Can you value the future? Surrender the past? Love what’s leftover? Relinquish the masks?
Faith is made of sturdy stuff It doesn’t bend or break or rust It dares walk on wind and waves It shan’t forget to watch His faceFear is made of evil stuff It doesn’t love or laugh or trust Never moving past the grave Hiding joy beneath the dustHope is made of hearty stuff It doesn’t run or stop or quit Much too strong to just give up Keeping flames of faith alitHate is made of filthy stuff It doesn’t heal or help the hurt Over time it just gets worse Making pain grow in reverseLove is made of potent…
It’s been so much fun working on this relation “slips” series with my wife, the amazing Taylor. For those who prefer to listen, you can listen to Episode 64 right now. Also, you can read the poem for JJ featured on the episode here. If you’re new to the series, Taylor and I are wading into the murky waters of relationship difficulties because relationship troubles account for most of our daily frustration, strife, and anxiety. It might be between spouses, friends, coworkers, fellow saints, peers, parents, in-laws, children, or siblings. Regardless, slips in those relationships can be really difficult. However,…
Choices are fragile, necessary things. Tantalizing, agonizing little things. Brimming with endless possibilities. Accoutrement laced anticipations. Funneling into careless cessations. The question is asked, “Which way should we go?” The question echoes, “Does anyone know?” Arrogance answers, “Just enjoy the show.” Ignorance answers, “There’s no way to know!” Malevolence answers, “Don’t rock the boat!” Yet, choices are tenacious little things. Creeping through our minds even while we sleep. Twisting and tunneling deep in our souls. Every action straddled with reactions. Consequences lurk beneath distractions. They ask, “Is day any different than night?” I believe that shadows prove the sunshine. My…
God is nothing, they say Just imaginary games Yet morality, they claim Forgetting their context Ignoring histories flame Hanging by thin threads To ever-waning grace Blind to the inversion Holding conversions Creating diversions They know not their place Goodness without God Like moths to acrid flame Digging for diamond truths Yet never making gains Ignoring perversions Reality gone Almost without a trace Lost in oblivion No equilibrium Willful delirium From grace to disgrace Philosophy flipped aside Lost on the rising tide Grasping for hope inside But hope is not within It rides like winter wind From Heaven above Sometimes fire,…
Heaven came down without a sound Into a lost world needing found Majestic angels gathered round Shepherds bowed low onto the ground Even as wise men sought the crown Emmanuel in a manger A single ray of light shown down The tyrant trembling at the news Assembled swords to slaughter Jews Hues of red innocent blood oozed The baby king is dead he mused Yet Christ lived on our sins to take Emmanuel in a manger A single ray of light shown down Heaven came down without a sound The miracle growing in a stable God in the flesh came…
They twist and turn in the lamplights glow Whether friend or foe we do not know Tomorrow's ghosts above and below They are tellers of yesterday's truths The woven tales are not of their making The chains they clutch hellishly shaking With fingers pointed and backs aching They are tellers of yesterday's truths Consequences near or far removed Only delayed by time unreproved Their only intent is life improved They are tellers of yesterday's truths Can I deter my own convictions Interfere with mystic magicians Paving way for faulty suspicians For the tellers of yesterday's truths Holding onto hope like…
Those that run with swifter feet. Know not the grace of falling leaves. Nor the magic of treasures deep. For they move too fast and do not see. Those they love and things they need. They make their lists and miss the trees. The mystics mourn for living peace. Yet moments pass, and no one sees. Deeper wells of hidden gems. Forgetting depths of secret hymns. Humming unheard invocations. They won’t recall, and no one listens. Those that run with swifter feet. Might well find grace in slowing pace. For slow and steady wins the race. Avoiding dungeons, maintaining grace.…
I’ll take you to the gates of Hell I’ll show you what’s there It’s a horrific, sadistic, gaudy affair With twisted metals and steep swirling stairs I’ll take you to the throne of Death I’ll show you the way It sits atop the fork of two great lakes One called disunion, the other disgrace I’ll take you to the bowels of Hades I’ll show you who’s there The liars, the lied-to, ordinary faces With haunted red eyes and bent bloody feet I’ll take you to the edge of Sorrow I’ll show you the pain The broken, intrepid, intricate traces Longing…
If He is love, then love is good regardless of the pain. Perhaps the good is better once the hurt has filled our veins. Maybe love is worth more than we can explain. God gave us hearts that break. And grace to put them back together again.
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