During the Lent Season this year I made a covenent to write a poem every day as an offering to my precious Savior. I wasn’t entirely successful but I found it a great exercise and a real discipline of loving Jesus. I want to share a few of these poems here:

A Scarlet Promise

She stood on the brink of destruction,
Looking certain death in the face.
She knew the darkness was closing in.
With great faith she cried out for grace.

A cord in the window her signal,
A promise that her life would be saved.
A scarlet rope her only lifeline,
An escape from a desert grave.

Brought into the family of God,
Given a name, a hope, a place.
Her scarlet rope led out of death,
And into His glorious grace.

Line of the Savior, Messiah,
Named as one of His own,
Scarlet rope led to life eternal,
From destruction to heavenly home.

Standing on the brink of death,
I was lost in a cyclone of sin,
Desperate I cried out for help,
As the darkness was closing in.

A cord from the window of heaven,
Scarlet with the blood of Christ,
His sacrifice covered the payment,
And I am offered new life.

Scarlet thread of His precious blood,
By which Justice has been won.
Scarlet cord our only hope.
Scarlet with the blood of His Son.

Failure

When failure knocks hard on my door,
I’m on the floor,
Hopeless and spent,
Heart hole is rent.

I hear your sweet voice call to me,
Look up and see,
Nothing to fear.
I’m always hear.

At once failure’s power is lost,
You paid the cost,
Now I can see,
You’ve set me free.

Master Deciever

A liar can make falsehoods
appear to be true.
Or he can take the truth,
And turn it all askew.

A master deceiver,
Will play both sides,
Making the fake seem real,
And sending the real to hide.

Turning truth around,
Finding falsehoods right,
Irrational delusions,
A game of stealthy slight.

It’s shocking to recognize,
The liar within me,
To see the twisted path I take.
And know I am not free.

To see the truth as a trap,
And lies as my best chance,
To set my hope on deception,
In this sneaky life-dance.

Oh it is a tricky place,
I’ve set my own barricade.
Held captive by the lies I live,
And lost to truth’s parade.

I am a prisoner of my mind,
And of the false made true,
I am a captive of my fate.
Where truth would never do.

Caught in my own design,
Trapped by my own web,
Deception’s edge is lost,
And I’m as good as dead.

Till Truth itself arises,
Says, “I can set you free.’
Recant the lies that hold you down,
Come and follow me.”

The Sacrifice

Up on a mountain in torment he knelt.
Wrapping his son with great love.
Whispered a prayer to God above.
Oh, the turmoil he must have felt.

Wondering at this blow he was dealt.
Determined still to obey.
Caught in his own emotional fray.
Up on the mountain in torment he knelt.

Offered up the emotions he felt.
Followed through the command.
Till with a voice God stilled his hand.
Down on the ground in relief in knelt.

Under a cross in torment he knelt.
Unable to bear the weight.
The sins of the world his fate.
Redemption through fire and smelt.

Oh the wrath of God he felt.
As the curse of sin was bourn.
Yet he awaited a bright new morn.
Under a cross in torment he knelt.

Before your throne in wonder we kneel.
The gift of your love so great.
You’ve washed away sin’s fate.
By your wounds we are healed.

Looking into your face we feel,
Grace flow from your nail-pierced hand.
We’re made new in this holy land.
Before your throne in wonder we kneel.

 

 

This poem arose out of a recent conversation I had with God. His precious reminder to me, is that He will not forget me. He is working for my good constantly right in the middle of some of the most difficult days of my life. I may feel disconnected from rest of the world. But God is always with me, always for me, always loving me.

Not Forgotten

I look around,
And no one knows.
And I feel alone,
Like I’m breaking,
And the world just keeps spinning.
And I know
It’s not anyone’s fault.
It is not their pain.
It is not their sorrow.
It is mine.
Am I alone?
Does this sorrow set me apart?
I don’t belong.
I can’t belong.
Breathing hurts,
But I keep breathing.
Living hurts,
But I keep living.
Thinking hurts,
Can I stop thinking?
Walking hurts,
But I keep walking.
Fragments of my shattered life,
Dig into my feet.
Am I alone
In this world of agony?
Will my heart always beat,
To the rhythm of sorrow?
Am I forgotten?
A whisper carried on the wind.
“I created you,
I cannot forget you.
I will not forget you,
You are not alone.
You belong to me.
And you are deeply loved.”

 

 

Let there Be Light

“Let there be light!” Christ thundered across the dark expanse,
And suddenly luminescence in vivid color began to dance,
Across the waters and the void, His voice exploded over all.
In the brilliance of that light, darkness receded from his call.
His power displayed in living color, light revealing glory,
Thus the world began, in vibrant light He wrote the story,
With power, awesome strength, with wisdom and yes grace,
“Let there be light!” He cried as it burst forth from his face.
Light and glory, love and life were created by His hand,
Placed within the garden according to His perfect plan.
Sun to light the day, moon to light the night,
stars in the expanse, glory ever within sight.
Humans then He crafted with care and great design,
“We’ll make them in our image! To reflect our light divine.”
Created in His image, to receive His precious love,
Made to reflect his glory from earth to heaven above.
But alas, darkness lurked, in the shadow of a tree,
And man fled from the light, seeking to be free.
Independence now his chains, holding him in darkness yet.
The world plunged into darkness, thus the stage was set.
Years of darkness, years of sin, have shrouded Glory’s rays,
The beauty of creation wrapped in darkness till the day,
“Let there be light!” He whispered into a world gone cold.
And with His precious blood, wrote a story of love so bold.
The Christ in humble nature, the light of the world appeared,
Wrapped in human flesh, God himself drew near.
Jesus with his death, dispelled creation’s darkest hour,
And by his resurrection, revealed God’s glorious power.
The path I trod was shrouded in darkness and despair,
Separated from the light by sin a burden too great to bear.
Then into my heart came a cry my soul did gladly heed,
“Let there be light!” and the darkness rose to flee.
Suddenly luminescence shattered the darkest night,
And I stood naked and bare before the God of light.
Recreated to bear his image, by His Spirit, by His Son,
Made to reflect his light, His glory to everyone.
For there will come a day, when His thunderous call will ring,
And the trumpet will announce the coming of our King.
“Let there be light!” The cry, as unhindered diamond rays,
Of His glory and His light burst forth in grand display.
The whole world made anew to reflect His glory and His grace,
Our life’s purpose will be realized as we gaze upon his face.

Grace Pools

I wrote this poem along with the post for October 21st. God has really challenged me to allow His grace to draw me to a place of deeper worship and communion, not merely contentment.

Pooling at the lowest levels,
Grace pours from your throne,
It cascades down around me,
and I find I’m not alone.

Showered with your kindness,
Drenched in your rich care,
My heart held captive by your mercy,
Set free from Satan’s snare.

Sitting in a pool of grace,
that’s gathered round my feet,
looking up into your face,
I long with you to meet.

I know I don’t deserve you,
But you deserve my praise.
Grace pooled around me,
Pulls me from my haze.

Rushing like a torrent,
It drives me to my face.
You teach me to worship you,
With each drop of priceless grace.

The Curse Undone

I wrote this poem the other day when I was blogging about the effects of sin and how quickly we can follow a path of our own making, and eventual demise.

I hear you saying you just don’t care,
And I know you believe it’s true,
You’ve tried so hard, too many times,
Apathy defines the new you.

But behind the vacant deadened stare,
I see the pain in your eyes,
The comfort of your new defense,
Is a clever, but useless disguise.

Your voice trembles not, despite the despair,
Your eyes are dry of tears,
But behind that wall of numbness,
Lie hidden your deepest fears.

The comfort you find in your own control,
Convinces you to stay,
Wrapped in your blanket of apathy.
It’s just easier that way.

A heart anesthetized with time,
Deaf to the Spirit’s call,
The cure you seek becomes the curse,
The deeper and deeper you fall.

But God’s pursuit is relentless,
His glory is at stake,
His grace alone can break your defense,
His love your hardened heart break.

The gospel is the only cure,
For the dulling effect of sin,
The curse is undone, the victory sure,
In unfettered surrender to Him.

A Time to Keep

Last night in Bible study we read the verses in Ecclesiastes 3 about everything having a season and a time. Many people might think this is my time to grieve, and in some ways it is. But when I read that passage, I really felt like this is my “Time to Keep.” This thought struck me so deeply that I wrote a poem to express what God said to me in that passage last night as we read it.

I am living in my time to keep,
A time to keep the faith,
A time to keep God’s promises,
And celebrate His grace.

I am living in my time to keep,
A time to keep the pain,
A time to keep my hand in His,
And celebrate the rain.

I am living in my time to keep,
A time to keep my hope,
A time to keep my trust in Him,
At the end of my own rope.

I am living in my time to keep,
A time to keep and find,
A time to keep my heart,
Soft to what He has in mind.

I am living in my time to keep,
A time of mourning too,
A time of waiting, and of longing,
A time of finding You.

And I will keep this time,
No matter how long I live,
I will keep these precious years,
That you alone can give.

What I Want

I have been thinking a lot about faith and works. What I say and what I do. This poem expresses the battle within. I want what I want, and yet I think we are seeking God. My evil heart, cling to my own answers. But this poem also expresses an answer of sorts. The Holy Spirit lives inside. He is working me out of my wicked self, and into Christ’s glorious image–what I was created for to begin with.  Crazy, beautiful thought!

I say I want what you want,
I say I believe you for good.
I say I trust you to know what’s best.
I say a lot of things.

But my hands hold tight
To what I have,
I want what I want,
Even as I say I want you more.

I cling to security,
The blessings you give.
I hope for the best,
And I think you’re OK with that.

After all, I want your help,
I want you to be close,
I want what I want,
But I want it from You.

Why do I feel empty inside,
When I pursue lesser goals?
Maybe I don’t know what I want.
I say a lot of things, but I don’t know a lot.

Maybe what I want doesn’t matter,
As much as I think it does.
Maybe what I want is a trap,
And I am too fallen to see.

My heart, so desperately wicked,
Tells me I am following you,
But I am like a man looking in a mirror,
I walk away and know not what I saw.

Your Spirit stirs me from deep within,
I don’t know the answer yet,
But I am beginning to see,
And I think I know what You want.

You want to carve my wants,
To shape my desires anew.
                                                                                                                                                                                            You want me to believe you for that,
to let you work me out.

I want what you want,
Don’t let me just say it,
Make me mean it.
I want what you want.

The Definition of Disappointment

It has been said that the disappointment is “the distance between expectation and reality.” I posted about that comment and how it relate to my life, but after I posted, God gave me the inspiration to write a poem about the paradox of joy that I live in what should be utter disappointment.

My expectations were so high,
They seemed good and pure and true,
I had so many aspirations,
So much I hoped to do.

My heart set a course,
A path I dreamed to trod,
I had so many aspirations,
Plans others would applaud.

My dedication was estimable,
I had grace, and hope and zeal,
I had so many aspirations,
So much spunk and appeal.

But expectations don’t always transpire,
Reality made a play,
I lost all my aspirations,
On that dark, and fateful day.

Into my loss and disappointment,
Came a truth of diamond fare,
When you cannot change reality,
Expect that God is there.

The distance between my expectations,
And my unchanging reality,
Is no longer disappointment,
But a chance to truly see.

The expectations I once grasped,
My strivings for a steady pace,
Were really a deterrent,
From seeing Jesus face to face.

Soaring Like an Eagle

Soaring like an eagle,
That’s how I long to be,
Yet I find myself clinging,
To my own security.

The wind whips bitterly,
As I strive to hold my ground,
On a cliff of uncertainty,
Afraid to fall and drown.

“Let go.” I hear You whisper.
But my heart is frozen in fear,
“I can’t let go!” I shriek.
“To all that I hold dear.”

Darkness engulfs me,
The storm rages stronger still,
“Let go.” I hear you whisper.
I release myself to your will.
I’m falling, no I’m flying,

Caught up and lifted high,
On your wings as eagles,
Strong and sure, I fly.

Carried by your mercy,

Held secure within your net,
I fly with total abandon,
When on You my hope is set.

Crooked Places and Hidden Treasures

The road I thought was straight,
The way ahead was clear,
Then before my eyes,
Its twisted curves appeared.
“To whom shall I go?” I cried.
“Who will straighten the path I trod?”
My heart ran wild with fear.
Till I heard the whisper of God.
“I go before thee, my child.
And I make crooked paths straight.
I will give you rest, dear one.
And hidden treasures as you wait.”
“O, Lord, I wait for you!”
“For your treasures my heart longs,
Give me rest my God, I pray,
Fill my soul with a new song!”

Yet no treasure was revealed,
The darkness shrouded my way,
I waited, and no light shone,
“Where are you, God?” I prayed.
“When will I see your face?
When will your treasures be mine?
How long must I wait for your promise?
O Lord, just give me some sign!
This sorrow is too great for me,
I no longer see my way through.
The pressures are too much to bear,
All I have left is you.”

Then into my darkness,
His precious voice came,
“My child, at last you can see.
I am the healer of the broken and lame.
All you need is me.
I am your straight path,
The hidden riches you seek,
I am your treasure,
I AM rest for the weak.”

Strangers in the Land of Plenty

Nehemiah 9:36 “So now today we are slaves in the land of plenty that you gave our ancestors for their enjoyment. We are slaves here in this good land….”

Oh, God you’ve given me all things,
Every blessing in high places,
Yet so many days are a wash,
As my selfishness erases,
The good work only you can do,
robbing me of power,
to live in the light of your goodness,
every moment of every hour.

I find myself again a slave,
Tho’ in the promised land,
in bondage to my own sin,
not resting in Your Hand.
A slave to this world’s demands,
and to my own desires,
choosing to be trapped,
in what my mind conspires.

A slave in the land of plenty,
How strange that it be so,
Please free my from this trap,
And cause my heart to know,
That all things from your hand
Are given richly for my good,
You cover me in Christ,
For in my place he stood.

You have created me anew,
Put your Spirit within me,
My heart finds rest in you,
No longer a slave, but free,
I worship in this land,
And fall down before your throne,
You are my pearl of great price,
I am free in You alone.

In the Waiting

Let me find you in the waiting,
Let me seek your face alone,
My whole being waits for you,
I lie prostrate at your throne.
Let me find you in the waiting,
O, Lord I’m desperate and afraid,
My hope is in you, my God,
On you my mind is stayed.
Let me find you in the waiting,
When I can’t see left from right,
When I see so little worth,
And I finally give up the fight.
Let me find you in the waiting,
Surrendered to your will.
Confident of your work,
I hear you whisper, “Peace, be still.”

Joy Comes in the Mourning

I wrote this poem almost a year ago. God was really working on getting the message through to me, that if my joy is in Him, I can be joyful even in the middle of my period of mourning. Daily I find that “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

Shards of my dreams scattered on the ground,
All my expectations crushed and dying,
Is there any hope left to be found?
My broken heart keeps crying.

Tears no longer satisfy the ache,
Sorrow too deep to express,
How much must I endure till I break?
When will I find blessed rest?

In the agonies of life, to whom shall I go?
I’ve no one, Lord, but you.
Even in this dire plight, I know.                                                                                                                                                                              Earth’s comfort never will do.

Surrounded by friends, yet alone in this pain,
I glimpse your precious trust.
From all of my loss new perspective I gain.
You love me, though I am but dust!

My hurt the window through which your love flows,
For though sorrow may last for the night.
Joy in the mourning you will bestow,
I find new hope in your light.

Choosing You

I wrote this just a short while after Joel was incarcerated. I have never written lyrics, but this poem, I felt, needed music. It still seems lyrical to me, but has never had any music put to it, since that is a talent far out of my league! Ah, well! It still speaks to me of what God has been teaching me.

No one chooses suffering,
But some may choose God’s will.
No one chooses anguish,
But a few will seek Him still.

No one wants the pain,
But some want Jesus enough,
To follow Him wherever,
No matter how long or how rough.

Lord, I cringe at my own agony,
But I long to see your face.
My heart says you know best,
So I find comfort in your grace.

I will chose your will,
No matter what the cost,
For you, Lord, I surrender,
And count all things a loss.

I will seek you now,
I will wait upon your grace.
in the midst of my groaning,
I will lift my hands in praise.

Dancing in the Rain

This is my most recent poem. I love rain! I have always loved rain. When I was a little girl, I used to lie awake and listen to its pitter patter on the tin roof. It’s one of my favorite sounds on earth. Even when we would get caught in a torrential downpour on the river, I couldn’t bring myself to disdain its stinging force. I just love rain.

Ironically, in the days after that fateful phone call, we had a lot of rain. I spent much of my time wondering the neighborhoods near my brother’s house where we were staying in the rain. I walked up mountain trails in South Dakota, where we vacationed for our last time as a family, in the rain.  It seemed to suit me–rain was my comfort.

Last year, my grandmother gave me a picture for my birthday with this quote: “Those who say only sunshine brings happiness, have never danced in the rain.” It described me so well! Only it’s not happiness I seek…It’s His eternal joy.

Sometimes a peace comes in the sorrow,
Sometimes a quiet in the midst of pain,
Sometimes a surge of hope springs in the darkest hour,
And I find I am dancing in the rain.

Sometimes compassion flows from need,
Sometimes purity replaces the stains,
Sometimes assurance takes root in uncertainties,
And I find I am dancing in the rain.

Sometimes a light shines in the darkness,
Sometimes a breeze fans the flame,
Sometimes strength rises from weakness,
And I find I am dancing in the rain.

Sometimes Your promises defy reason,
Sometimes Your comfort is my greatest gain,
Sometimes I know your there in my solitude,
And I find I am dancing in the rain.

Balance of Power

I wrote this poem several years ago, when thinking about the cost and value of freedom. I wanted to post it as we are celebrating our nation’s birthday this week.

Passion and power the play is for both,
In one tragic moment we become what we loathe.
Killing seems the only answer we find.
Still we mourn with great rancor what we’re leaving behind.
The play becomes monstrous, this game is for real.
Red runs the flow of steel against steel.
Dying is the dream, dying is the day,
There’s no denying the loss for the gain.

Dying is the passion, dying is the hope.
Honor is reaching the end of its rope.
Victory demands a wretched fee,
Paid in the blood of those who die to be free.
Painful is the path when fatal the blows,
For oft’ death feeds the seed from which freedom grows.

Yet in the midst of horror freedom calls clear,
“Don’t weep for me, or those you hold dear.
Rather weep at the thought of your vision denied.
Take courage and fight with new ardor and pride.
Painful is the path and costly for sure.
Many will give the last of their store.”

The road to independence is fraught with the fallen.
Yet with final breath they’re calling and calling.
“Don’t weep for us, or those you hold dear.
Rather weep for those who still live in fear.
Weep for the dream that is yet to be grasped.
Press on, remain strong. This soon will be past.”
War isn’t forever and dreams do come to be.
Those who press on will one day be free.

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