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She said I can’t go through this again
I can’t cover up your sin
Anymore…
She just kept walking down the road
Trying to drop that heavy load
Somewhere…
Oh the days go better than the nights
The prayers crack through a little light
Sometimes…
The storm blows in like a runaway train
Jesus is standing there calling her name
Again…
Photo by Little Visuals
Her hooded gray blue eyes are unexpectedly bright
She speaks of the “old days, the days of Bell Fright”
The terror, relentless ringing in the darkest hour of the night.
Communism she says, “did not deliver futures bright.”
Just more betrayal and fear, and torture called Bell Fright.
Not the Nazis, no but Comrades Stalin and Marx
Different regimes but same death toll ringing in their hearts.
Haunting broken melodies played on Hungarian violins
She still shivers with the memories of dark dank cells
She says no one ever knew before it could be so cold in hell.
This poem is inspired by the book Goodbye to Budapest by Margarita Morris and to all who have survived the Bell Fright of dictators of evil.
Photo by Engin Akyurt
Where does Comfort hide on nights like this
when I feel all the loss and the ones I miss?
Comfort dodges me like shadows on the wall
I know I must renew my mind or else I will surely fall…
Fall into doubt of my firm foundation
Fall into distortion of Evil’s confrontations
Fall into fear and lies of what lay ahead
So I will fight for my heart with His Sword of Truth
I will fan the flame of Faith I have had since my youth
I will rejoice that His Grace is sufficient thus far
and Grace will lead me on as I travel this star…
I will kneel at the foot of His Holy Cross
I will give thanks for all I have gained and not lost
So as the Comforter whispers His command of sweet Peace
The night shadows vanish and all shadows must cease
Now I will rest in the arms of my Heavenly Dad
and fall into the best sleep there is to be had
…and be renewed in the spirit of your mind… (Ephesians 4:23)
Photo by Mike
Oh yes I learned at an early age that my face and eyes and smile could paint a picture of self confidence and a surety I could articulate all the answers expected of me. I am after all, my Father’s daughter and “no one” would get next to me…
For years I danced this dance of being strong and able. Of not letting by hurts show. Of being articulate to hide the pain. Of keeping it all together for the sake of…
By God’s grace over the years this survival mode of being all together began to erode away as I grew into the realization I wasn’t made to just survive and I wasn’t made to please others or be strong or lead. I was made in the Image of God to live my life in such a way that He would be known and glorified by it (my life).
Now when I see my self coping with life in that old default survival mode more often than not I can spot it and go to the Holy Spirit for guidance and He is always ready and present. God does not help those who help themselves. Nope. That is recorded nowhere in Scripture. God knows that we cannot save ourselves which is why, of course, He saves us through His Son Jesus, by Grace, by Mercy, by His atoning blood shed for us. God saves people who think their coping skills are working until they aren’t. God saves us because of who He is not because of who we are or anything we have done. This is a great relief to me and probably any fellow believer in Christ. This truth gives me great comfort every day.
When Jesus told the disciples that He had to return to the Father’s house to prepare a place for us and said he would send us The One who would dwell in us, with us, guide us, and yes give us heavenly coping skills until that glorious day we go to our Father’s House forever.
How are your coping skills working for you? Eroding survival skills are a slippery slope that gives way to dying. God’s way is so much better. I choose not to go back to my comfort zone in order to avoid exposure, pain, or suffering. The cost is much too high so I choose to stand in The One who really did pay the highest price for me.
Photo by Rodolfo Clix
She wore a Silver sorrow
like a crown upon her head
Upon her shoulders Burdens and
her feet were shod with Dread.
Then touched was she by Grace
and Mercy that crown replaced
Now she dons the golden Joy
made of tears from Jesus’ face.
Photo by Nicholas Githiri
It was all a joke
Just a box of smoke
But now the girl could finally see…
Yea the boy took notes
Just to get their votes
But she gave hers away for free…
Oh how the mothers cried
horrid howlng in the night
as rain gullied down the blood washed street…
Then they all shut their eyes
as though suddenly blind
pretending they had sacrificed themselves for Peace…
Photo by Samuel Wölfl
The sound of blood thundering in my ears…crashing to shore like a wave on a cliff crushing all the breath from my body. Utter fear pounding and pounding in my brain. My heart aches with the “unknowing” of a thing. A small blip of Faith still beats now and again. My eyes see no pathway. My ears only hear a rushing like thunder…wild and furious are my thoughts. Will He BE who He says He is? Doubt mocks me with every second of my pain…is there another moment left to me? I must now meet my God who loves me…oh yes, I will meet Him here or there…where there is no marking of time. It is God who justifies. Will I flesh out what I say I believe? Not by MY might and not by MY spirit but by the Lord’s “no holes barred” power alone. Right now! Right here! Loss, fear, joy, war, victory, death, and life…I cry out without words or sound…blip, blip, faith, blip, blip, faith…then a wisp of Presence. A command for Peace. I cry to The One I have never seen and then sight of soul dawns like morning.
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, [39] Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38,39)
Photo by Skitterphoto
The first time I touched heaven I was a five year old little girl who knelt down beside her parents and prayed to Jesus, who loves me…The faith of a child was heaven…I touched the face of pure love. I prayed to Trust Jesus.
A twenty one year old college girl alone in the sand and sea with Hope renewed. I touched the King of the Kingdom and I confessed all my fear and failure… and we walked anew.
A thirty year old wife and mother…tired and scared of what I didn’t know. I touched the Spirit of God and he whispered to me that He would never leave me…I rejoiced in Peace.
A thirty-four year old woman who was breaking her marriage and her life and had depression and despaired of the goodness of God…but he gave me a man who would not walk away and I touched a Faith restored in God’s goodness.
A forty-five year old daughter I put my Daddy in his earthly grave and a light went out of me in this world but the Light of the World kept shining and I touched the Power of the Resurrection in Jesus Christ.
A sixty-three year old grandmother of five…I kneel each day in gratitude for every breath and every family memory…I touch Joy unspeakable and full of Glory…
When I leave this body to go to my Father’s house…I will go to The One who died for me and I will touch eternity and live forevermore in His presence finally touching my Lord who is Heaven…
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It is the coldest night in years
The heavens in the sky so clear
The burden on her back slid off her shoulders
She thought, I must lay down this boulder…
It is time the voice said, there is no more to do
I want you to leave this burden here tonight
Survival is fear based and slides into dying
Thriving mercy comes from Me the voice cried…
She lay down on the cold ground shivering
When she woke a spring morning shining
She looked around with a pounding in her mind
And the boulder was no where in sight…
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I dream I am in guerrilla warfare, watching for sharp shooters on the roof tops
The King was right when he said we do not fight flesh and bone
Yet we insist on killing our own over and over, the choice made, cannot be taken back
There are many traitors among us, or most likely they never were a child of the King
They look just like me so I cannot know who will gun me down, it is not for me to judge
The Truth can pierce the bone from the marrow, I know because it happened to me…
I must don God’s armor at all times, be vigilant in lie detection, oh the enemy is so smooth, it is a false light…
My heart is pounding, I cannot be silent, for every day is a day of war in the spiritual realm, to immense to be ignored.
The manifold wisdom of God sees all, the Captain of the host holds all power in his name, Messiah, Jesus, God with us
So I take up my weapons… the belt of Truth, the shield of Faith, the helmet of Salvation …
I continue to walk behind the enemy line for I know the Battle is the Lord’s, I long to remain a diligent warrior
The sharp shooter is still on the roof, the scope on the rifle is aimed at my head, I can see his eyes dead like dolls eyes
I choose to keep walking…
I walk on vigilant always for any inkling of the enemy’s presence…deafening silence
yet in a split-second a pervasive white mist envelopes me…
I feel heavy weight and aching in my body and spirit, it is the supreme stealth weapon of the enemy
It is shame, my most relentless foe
The ballast of Shame slaughters aggressively, the deadliest of weapons, worse than sarin gas…
If I don’t kill it, it will kill me and all it touches, shame is unholy from hell
I cry out to the King, blood seeping from my chest, a razor-sharp slice
I did not feel it at the point of entry
Towering above the shame the King appears, brandishing his two-edged sword
it blazes and radiates like a million Suns, in a blink the sharp shooter
on the roof top falls dead
I am blind now, crouching down behind my shield of Faith
the King wields his Holy two-edged sword and shame screeches like the demon it is…
instantly there is silence, my heart is no longer bleeding, I regain my sight
The Holy Spirit is the watchman, the Angels encamp around me
I savor the Holy rest of victory this day…
I
Jill Autrey Dorman 