes, the silver skies

His body, crystal white ice prizes

Perfect cleansing proffers he

To all outside their houses

Defecting ones, from coffers free

They froze to death their louses

Tis but a frame of reference
Icicles from the eaves
To free the mind to deference
The inner man to please

For one sees winter’s dismal gray
He hangs his head and mopes
Another sees with beauty gaze
The splendor of new hopes

For every kernel corn to sprout
What it was before must die
A senseless bane, your winter pout
I love those old gray eyes!

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Prison Poetry

Television networks like A&E make a fortune off of airing footage from inside state prisons. People seem intrigued or curious about what goes on inside those walls. There’s even a site online that sells memorabilia once owned by infamous prisoners. There’s a great deal of art, music and poetry that flow out of the prison systems as well, and often hand crafted products. I’ve known dozens of fine Christian men who are incarcerated, and I enjoy visiting with them. Some have now served their time and been released. Today I’m offering up this short poem written by one of those friends. You may find it odd, or different. It was written by my friend, Frank H. in Westville Correctional Facility, an Indiana State Prison. He has since gone to be with the Lord.

In honor of Frank H., a man completely transformed by the love of Christ. Miss you bro!

Solo Party

 

Havin a party—it’s here, inside

No, you can’t come in, cause I’m me alone

It’s just a cup of joe

A penitent man and a radio

Walking down this beaten path

That’s winding through my brain

Listen now, and hear me laugh

A bend in time to kill the pain

Outside my window, upon the horizon

The sun paints colors there

Inside my windows, a glimpse, just one

Freedom blazes a gala fair

Behind the walls, inside the fence

The state penitentiary

My body’s here, they have this dust

But my spirit, it is free

 

Living a Christian life behind bars is not easy, and Frank had many challenges, and faced physical danger daily. Yet whenever we corresponded, he was always more concerned with how I was doing. He constantly assured me that he was praying for me, and he loved to share the bible with others.

 

The next post from Series On Doing God’s Will is coming very soon.

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Alive & Active

 

“Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.” Titus 3:5

 

“Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.” James 2:17

 

There is a kind of faith that does not save, and the only way for you or me to distinguish between the faith of Christ Jesus that saves, and a faith that may profess Christ but does not save, is by what that faith produces.

 

Jesus said, “Just as you can identify a tree by its fruit, so you can identify people by their actions.” Matthew 7:20 NLT

 

Being aware there’s a possibility of having a false assurance of salvation makes me want to be absolutely certain. I don’t want to go through life thinking I’m saved if I’m not. Jesus makes this truth exceedingly clear in several passages. One such scripture is Matthew 7—in verses 22 & 23 Our Lord said,  “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!”

How horrifying would that be?

Once we are fully assured of our own salvation and we are continuing to grow in that faith daily, God’s love should compell us to compassionately speak the entire truth to all. When we do, it’s usually not popular with the world, but also with many who have joined themselves to the church and yet are still of the world—those who don’t know the real Jesus Christ.

 

“A faith that saves is actively producing the virtues of Christ within the believer.”

 

The virtues of godliness perform—they do stuff—they’re active. The working of His Holy Spirit within is reproducing all the attributes of God in those who belong to Christ. In theological language it’s called being sanctified—set apart from the world to become holy, just as He is holy. Our works of righteousness (good works) can never save us, yet the reason God did save us is so that we can, and will, do good works (Ephesians 2:10).

 

Enjoy these beautiful lines from “The Book of Praise.”

 

Tis from the mercy of our God

That all our hopes begin;

His mercy saved our souls from death,

And washed our souls from sin.

His Spirit, through the Savior shed,

Its sacred fire imparts,

Refines our dross and love divine,

Rekindles in our hearts.

Thence raised from death, we live anew;

And justified by grace,

We hope in glory to appear,

And see our Father’s face.

Let all who hold this faith and hope

In holy deeds abound;

Thus faith approves itself sincere,

By active virtue crowned.

God’s Mysterious Ways

Today I wanted to share with you one of the great poems of old which expresses the poignant thoughts of many of Jesus’ Saints down through the years. I find it evocative,  stirring deep feelings of awe and filled with reverant compulsions to worship our mighty God. Enjoy.

 

 

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm. 

 

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sov’reign will. 

 

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head. 

 

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face. 

 

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow’r. 

 

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain. 

 

William Cowper, 1774  

Copyright Public Domain

 

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For those who are truly interested in Christianity, and want to know what the bible teaches about God, about mankind, and about being Saved from our sins, please be sure to catch my upcoming series of posts on “Reclaiming Truth from Error,” In them, I’ll be discussing sound biblical doctrine, which every soul needs to be aware of.

Have a great day, and God Bless You!

 

 

Heart Auction

I’d actully forgotten about this draft for a post, written…who knows how long ago? Right now I’m living my next instructive post. It’s something I do before-hand, to make certain it’s what God wants me to say and share. When He teaches me something I have to really taste it first—kick the tires, if you will. I have no special connection to the Almighty that’s not available to each of us, I simply do a lot of heart & soul searching and spend lots of time in prayer. It always seems to begin with me being really sad and mourning over my mistakes and sins. But God is such a loving Father and always transforms my sorrow into the most awesome joy! It’s difficult to describe what happens in the Spirit—that’s something everyone simply has to experience for themselves. I pray that each one reading here knows Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. There’s just no other way.

 

Heart Auction

 

The loneliest heart sits throbbing in ice

Flotsam in vast sea—I paid love’s huge price,

As crowds press from every side to hear,

The auctioneer taking bids for me, dear.

A bared soul before the gawking masses,

Their love appears as frozen molasses,

Every hand outstretched to receive,

Bidding “Ten for the slave-heart so naïve.”

 

With beet reddened face hung low as can be

I know there are none who want me, as me.

 

From clear blue skies thunder voice crashes,

Hushes all, and all other bids smashes.

“For this beautiful heart I give my life,”

“I’ll sanctify her and make her my wife.”

 

The voice, the Savior’s, sweet Jesus my King,

He gave me His joy and makes me to sing,

Forever He’s now my everything.

 

Inviting He calls, “All who are teary,”

“Come unto me, all you who are weary,”

“All who are sore, heavy heart burdened,”

“Believe I arose, am God, my words and,”

“The life I give is free and abundant.”

 

Your price has been paid, in white you’ll be dressed,

Come taste of His love and He’ll give you rest.

 

This heart is still bare, its beauty to share,

Transformed by the Master with hands that care.

He heals hurting hearts who simply believe,

Soon He is coming, His bride to receive.

 

 

 

Please Title This

 

I’m in need of my reader’s help. I don’t think I’ll ever claim to be a poet, though every so often I write something I call a poem—lines with a message. My hope is that someone will offer a suitable title to the following group of lines, which I’m daring to call a poem. To make a suggestion for a title, please comment below, or contact me via Wordpress, or carrier pigeon—maybe a message in a bottle tossed into the sea? You’re the boss.

 

Having read reams of poetic history and didactic guidance blogs, how-to books and the like, I still have no great technical know-how when it comes to poetry. But perhaps someone who is a real poetry afficianado will recognize this type of poetry and know the degree of difficulty in creating it. I do thank God for the modern free-style poetry, which seems to have no reason and often no rhyme, but I’m a big fan of rhyme…all the time. Don’t get me started. In response to me getting stuck talking in rhyme, I worry that my wife’s eyeballs are going to get permanently fixed in an upward roll, as if she’s visually inspecting something up inside her brain.

 

I have lots of favorite poems and poets. But the one poem that always puts me in a creative dream state and sets me to attempting another poem of my own, is: Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.” He was a poet!

 

I have an intriguing article waiting to be posted, but there appears to be greater response when I post poetry, than there is for my straight up sharing what I’ve learned from God, and what I’ve experienced in this often-times challenging world. And so, I’m injecting this piece at the top of the queue. I am determined to be a blessing to the world—I will figure it out. And, glorify my God while exalting the name of Jesus Christ.

Here’s my latest… poem?

 

 

Untitled 

 

Darkness is slain by light

When fright turns into fight,

Where what you once knew reads wrong

Replaced by truth’s sweet song

 

Now you’re free, now you can see

With eyes piercing the dark

Free to roam—yet you are home

Truth has made you the spark

 

Once hemmed in by error

Lies were like prison flies

No more in constant terror

Alary, fly through skies

 

Your vast space is limitless

Love is your impetus

Truth is love that’s fully lit

Glowing heart, now you are smart

Attracting souls to knit

 

Light is truth and truth is love

Must, if it’s love, have trust

What comes from heaven above

You’re so much more than dust

Thought I Knew My Bible

”Venturing into God’s love and wisdom is the greatest adventure any soul can experience.”

 

As I continue doing research for my next post, I hoped to offer something here during the interim—something that was a blessing to me, and so am hoping will bless my readers as well. My mom sent this poem to me—it’s one of those that I realized was expressing thoughts very similar to those I’ve had in the past. So I kinda sorta wish I had been the one to write it, but I did not, and the author is unknown. Whoever it was, I completely agree with their words and have experienced this lack, caused by my own slack, but also have often witnessed this dilemma in others.

Enjoy.

 

I Thought I Knew My Bible

 

Yes I thought I knew my bible, reading piecemeal hit or miss,

Now a bit of Psalms or Proverbs, now a verse in Genesis.

Certain chapters of Isaiah, certain Psalms, the twenty-third,

Twelfth of Proverbs, first of Romans; yes I thought I knew the word.

But I found that thorough reading was a different thing to do,

And the way was unfamiliar, when I read my bible through.

 

You who like to play at bible, dip and dabble here and there,

Just before you kneel a weary, and yawn a hurried prayer.

You who treat the crown of writings as you treat no other book,

Just a paragraph disjointed, just a crude impatient look.

Try a worthier procedure; try a broad and steady view.

You will bow in very wonder, when you read the bible through,

And through and through.

 

Author Unknown

 

Rosy Prose

Sailing

 

I’m sailing away,

Into this painting,

Unfurling the canvas,

Rolled out in my mind.

The waves crash silently,

My ship rolls in a gentle sway,

Like two lovers on a dance floor,

Two moving as one—united in heart.

Pulsating rhythms of this dream,

Rapture me into the rays of the sun,

As it, sizzling, kisses the sea’s horizon.

I have company here,

Attending my mellow whims:

The clouds are all puffy,

Azure turns red, and then blue overhead,

Feathery wings tip in salute,

The waves are waving at me,

The dolphins smile at me,

I like it here,

Just me, my friends, and the sea.

 

 

While the real beauty of art lies in the viewer’s, or hearer’s personal perceptions, sometimes the artist is aiming at something specific. Whether it be a painting, a poem, prose, melody,  or another form, we hope to inspire, or to solicit deeper thought, and sometimes it is simply meant to encourage and appeal to pleasantry. Here, I am aiming for a certain pleasant sensation that one may experience when paying heed to the awesomeness of God’s glorious creations.

I felt the same way as I stood on a high precipice gazing down into the Grand Canyon at the Colorado River below. It’s as if God sets off a spark in the soul which seems to say, “Can you see me now?”

Perhaps, you too have felt it before. Maybe you weren’t sure what caused you to feel that warm embrace—it seemed so spiritual, as you beheld beautiful wonders on the earth, in the sea, or in the skies above?

 

 

And you shall seek me, and find me, when you shall search for me with all your heart.

Jeremiah 29:13

 

 

 

Be With Me Lord

Be with me Lord

The darkness of night surrounds me

Like smoky tendrils its spectral fingers grip

My courage is but a flicker, a spark in winter’s cold

Remain with me and proffer strength

I am but dust without Your Spirit, Your might

So small a thing was I, a lonesome soul adrift

My father’s son, born of Adam’s fallen race

A simple man who loves your truth, your word

When your Son bought me by your grace

You gave to me a name, and to my spirit, wings

Stay with me Lord—finish making me

That a giant I may be

In Christ my Savior

By this love that you have spawned

The One who works such fruitfulness in me

Be with me Lord, until the day has dawned

 

 

Bucket List

WANDERLUST

 

I have reached an age where I don’t mind exposing my strangeness, and if you are among my breed of writers, you know how we must bare our souls in print. If, that is, we are to write anything compelling, poignant or interesting. There’s not much nuance to this straight forward piece, and I was in a nostalgic state of mind when I wrote it. I just hope some of you will relate to “Bucket List”.

 

Don’t know how many days until that bucket stubs my toe,

But I know there’s lots of things I want to do before I go.

Though life can be real tough there’s softness in the rain,

Her tender kisses like poetry to strengthen through the pain.

 

Oh the list is mighty long—there’s so much I haven’t seen,

Crystal sands of islands never walked with waters blue and green.

Verdant fields of flowers softly wooing me by name,

Mountain streams with speckled trout and none of them the same.

 

So many unheard songs yet springing from this heart,

Lyrics of the singing soul the honey of life impart.

Horse and human explore together, wind on our grinning faces.

The roar of a Harley engine on scenic roads to all new places.

 

There’s characters to meet, and cultures I must taste,

This stone must keep on rolling, I have no time to waste.

From Atlantic to Pacific, the rivers and lakes between,

My soles are worn with miles, while reveling in what I’ve seen

 

But today the nest is empty, just me

And my half that sits with me,

Like hobbling wires, all strength requires,

And to travel I’m no longer free.

 

Bring out the billows to coax the embers of adventure,

Now I need a blender for cuisine to suit my fitted dentures.

Shod in unbroken squeaky leather, stiff, binding, new,

Nowhere to go, nothing fresh to do but ponder days that flew.

 

Lively prayer boils from my pew,

“Just once more” my intonations,

Let it blaze again—all that’s new,

See, hear, feel and taste, God’s creations

 

The rocker never was my style,

Though sunsets still amaze.

My keyboard speaks of many a mile,

Retelling adventurous days,

And of the God who walks with me,

And of His wondrous ways.

 

Lord knows when that bell shall toll for me,

When God shall toss that bucket

I’m ready for Him to chuck it

Just one kick, and I’ll be free.