Photo by Pixabay
I cannot keep trying to impress you
or manipulate what you think of me
it matters very little in the Truth of my identity.
To anticipate if you to like my verse
or if you’ll sing my tune or see my worth
all is Vanity and Vanity is a curse.
To know a person one must be true it is said
So do what you will and think what you think
It is only just words on paper with ink.
Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt
Like a cloud scattered by a strong wind
All illusions of security have blown away
So now I must stand on the Faith I have professed
In The One that keeps me in his sight!
All illusions of control are laid bare
Idols crumble like sand castles in the air
Gratitude has pierced my soul
It leads me to The Cross of His might!
Palms up, letting go, cleaning the house of my soul
Rhetoric and cliches must be purged in the clutter
Returning to the purity of being His Child
I still Trust in Him, the Lover of my soul, who has already won this fight!
Photo by Miri
Standing on the highest sand dune people moved back and forth on the ground below. She no longer has their youthfulness of an unlined face but she knew she finally possessed the joy of ageless Grace. The pilgrimage called her to this beautiful place. The wind and the sun an old friend on her face.
Now she is the shell seeker in the wide brimmed hat, as a child playing in the sun she’d laughed at people like that. She remembers younger days when she grew weary but now the days of peace are what linger here. Emotions don’t obey the rules they are the heartbeat in being human. Like waves reaching the shore emotions can be kept for a moment but are better when given away.
The shell seeker’ s eye remains clear and adept while watching the children play. She knows that life is not going back but more of giving it away. The Truth is, life consists in learning and loving well with Grace underneath God’s sun. To remain whole in the midst of life’s ups and downs, to surrender all secrets and lies is anointing oil to the soul. To shed insincerity and live in the present, the waves echo behind her now compelling her to go on.
Photo by Nadi Lindsay
Wisteria vines will grow on walls, over other plants and along the weathered splintered gray fence that is long forgotten. The vine of Wisteria is thick and knarled and strong…
The fragrance of the low hanging purple clumps of flowers permeated the bright spring day and it made her feel lightness in her heart that she had not experienced in a long while. She thought about how precious her memories of first love are. There in lies the treasure. It is in the pleasure and the pain…if you allow it, first love leads to the Truth that we know nothing much of love.
She is older now and reflects back often on what she thought love was as a young woman or rather perhaps she was simply in love with what she thought love was. She loved but then she lived. In that living she learned that love is tough as nails. Love is knarled like the Wisteria vine. Love will grow over barriers and around obstacles still blooming and still fragrant. Love is having the strength to stay. Love is a wild and furious risk, a pouring out of all that one can from that cup and drink it. Love is rich and poor. Love is sickness and health. Love is a verb, an action word. Nothing about love is passive. Love cannot be manipulated. Love. Risks. Everything. The Holy God is Love’s name…ponder this, ponder Him…you will find Him because Love never quits and perfect Love cast out all fear and Love never ever fails.
Photo by Joel Friend
When this young prodigal daughter wandered
It was not because You, O God changed in time.
You O blessed Savior still sought the one and left the ninety-nine.
I could not outrun your Grace even in the valley of the shadow,
I kept seeing your face in my disgrace and sorrow.
You said, “I have already won the battle”
As I lay deserted there I heard you call me Friend. .
Dying within an inch of my life I thought you must be a dream
But you Lord whispered “everyone needs to learn, from a desert comes a stream.”
Photo by Eternal Happiness
As I lay down my head in week six of this catastrophe I just want to say if you can fall asleep but not stay asleep that is okay. If a myriad of emotions and logic are surfing on your brain waves it’s ok. If you fall asleep and wake on a couch or a child’s room it’s ok. If you are praying more it’s ok. If you cannot find the words to pray it’s okay. If you are a conqueror one minute and not so brave the next minute it’s ok. If there are a hundred thoughts and feelings lying under the five you speak it’s ok. If you mourn for the dead and grieve for our globe it’s ok. These are where the avenues of grief and change and loss take us. It is ok. If you are active in politico or have turned all media completely off it’s okay. For it is not strength to pretend you are thriving in uncertainty and that you struggle with doubt and fear. It is in our weaknesses and doubts that God comes near. He is not limited not tethered to a cosmic heavenly throne. He is right here with us in our fragility and we are not alone. Jesus knows every cell of human bondage. He knows of courage being one heartbeat away from fear. Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us and He is with us now. So rest your weary head in his comfort when you can. I have seen His beauty and have tasted His goodness and it is a healing balm. Lay down your head and rest my friends for tomorrow we will try again. There is victory in His power over things we can’t understand. I have seen His Salvation in life and in death and He has never forgotten not one of His own since before the foundation of the world. Shalom tonight dear world. As for me I have tasted and have seen the goodness of the Lord and He is more than we can fathom and so if today you fell apart it’s okay because He never will…
Photo by Magda Ehlers
I saw fields of cotton white as snow
as blood red drops flowed down and soaked
those cotton fields and the earth below.
Yes the Blood dripped down on the cotton bolls.
As the Louisiana sun beat down that day
in June of 64 three boys came to say
we want to help you learn to vote
but they were shot down and the cotton was soaked.
Blood of black men drip down so slow
from the cottonwood tree the bodies swinging low
No one would help them, they were all alone
and the sun went down on the bloody cotton bolls.
Photo by Trung Nguyen
Everything that used to be solid is suddenly fluid.
The mid-afternoon sky the color of hammered gold
Waves of heat rising from the horizon looks like water only to find a hard rock road
I do love living where the Sky is bigger
Somehow it feels tedious to have too many trees above
If I don’t know you then I don’t know anybody
It is like waiting to touch the bottom of a bottomless well
Photo by cottonbro
I don’t know why they call it Good Friday
Beaten, naked and hung upon a tree.
No one to love you, not even God
A rejection never to be known by me.
Devastating penalty that Goodness might be.
It should be called ” the love note from God” day…
Photo by João
The sun has slanted across the sky
thoughts scroll through my mind then fly
That precise sliver in time
The see-saw is tipping to the down side
I slam and am jolted by the sand in my eyes
Suddenly a week seems like a lifetime
I know I never really controlled my world
The lie in my head where I thought I was safe
but being found in Christ I am not forsaken.