Photo by Alex Fu
Even in the darkness I cannot hide from you…
When my fear whispers that I will not be able to cope
that I will never make it out of this hole…
Faith tells me my Father knows what I need
The Father who keeps filling me with his strength
and just in time He supplies all the Holy Light
that I need to battle through this dark night…
I raise my head from my prayer and I see Jesus kneeling there
The Light of the world has prevailed and no earthly power can keep me from His care…
Photo by Caio Resende
He Trains my hands for war so that my arms can bend the bow
He gives me strong feet to trod swiftly here below
My God who makes me blameless with His gentleness so great
His own arms will uphold me until I dance before His gates!
Photo by Rakicevic Nenad
The Angels have not grown older.
I always see them over my shoulder;
gentle, yet piercing mighty eyes.
Always checking the road maps and signs.
I have grown much older;
my dreams like nets all thrown.
Some I’ve known have wished me well;
a couple of them said “go to hell.”
Words, just words without caring.
Words, just words both wrong and right.
Still, I journey on toward His Holy Light.
Still, the Angels lie down beside me each night…
I journey on.
Photo by Ammar Ahmed
With Christ holding me in spine and spar;
Grace, as a steady breeze, sails me far.
My tail, the Holy Spirit, cuts the air.
Grief reels me in from slice and tear.
My Perfect Maker holds the line.
Bridled by His voice calling me “Mine.”
I am His Joy and His Delight.
In loyalty, my soul takes flight.
Photo by Leo Cardelli
I heard a story ’bout a poet who gave himself away
The inner city was his canvas with no color in his dreams
He was a wanderin’ grifter but no one knows for sure
It is said he still wanders ’round downtown at local bars
This City is a hard place and it stings when North winds blow
It shows no mercy to the poor child with no where else to go
I heard a story ’bout a poet who sang his songs for all the lost
Then he set himself on fire to warm them from the chillin’ frost
The children who roam the Night Streets tell the story of a man
called the Inner City Poet who comes each night to tuck them in
Inside their cardboard boxes they lay there heads upon the ground
and the wanderer sings them lullabies ’til morning comes around
Photo by Tom Swinnen
What I’m trying to say is we could not have known
The life we made, the trials we have and will face
Nobody else can say they know because they don’t.
A step down a path, an opened door is the mystery future and past
A sorrow, a joy, a mistake, a right of choice or not
Between us we live it, two people together alone
Like an ancient windmill, a sentry watching it all unfold
Lying down in a field of tulips in the country side
Just between you and me it’s a beautiful work of art
Photo by Daria Sannikova
We lost all of the image of God when we were found outside of His Holiness. We are born rationalizers, barterers and liars. Yes we are all created in His image just as he says but Sin’s first act shattered that mirror image inside of us, at least until such a time as we receive the Power of the Cross of Jesus to regenerate us, to rebirth us from our darkness into His perfect light!
It doesn’t take much to look around us and see these powerful tools of the deception of Sin.
Sounds bleak doesn’t it? However, we have been given The Good News. We have been given infinite Grace flowing in the River of Mercy so that we might repent and obey to be Reborn into the Image of God in all His Goodness and power!
I am learning that the River gets deeper not shallow the further down stream I go. I am depending and counting on the fact I have been born again by the Blood of Jesus Christ and I have nothing to offer Him and never did but here is the beauty of the Truth of God’s plan to bring us back to Him in every way… The beauty of The Gospel is this: His love and Grace and all that implies is freely given to all who will receive it.
I have seen the River of Life and Mercy
A crystal clear river flowing from the throne of God and the Lamb
All who come to this river will be clean and whole
All burdens washed away, no more sorrows, tears, or death…
Revelation 22
Photo by Sebastian Voortman
They were each alone and tired of talking.
She remembered when she thought she told the Truth.
Then she grew up and knew it an impossibility for the corruptible man.
Yet their longing made them bolder and knit them together.
It is a risk you choose, even if it means you lose everything else.
Like The Master said, “you must lose your life to save it.”
Photo by Flo Maderebner
You may think you know me but you best beware,
I am stronger than any thing so You best take care
You mistook my illness as my identity
but the Healer came to me and set my spirit free!
I won’t run from haters or keep quiet your lies
The Spirit teaches me the Truth and why
You mistook my smallness as fragility
But my Maker gave Eagle’s wings to me!
I soar, I speak up, and I tell the Truth,
lies make you sick and bitterness takes root
Your Pharisee bondage is a con artist scam
I will listen and obey the great I AM!
Photo by Engin Akyurt
Hours will bend
as words pour onto paper
Long day’s journey
salty is the flavor
White sails billow
the gull cries for favor
I think I’d like to be alone
but time can turn the tables
A Wild joy takes me over
The Holy hovers just inside
A Wild joy is my lover
ever changing with the tide
Jill Autrey Dorman 