The Becoming

This poem grew from a comment I made the other day on a post on Heavensreef, a very encouraging blog I recently started following. 🙂

Now, it’s not what you’d call a traditional valentiny sort of piece, but, truly, what better love is there demonstrated than in His redemption of our lost souls? ❤

Query:

What were you before Jesus?

Answers circle, haunting truths

So heavy to carry.

Surprisingly daunting task, this-

How to describe what I was

And not lose sight of what now is?

Well, best to just begin, I concede-

Filthy hands had I,

So foolish and full of sickening pride,

Pawing desperately

After a love I tried to define.

Hardly kept a head above

Quicksand most days;

Crackling lungs scarcely held

More than shallow breath;

Fingers curling over

Broken strands of impending death,

Numbing to my own rapidly

Increasing decay.

Ah, but, one word could I rasp to the skies:

“Help.”.

In that moment, stretched out the Lord’s clasp to mine,

Pulling me free of my self-made muck,

Suddenly to solid ground I found myself,

Startled near to being thunderstruck.

Brought me to His river then,

And washed me pure within.

New garments was I given,

Royal robes fit for heaven.

And after?

Well, we’ll call that the becoming.

His truths started in to humming,

New and strange beats on my heart drumming.

Set out to learn this different rhythm,

Untried feet sometimes skipping,

Sometimes stumbling.

Yet, the travels with Him,

Dear companion God,

Are ever onward tumbling…

Oh, this becoming has been quite

A journey for me,

And He’s not done with me yet,

By any means.

Yet so grateful to see

Just how far His love’s brought me-

Long miles streak out behind

Like light-years of shifts and sighs,

From the life that really wasn’t life

To the life He intends there to be.

And one day, this becoming will

Become a became

And, at journey’s end, all the rest

Will fall away,

With nothing more left to do than

Simply bless His name…

Oh, friends, the wonder of the journey from the depths of sin to becoming like Him! There’s nothing like it. May you feel His love on this day and always. ❤ Thanks for reading. Blessings and prayers to you. 🙂

Fragments in the Dark Glass

A tidbit of my “handiwork” on textured tile in my bathroom, some as reflected through the mirror. ( The mural as a whole is a jungle scene of light and shadow.) Thought it was a photo uniquely suited to this poem.

Fragments lie jagged on the floor,
Puzzling till my puzzler’s sore. 😏
Does this piece fit there or here?
It just doesn’t always come clear.
Trust the provisional face
Of through the glass darkly, You Say;
All else will fall into place Someday…
Oh, Lord, grant that I might gain More patience
For the days of Your unfettered Presence!
I have You now, it’s true.
Who else could have breathed in me Life anew?
Yet, there’s the unseen I quest for, The unending, unhampered rest as Never before.
Knowing instilled in an instant;
All cares forgotten, banished to Farthest distance.

Longing rises up from deep within my thirsty soul.

So difficult to still the vocal one Within who scarce can surrender Control!

Lord, when, oh, when will I be privy to the answers for all time?! I cry.

Feeling foolish, but out the words do fly!

Ah, but, with tenderest eyes, He shines an unperturbed smile…

When the time is due, my child, He replies.

Yes, these days drag hard at the heart,

The earth is wild,

Infected, blowing wide apart.

But, the dawn is measuring its footsteps,

Preparing for completion of all the bright promises kept.

Fret not, little one.

At the rightest of moments,

My will be done,

Pieces will come,

Locked into My perfect precepts.

And, there you have it;

Fragments will fit when they fit.

No fast fix, this.

But, soothing nevertheless enters

In the heavenly emotional mix.

Longing still rises from deep within My soul,

But, learning all is best in Your control.

May we have a heart ever expectant of His return, but also one that ever rests in the trust of His control of our times! Blessings and prayers to you, friends and thank you for reading! 😊

Words Rendered Useless

Ok. Comments on. Still can’t understand the issue completely. Thanks for bearing with me! Blessings to you! ☺

Words.

Always seeking a perfect crafting.

Seems forever I am drafting…

How I love to weave you

In patterns enormously elaborate

Or whittle you carefully down to

Allow sparing truths to fit.

But, there are times when you

All but vanish,

Behaving almost as banished,

Leaving me with a nameless

Something

Stinging my tongue,

Though not painfully:

And that single, well-known melody alights itself

Softly, reverently…

Holy, holy, holy

Is the Lord God Almighty…

My heart surrenders to the phrase,

Rendered otherwise wordless

By the echo of endless praise

To come,

Of knowing and lifting Him high.

Oh, to embrace the ultimate sum

Of all our existence!

To freely fling my hands to the sky,

Ending all resistance!

To join in sinking to my knees

Before the throne,

To know this King

Loves me as His own!

To sink back in the peace,

To rejoice in the ceasing of

All my consternation,

And at last lay aside the

Mad scramble for

A poet’s perfection.

Words Rendered Useless

Words.

Always seeking a perfect crafting.

Seems forever I am drafting…

How I love to weave you

In patterns enormously elaborate

Or whittle you carefully down to

Allow sparing truths to fit.

But, there are times when you

All but vanish,

Behaving almost as banished,

Leaving me with a nameless

Something

Stinging my tongue,

Though not painfully:

And that single, well-known melody alights itself

Softly, reverently…

Holy, holy, holy

Is the Lord God Almighty…

My heart surrenders to the phrase,

Rendered otherwise wordless

By the echo of endless praise

To come,

Of knowing and lifting Him high.

Oh, to embrace the ultimate sum

Of all our existence!

To freely fling my hands to the sky,

Ending all resistance!

To join in sinking to my knees

Before the throne,

To know this King

Loves me as His own!

To sink back in the peace,

To rejoice in the ceasing of

All my consternation,

And at last lay aside the

Mad scramble for

A poet’s perfection…

My apologies for the comments not being on. I can’t seem to remedy the situation myself this time. At least, not at present. 🙄 I think this is becoming a problem for tech support! Blessings and prayers and thanks for reading at any rate! 🙂

Puffed Up

Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. Proverbs 16:18

A familiar verse. Seems cut and dried.

Don’t be proud. Don’t look down on others.

Destruction follows.

Right?🤔

Well, yes, but, there’s a bit more to it than that.

Because there’s different lights to take the word “pride” in.

There’s pride in our work-that which can cause us to excel and bring forth a product of highest integrity.

Pride in our children. This lovely shaping of another human life can spur on such smiles in a parent’s soul as they watch their loved ones blossom and grasp truths.

There’s also pride in our home, our service, our country…

Not all of this is necessarily bad.

I believe the Lord joins us in joy over something gone well. Zephaniah says He sings over His creation, after all.

If the Creator does that over us, might we conclude He extends a piece of such delight to our hearts as we see our endeavors come to fruition?

I tend to think so.

But, where this can go off the rails is in this-

When we go from glorying in what He has done for us and through us to self-congratulatory ego-stroking.

Then, we are in danger of swelling up like puffer fish, button-busting with what we start perceiving as success in our own power, growing so used to that feeling that we scramble for a convincing front to keep it going.

Our views consequently skew floating around in our own inflated sense of being. We forget to regard others as we ought around our expanded girth.

And, in that state, we are bound eventually to topple.

We see it in all walks of life.

From the neighbor prone to braggadocio to the social media darlings of self-promotion.

From our government to our entertainment to our churches.

Not to mention our reflection in the mirror, to bring it back home.

Ouch. 🙁

Something to think about for sure.

For the balance between joy in success and pride in ourselves can be precarious.

This is why everything- victory and struggle alike- must rightly and quickly be laid at the throne of God.

Not to be forgotten, of course.

Rather, to be brought into proper perspective.

To recall the phrase “Look what God has done.” over “Look what I’ve done.”.

Or, in the case of a struggle laid bare, “God’s got this problem.” versus “I’ve got no problems.”😏

For, when we are leaning into and celebrating with the heavens, our hearts are naturally centered, appropriately shaped and lifted in Him, rather than ourselves.

James 4:10 bears witness to this:

Humble yourself before the Lord and He will lift you up. emphasis mine.

May we recognize we can do nothing in our own strength. Rather, may we lay ourselves before Him in complete humility and let our joys in life rise through Him and Him alone.

Blessings and prayers, dear friends!

When It Feels Like No one is Listening

I have been in this place before.

Or, at least, places like it.

The halls are long and narrow.

The pictures austere compositions.

And the acoustics echo lonely heel clicks as I wander the cold square tiles.

I come to places like this when spirits sag, excessive words grow empty, or I honestly wonder what good l am actually doing.

Oh, but this isn’t necessarily the same as in the past.

It doesn’t feel like the usual precursor to a depressive episode.

Nor the drag of a lowering self-esteem.

Or even the melancholy I used to experience when I’d write my heart out and no one but the crickets were there to receive it.

No… rather, it is a deeper pondering of what I’m saying, whether it truly lines up with what God wants me to say, and how to proceed with it, especially when the listeners just don’t seem to be there.

I have to wonder if the Old Testament prophets had these moments.

Did they ever fear their messages were useless, or would be without an audience?

Not to mention did the thought of should there even be a desire for an audience ever enter in?

When does it become vanity, for example?

Well, I’m fairly sure they wanted someone to hear them in their lonely existence. I can’t imagine just how hard it was to deliver the messages they did to a largely hard-hearted nation.

I don’t exactly deal with that on the level they did, even with the state of our nation.

But, in order to share Jesus with others, I suppose I should hope someone is out there reading.

And to feel a camaraderie with my brothers and sisters in Christ here, there is nothing wrong with a desire for conversation through this avenue.

After all, He did call me back to blogging for the nth time in my stubborn little life.

It can’t be for nothing.

Can it?🤔

Yet, looking around here, I do have to ask God what this is all for?

I really do. I feel like one of those Old Testament prophets. Not that I could ever, ever presume to be on that level…

But, in that sense of feeling like I’m doing nothing more than shouting into a vacuum, I relate.

For the nth time in my blogging life, no less.

When will it not feel this way? Will it ever not feel this way?

Oh, not that I’m really torn up over it anymore. Too aware of how some of my own choices have affected my writing ventures for that.

But, Lord, really, isn’t it a waste of time, always asking me to write for…

Well, for next to no one?!

Nothing but my breathing in this skinny corridor answers for a moment.

And, then, comes the reminder right between the eyes:

Never. God says. There’s no waste where My glory is lifted high. No vacuums where higher purpose prevails.

And your purpose?

Like those who came before you, to take the words I’ve planted within you and give them back to Me.

Beyond that, what I do with them isn’t your concern.

Ah. That knocks the wind right out of me. I stop all the pacing down these eerily silent halls, arrested suddenly by the remembrance I am hardly alone in them.

Those seemingly austere pictures?

Portraits of those gone before, those who wrote what He directed without ever fully seeing the fruition of them.

And, more than that, He meets me there in the midst of it all, listening even when no one else seems to.