Worthless Pride

I haven't updated this blog in quite a while and I apologize for that...though I do not repent of it. I have been extremely busy and, though I wish I could have made time for this, I simply haven't been able too. Now I have a day off and wanted to post something. This poem is, I think, one of my better ones. It has always awed, and confused me, that God would choose brokenness and foolishness over strength and wisdom in those he calls to his service. Scripture calls us to be broken and I fear that, in modern Christianity, we have elevated brokenness to something that it is not...desirable. I subscribe this to the American culture of wealth and privilege. As a people we do not understand what it means to be broken and so we feel free to elevate this sorry condition to some lofty height, a thing to long for, to seek after, and to laud...but never find. However no one who has been broken desires to be broken again. Brokenness is NECESSARY for Godliness, but it is not desirable, it is painful, humiliating. Brokenness is akin to destruction, and in fact when a think is broken it is one step closer to being destroyed.
This is one of the great mysteries of scripture, that we become useful to God only after we have been broken, after we are no longer of use. Being broken forces us to rely on the Almighty, to trust him, to believe him, to follow him, because we have no other recourse. In this brokenness we become useful. It is a thing that is beyond me.

What pride have I
Standing now on mangled feet
Broken wings beat useless
'Gainst harsh winds of life

I am defeated
Trod down, destroyed
'Naught of use remains
Within my hollowed shell

And in this state of sorrow
You choose me, though
In the midst of pride that
Passed before, I held no value

Now, in my brokenness
I am made complete
In destruction I am whole
In emptiness I am useful

What sorry foolishness is this
That all worthy of pride
Should hold no value, but
The worthless becomes immeasurable?

Fairie Clouds

Relationships are difficult, I know this both from personal experience and from watching others. I know many divorcees, and a few people currently in the midst of that difficult position...decision...all of the above. The following poem is both about the hope for a new relationship to begin and for a broken relationship to heal. It attempts to bridge the divide between those who have always been single and those who are newly single. We are such wholly selfish creatures and it is so easy for us to forget that everyone else is not concerned about us first. We tend to ignore that which we have in favor of that which we desire and we so often forget that when it is a person who we ignore...we may not have them for long. Selfishness in all the myriad of forms it takes can easily destroy us, it takes from us those things we most value because it lies and tells us that they will always be available. Selfishness destroys lives because it leads us to believe that those self-same lives are the most important concern...it allows us to put our wants above other's needs and so we show them such little care. We destroy ourselves.

Two hearts beat as one
Blessed union then betrayed
By selfish similitude
Hearts separate and then, in time, return
Such is the course of life

Run aground on shores of wanting's wiles
Ever far removed from trust's wise pace
One heart beats a mournful tune, longing for his mate
While 'thother sings a wistful song,
'Membring her's as well

And here they sit, so far separate and yet the same
Hoping soon to meet their true desire
Though've never thought what such might be
So they wait and dream and pine,
Missing truth set before them

That such as they might hope to see
Is not truth, yet instead
Distant glamour made of shining dream
Such faerie dust as shrouds their eyes
Clouds all that truest love may hope to bring

May e'er such lovers meet?
Might their glistening eyes be opened yet?
Such will might be as fearfully strong
As world's oh so inviolable turn
But 'tis not true that weaker men have found?

Should glamoured heart then be freed
And clouded eyes be opened yet
Then those self-same eyes be free to see
Such love awaits as puts the dream to shame
And twin hearts be made beholden set

My Judgment

So...I'm honestly not really sure what to say about this poem...it just came to me one day...not really sure where from so I think I'll let it speak for itself.

Death sits astride a pale horse
And fires light his eyes
His baleful gaze sums us up
And clips the ties that bind
Then as we are wandering souls
As pale now as our white king
And following in one accord
His duties do we bring

This mortal verse, my heart protest
His sum should ne'er the full to know
For of his burning eyes and mind
The world has far too much to show

And know we then his fullest name
Should we choose to cry or sing?
We turn away and would not see
Such blessings he bestows
That we would ne'er accept
For fear of loss and life's release
That struggles end and fate decide
Whether I should know heaven's peace

Trees of Life and Love

I have no love life, this isn't a surprise to those of you who actually know me. I write about love, I desire it, I wait for the day when I'll meet my wife and woo her...however, when it comes to the female gender, I am prone to excessive shyness and a wholly undesirable lack of confidence. Sadly in most every other area of my life I am far more confident than I probably have any right to be. Nonetheless, I have no love life, so I write poems about what I would like to have, what I dream of, what I hope for...blah, blah, blah. This poem is actually inspired by one of my favorite Greek myths, it is a story of compassion and commitment, two of my favorite words.

Planted as a seed of hope
Love may grow a mighty tree
A shade under which we might sit
And blend our hearts together

This tree might reach thick roots
Deep into the earth, drawing up
The life-giving water of gentle union
Received through words of grace

Let those words fill my mind
Flow from my heart to my love
Filling our lives with worship
That our well might ne'er run dry

May love 'twine together
Two lives grow as one
These trees of living consciousness
Entwined in lover's embrace

Dawn

Here's another Haiku.

Rising with new day
Glories inescapable
Bring new life to me

Scripture

I love the word of God. It has unimaginable power, the recent movie 'The Book of Eli' did a good job of representing the scripture as being set apart. Gary Oldman's character Carnegie repeats several times the importance of 'having the right words' and that 'they will listen if the words are from the book'. The word of God has the ability to touch the heart, the mind, and the soul unlike anything else I have found. I have read the holy texts of a number of religions including The Book of Mormon, A few of the Hindu texts, The Holy books of Shinto, The scriptures of Tenrikyo, and Lao-Tsu's Dao De Ching among others. I have studied Greco-Roman, Norse, Japanese, and Hindu mythology as well as some Egyptian and Mesopotamian mythology. All of these contain interesting stories, sometimes they are emotionally touching, sometimes they contain wisdom or some seed of truth. However none of them can change the entire person the way Scripture can, none of them contain the power, the authority, or the understanding of humanity that is found in scripture. I love the word of God.

The word of truth
Sits on my lips
And never may recant

For this wondrous book
Of life and joy
My flawed heart doth pant

Its veracity unquestioned
Its flawless words
My life renew

Transporting me
To sweet release
With hope my soul imbue

This simple book
Held now in single palm
Has power yet unknown

To change mens' lives
And teach the wise
To, their understanding, hone

And falling then
From simple men
Precious words, like stars, alight

To draw the foolish
In time's tight grip
Into heaven's height

Freed from sin
And darkness now
By scripture's blessed word

Which from the lips
Of your kind
Messengers they've heard

And now we live
And choose to give
All we are to you

For from your word
The truth we've heard
And given it it's due

The Pride of Life

Everyone deals with pride, either because of their successes, because of their failures, or both. We all tend to view the world with ourselves at its center, it is the great delusion of humanity to believe that we are important. That, in and of ourselves, we matter. I have been considering lately the possibility that all value is extrinsic by nature, I may have mentioned this before. Regardless, we have no value in and of ourselves, what value we do have we hold simply because it is the will of God. Men and woman are given value because God finds value in us...as opposed to God finding value in us because we are intrinsicly valuable. I know, it seems a fine distinction, and yet of such importance. If we understand that we are valuable not because of us, but because of God then suddenly the kosmos is so much bigger, and our place in it so much smaller. The following poem was actually written to my pride, in a moment of anger and frustration at myself, please read it as such.

A nightmare settles behind my eyes
Its vicious requirements drain my life
Drawing upon my thought and breath
'Til there is none remaining within me
My dastardly heart has wrought betrayal
Its wanton desires lend power to the dream
A reality not present but for
This wrenching, pleading, obsequious need
That pulls upon the hems of my sanity
Cleverly disguised as righteous desire
It worms its way into my every action
Passing itself as love, as charity
As my own unabridged holiness
This delusion clouds my perceptions
Corrupts my actions and seeks only
The elevation of self, but at what expense?
And yet I see it not, for its subtlety
Now I name this beast which lives within my breast
This tired affront, I name thee pride.

What Was and What is to Come

We tend to forget the nature of our salvation. We are overwhelmed by the desperate need to earn that which we have been given. We are convinced of our own wickedness, which is completely true for we are desperately wicked creatures. However, our wickedness was taken into account in our salvation. Yet we never fail to find discontent in that which God has given. Unwilling to move out of our guilt and shame, which was set upon the shoulders of Christ, we feel ourselves unworthy. Having to prove our salvation once and again, in such ways that never allow for the true growth of higher minds into the children of God which we should now be.

In guilt we sit, mired in the darkness of the past
Yet forgetful of that great gift showered upon us
Mindful of our continuing sorrow for wrongs
Long ago committed in days of our lesser beings
We shy away from that greatness presently offered
As sons and daughters of God, certain we are undeserving
Of such monumental praise we stand forth
To denounce ourselves for the crimes of our former lives
Unheeding the notion that such grace as was given us
Requires no works of mercy, no stoic resolve of righteousness
For 'twas the gift that set our Lord upon the tree
Freely given and never earned, what once we were
No longer stands, as such, of any great, nor lesser, consequence
Excepting for the purposes of our own self-flagellation
Let us now step forward, mindful not of what came before
But instead of that which is yet to come, that our lives
Might be a sweetly fragrant perfume in the nostrils of God

The Old Man

We were all born to sin, we have carried it with us since the first day of our lives and will do so until the last. Christians are no different in this, we do not have some strange freedom from our sinful desires that magically allows us to overcome temptation whenever confronted. We do however have a choice, something that we never had before our salvation. As the sons and daughters of God we now have the right to turn away from sin and say 'no'. However this right is not easy to exercise, especially when all we once were cries out to again be ensnared by the coils of that which we long to escape. We may choose to refrain from sin, but this does not mean that we will choose to refrain from sin. Such is the source of our daily battle, the new nature against the old that we might daily die to self and allow Christ to live within us.

There is a wicked man
Who lives inside my mind
He seeks that which should not be
Those unholy acts of shame and guilt
Which drive down righteous lives

Beneath a starry sky of sin
This destroyer sleeps inside
Awaiting the day he may awaken
And devour my heart, my mind, my soul
Drawing them down into the maw of oblivion

That in this I might be lost
And he may finally be freed
To walk wickedly within my skin
Working in the world his dark will
That he should be magnified

Save me from myself
Strengthen my weary mind
Lift up my weakened heart
Cleanse my guilty soul
That I might be free

God

He has many names, Yahweh, Jehovah, Elohim, El-Shaddai, Adonai, Jehovah Rafa, Emmanuel, Christ. He has revealed himself to many men, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Joshua, Joseph, Samuel, David, Isaiah. He has worked his will in the world throughout history and, indeed, is the ultimate author of history. The almighty God is ultimate to all that was, all that is, and all that will be. Scripture tells us that 'by him and for him all things were made.' This is another poem which attempts to honor who he is with meager words, all that we have to offer can never grasp the nature of an infinite God.

Behold he who spread the tapestry of the sky
Who, with mere words, gave the world its girth
Who writ his will upon the tablet of the earth
And sits now enthroned in the heavens on high

He judges the affairs of men, for he is the mighty God
A glorious magistrate, the maker of all history
His full nature hidden in infinite mystery
Yet, as a simple man, this humble world he trod

Behold Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Lord of all that is
He stands in glory, unified in oh so holy trinity
Greatest of all gods, single in his true divinity
The heavens, the earth, and all that dwell within are his

So stand we now in praise, and with our hearts we worship do
This great and mighty God, who glories in his holy name
And so with humble words we shall increase his sacred fame
Praising name of holy grace and with such wisdom we our words imbue

Darkly Natured

I have put up a couple of poems expressing various aspects of the wickedness of man's nature. This is another in that series, this poem highlights our tendency towards greed and the pride that drives it. We tend to hold on to the idea that we consistently deserve more than we have. Whatever it is that we do have we can never consider it to be enough, instead we always push on, looking for more, trying to take what we don't have, whether by legitimate means or otherwise.

Blood sticks upon my hands
As mighty Mammon strides across my mind
His great blade sweeping away before him
All those upon whom fall his burning eyes

Black fires rage across my thoughts
Oily smoke rising from long burnt flesh
And through this smoke I lead you, my child
Across the fields of my forsaken ideals

My only child, my beloved, I shall consume your mind
And sacrifice your purity upon the altar of greed
For I am Avarice and Pride
The beating heart of man

Death from Life and Life from Death

First of all if there are typos in this then please forgive, I sliced open a finger on a broken glass today and it has affected me ability to type as speedily and correctly as normal.
My salvation was...unusual to say the least. I make no secret of the fact that before I was saved I was 'a bad person', God did not get a hold of my heart through a message, or a book, or even a friend, though all of these had their influence...in fact God did not really get a hold of my heart at all. At least, not at the point of my salvation, that came significantly later.
When I was saved it was a matter of surrender. I did not love God, but I could not fight him any longer. I gave up and gave my life to him, I suppose this is why the comparison of Christians as the slaves and belongings of God is so important to me personally.
This poem reflects some of that attitude of unwilling surrender to a divine and loving savior.

Exhaustion fills me, draws upon my mind
Leading to wicked desires of every sordid kind
And all my good and godly will do such desires bind
Leaving within me no joy for any man to find

My eyes have closed, my heart has stopped
And now my flesh begins to rot
Living death or dying life, neither have I sought
But one has found, the other claimed, with blood my soul's been bought

So this life I lead is not my own
Nor breath, nor blood, nor solid bone
Within me seed of righteousness was sown
And now, through time and trial, has it grown

Now such wickedness my mind does flee
Night flows away and now the light I see
Hope renewed and joy as well in such divine decree
Chains of shame strike the ground and I find that I am free

Prayer

So often I find myself concerned with everything this world has to offer, I ignore God in order to focus on me. It is such an easy trap to fall into, especially through prayer. How often do I see my own wisdom, my own wants, my own hurts as being all-important, as standing before everything else. I pray to God and ignore his wants, his desires, his intentions, because the only thing I can think about is what I want. This is the gist of the following poem.

Who am I to speak to you
To call upon your name and ask for you my will to do
To raise my hands in arrogant supplication
Demanding from you unjust reparation
That my own selfish needs might be sated
My self-glorifying wants be thence created
Though my deepest needs I know are few
And, so oft, ignoring them; I, with need, my wants imbue
So little ever caring for my eternal destination
Seeing in it no convenient present application
Now my own eternal destiny I have hated
And though, for Christ, to heaven I am fated
I fall low and fear this is not my fairest due
But knowing I stand upon the rock, knowing Christ is true
That with him I shall have my eternal habitation
And hope in death to find, though undeserving, commendation
Now, in this life, though I do better know, my thoughts are jaded but then
In eternity I shall find the righteousness for which I've fought and waited

A Healing Way

This is another poem that I wrote for a friend's birthday.

Compassion's spark doth lead the way
A peaceful, healing touch to follow
Joyful repose compassion brings
And in it's absence life is hollow

Loving grace on life descends
Leading the way to living light
Bitterness a long distant memory
Lost in mercy's graceful flight

Life's cares are e'er present
New worries always looming
The joys of life may fade away
A wilting rose ne'er blooming

When worry doth o'erwhelm
The father's trust remind
This world is but a misting glance
The truth the veil behind

Power of Eternal Death

This is actually a poem written for one of the people groups in the fantasy world in which I write short fiction. The people group are very dark, worshipping a very dark, bloody god. They are the single most influential power in this world, though they do not rule the world or any such thing, but they do command a large empire the effect of which can be felt across the world. This poem, 'written' by a fictional poet within the world who has yet to be named shows the people groups emphasis on and obsession with death.

Death succumbs to death
Darkness closes with the night
And the pit drinks me in
To drown within the void

Soiled blood for power drawn
Lines of worshipful cant
Renewing the force
Of death's ample grasp

Polished bones stand at dignified attention
Awaiting the silent bidding of war
Stentorian roar and battles clangor
Offer no detriment to death's embrace

Glinting white beneath the sun
Silent but for armor's metallic grate
Bone and iron marches forth
To stain the blazing sand with blood

Death ever follows after blood
That dark dragon drinking in the dusk
Lesser beings fall beneath the tide
Of war's eternal remembrance

The arms of men and giants
Hold no power against our god
Great Sehalel marches on before
And ever after follow the Neshelim

Circle of Hope

We all have times of doubt, times of depression, times when we are wonder about the goodness of God, or the fairness of life. At times it seems as though God is tormenting us, that he laughs at our despair and scoffs at our fervent prayers for release or blessing. It can be very easy to doubt God's goodness, and even his kindness and justice. However those of faith always, inevitably, return to that point of trust. When the time comes to choose, do I trust God to work this out or to I leave him to the side and do it myself those of faith, in the midst of their doubt and concern, decide to trust God, not because it is easy, but because it is right. This poem seeks to show the emotional nature of this cycle.

Woeful new and tragedy beride my tired mind
As reasons siren call my fraught desires bind
And summons forth cold faculty to leave my heart behind

What rampant waste desires bring and leave behind such ash
All sought upon the burning plain and under heats harsh lash
And through all he stands above filled with glee, my striven hopes to dash

Such cruel enmity I've earned that drives to this despair
And sets upon the face of God such spiteful mask of care
That sends this sodden soul to look to hope and tarry there

That when this soiled hope is then unmasked and of a sudden dies
My helpless heart, yet innocent, is struck, then riven, and calcifies
Then he stands unveiled, masks removed, revealed in his lies

And yet I ask, but what if I am so completely wrong?
May I know my fate? So certain the he should laugh at that for which I long?
Might he not, instead, sate my need in his good time and so bring me to song?

And so to hope I then return, though foolishly, cruel mask or maybe not
For this poor unworthy soul is not yet that which to be I ought
And perhaps I must show forth true trust that you shall gift to me my lot

Failures

So, I write Haiku sometimes, or at least I try my hand at writing Haiku. This several months ago and it kind of displays how I feel about my life right now.

In peaceful repose I sit
Contemplating many failures
Hoping to correct them

Vagaries of Hope

I actually wrote this for a friends birthday. Originally I wasn't going to post it, thinking that it would somehow make it less special or less personal or something. However after rethinking this I realized that it probably should, and hopefully will, be viewed as an honor.

Joyful lived taken in beautiful symmetry
Hopeful enthusiasm exudes delight
In dying light a fire breaks
To bring a new day's wondrous sight

Though joy may give way to sorrow
And bring regrets unknown
Trusting minds and loving hearts
Can heal pains o'er ages grown

Though fickle life pain may bring
Unpredictable in crashing waves of vicissitude
Trust to hope and gracious plans of God
That ancient ways still a power hold

Pain will pass and in it's wake
Trust and love and faith shall spring
For ever doth great El Shaddai
See patient plans take wing

The Fate of Man

So, I had in mind the ultimate fate of sin, and the fact that it is a thing which we, as men, so richly deserve. With that in mind the following is what appeared upon my mind, then flowing through my pen onto the pages of my notebook, then to be transcribed onto my computer and finally posted here...forgive me if I wax dramatic.

The infinite gesture of man disgorge
An unseemly variety of selfish desires
Which challenge the borders of propriety
And draw man into the depths of sinful commission

These vagrant, silent solicitations portend
Man's so rightful fate of infernal torment
Lest he bend his knee in submitting supplication
To he whose right it is to judge the fate of souls

Precious Words

I love the scriptures, the word of God is amazing in its depth, its precision, its veracity, and its broadness. I consider myself fairly widely read, and I have read many good book and many deep books, but I have never, NEVER found anything that even comes close to matching the scriptures even in basic literary value. However, when one studies the history of the scripture, the culture from which it arises, the personalities who wrote it. It brings an entirely new life to the scriptures. I read Peter and his exhortations to find joy in suffering and am encouraged. However when I study history and learn that, at the time of writing, the Christian church was in the midst of one of the worst persecutions it knew in its early life, that Christians were killed, often on a daily basis; when I learn that the man who wrote this was martyred, reportedly requested to be crucified upside down because he was not worthy to die like Christ...now I read his writings, I read his words about suffering and I am no longer encouraged...I am awed. I know of no sufficient excuse for a Christian to avoid these studies, because they allow us to see the true worth of the book which we have been given. That is the theme of the following poem.

Forgetful minds and fainting hearts
Arrest the hope of joy
Drawing from themselves such resolved surety
That blessings are not for them

Added to this sorrowful lack
Of any such precious understanding
Which provides insight to these awesome truths
As are revealed in his true word

Such learning grants vivid life
To printed letters lain upon the page
That the mind becomes quickly lost
In the glory of their revelation

Drawn in, filled, fully and finally satisfied
By the mighty words of this sacred book
The mind stands renewed, the soul restored
Ready to step forward into new life

Love and Longing

Well, looking back at my recent posts its been a week or two since I posted a love poem...or anything particularly uplifting...I'm afraid that my new job has not been good for my opinion of the human race, or of the church. Anyway, this is an older poem, well...its a couple of months old anyway, and I hope that this can break some of the 'people are evil and no one loves God' monotony that I seem to have fallen into.

The pale gaze of a love's sweet glance
A longing for that fragrant scent
A whispered word, a soft caress
To release desire so long pent

Love cannot help but look to hope
To see it's tree of life take root
In ancient ways love finds its soul
In ages past vast wisdom to loot

I see your face and find my heart
The seat of this most ancient desire
Within your eyes my mind is gone
My vaunted reason fails to respire

Love is rarely reasonable but never wrong
It knows no excuse and seeks no recompense
The power of the storm gentled by compassion's caress
Mind would follow heart, and hope not be slave to sense

Fallen Desires of Man

So, I have heard, seen, and read a great deal of 'Christian' teaching which I would consider to be clearly heresy. I believe that one of the most common/widespread heresies in the modern day is the Prosperity Gospel movement, this has also been called the Health and Wealth gospel. It is clear that those who preach this gospel have not read, or have chosen to willfully ignore, the scriptures and they seek to gain converts through lies and false promises. This movement seems to be more about numbers and money than anything else, at least that is what I see in it.
However, more than this, I am forced to wonder whether or not a person can truly be saved under such a ministry. Something I have been thinking about recently it what, theologically speaking, the minimum of correct belief is for a person to be a Christian. Let me give an example of this, I believe that it is evident that a person need not believe (in fact need not even hold an opinion) in a particular view of the temporal progression of the end times in order to be saved (in other words a person can be a Premiller, Postmiller, or Amiller and still be saved), however if a person denies the full divinity or the full humanity of Christ then I must wonder what god he/she has believed in.
At any rate, the following poem was written in response to dealing with several ardent followers of the prosperity gospel.

In plight we seek the hand of God
Forgetting always his name to laud
Concerned only with the needs of flesh
For wealth and love and new body a fresh
Ignorant of God's good and holy work
Uncaring for life's shadows in which sin might lurk
We call upon the great almighty God
Under summons of charismatic fraud
Our selfish whims and imagined need
To grant to us with hastened speed
And then his word we deign ignore
His truest ministers we deem a bore
In his perfect plan we find much fault
Ne'er understanding its full gestalt
Seeing only our short-sighted want
God is imagined as some mystic font
And then we turn our face away
Unwilling such great price to pay
So unable to true disciples be
Such will his kingdom never see
But fall all unawares to lowest pit
This in his word is clearly writ
So let all those who seek this path
Fear his burning eyes and greatest wrath
And turn away from their selfish hoard
Seek instead the Christ as both savior and almighty Lord

Final Day's

Well, this poem is really more of an experiment than anything else. The theme is, obviously, the time of the rapture, followed by the tribulation. Ultimately I was playing around and practicing rhyming on a theme and this is what came out. I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with it, I've changed a couple of the lines once or twice, but it's not bad.

Death releases now from debt
And fire burns the world clean
Chaff is burned, as is regret
And from sin the world he will ween

Darkness covers day's regretful sting
And ever summons up sinful desire
The Lord a final cleansing flame will bring
To light the dark and burn sin's wicked briar

In final day's and light's last glance
Regret on the tongue sits sweet
Rise we will to heaven's great romance
As in the air the Lord we'll meet

Drawn from sinful world's mire
Freedom we will know
As pitied world burns on sinful bier
Ever with the Lord we'll grow

Selfish

We are wholly selfish beings. There is an ongoing philosophical debate as to whether or not altruism is actually possible for the human being. For those who do not know, altruism is most simply defined as 'doing something positive for another with no potential for gain to oneself.' It is the idea of sacrificial love. The problem being that even when we do something good for another with no apparent gain, or at least no physical gain, we still have the emotional gain of feeling good about ourselves. Doing good brings good feelings, positive self-image, pride, due pride but pride nonetheless. All of these things could easily be considered gain, or so the argument goes, and therefore altruism is not possible unless these emotional rewards are removed from the equation. Personally I tend to agree, I have known to many people who did good in order to feel good about themselves, rather than from genuine care for the other persons situation. As I said, we are wholly selfish beings, even in our goodness we seek self-gratification and, through this, even doing good can become a destructive addiction.
I am forced to wonder what it is about us that drives us to twist even that which should reveal our best, and change it into something that reveals our worst. The only answer I can find is sin. Like a plague it stalks through history, the most dangerous disease in existence for it is 100% contagious and has a 100% mortality rate, and every human being is sick at birth. This poem is devoted to our selfishness, to the endless wants that seem to drive our every action.

There is no life but that which seeks itself
Always yearning after pride
Never seeking God's infinite grace

It drives upon itself
Always striving for ambitious gain
Never releasing to his perfect will

Ever seeking their own pleasure
The living cry out continually
Give me more, Give me more

For there is no satisfaction
No sufficient filling
To encompass our unending need

The Way of Christ

So, anyone who knows me knows that I love Star Wars...really love is perhaps not strong enough a word, my interest borders upon obsession and has, at times, reached unhealthy heights. This is not one of them.
In the Star Wars universe there are two predominant religious groups, the Jedi (whom anyone who has seen the movies knows well), and the Sith (who are somewhat more of a mystery). Each of these religious groups has their own code, a short bit of verse written to espouse the orders particular philosophy towards life (no I'm not going to quote them for you).
I mention all of this so that I may explain the following poem, this poem was inspired by the codes of the Jedi and Sith (neither of which is particularly Christian, the Jedi being distinctly Buddhist in flavor while the Sith are distinctly humanist). The following is the Way of Christ, my attempt to espouse what it means to follow Christ in a equally short and poignant bit of verse.

My strength is a lie, I have only weakness
In my weakness I am broken
To brokenness is added pain
By pain I am made to grow
Through growth I am brought to maturity
In maturity I see his strength
It is the Lord that makes me strong

Hope and Rememberance

I have been in love before...occasionally I have even been loved in return...and currently I am not. This is the prompting behind the following poem, the remembrance of love. Though hope is not actuality and remembrance is not present it has a great hold on the present.

Passion colored by remorse
Sighs deeply at the lover's fate
As remembrance allays the need for joy

Sighing, evermore to sleep
In dreams to find hope
And once more feel love's embrace

Although peace is lost
In contemplation of love's cruel fate
Fond remembrance remains

Needful Things

Yes, I stole the title from Stephen King...sort of...anyway, instead of trying to explain this poem, or set a background for it, I am going to let it speak for itself...because I think it does.

Depart the deadly swarm
Of life's endurance lost
And sudden fickle fate
Of ever failing faith

Weakened thus by life's long woes
Fallen wisdom yearns for dark release
Withheld by prodigious will
'Til such time as desire
O'erwhelms those solid walls
And crumbles certainty to dust

When thence released
Such sordid need consumes the heart
Devours the mind and feeds on flesh
Drawing all life into itself
Until, having consumed the last,
Wasted soul falls dead
Victim of lust's eternal hunger

Let such vile need be put away
Along with man's weak and faltering will
And the heedless faith of mindless religion
Let each man take up his cross
Walking worthy of God
In true, enduring, unfailing faith
Supported not by fitless ritual
But standing upon sacred covenant
Writ in the blood of Christ
Shed upon the tree

Power in a Name

We see in scripture that God's name has great power. Of course when one looks at the history of magic (and I am going to wax eloquent on the esoteric for a moment here) one finds that the belief in names has a long and rich history. Many cultures believed that certain names held great spiritual power, and/or that knowing a things 'true' name gave one power over that thing. Alternately there is a history, especially in the Hebrew magical tradition, for using names of power to invoke spiritual authority over the world. We see one example of this in the book of Acts when the seven brothers attempt to use the names of Jesus and Paul to invoke magical authority over a demon...which proceeds to beat on them, strip them naked, and send them running. Similarly, according to Hebrew legend, King Solomon used a magical ring and the 'true' names of 224? (may have 222 or 227...it was two-hundred and twenty something) demons to control them and build the Temple of God. The names of these beings are recorded in several magical texts.
Ultimately we know that the spiritual authority lies not in the name but in the being which holds the name and the relationship behind it. In the Christian tradition we pray 'in the name of Christ' and we cast out demons 'in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit' or 'in the name of Christ' etc. The theological connection here should not be missed, when we pray we pray to God through the intermediary of Christ, 'in the name of Christ.' However it is not the name which has power but the being which holds the name the relationship I have to that being. Suffice it to say that while there is power in the name of God it is not the power of the name, but the power of God to whom the name belongs.

What meaning has a name
What power may it hold
Does its glory bring great fame
Does its nature make one bold

What meaning has a name
What glory my it grasp
That its greatness may ignite, inflame
And your majesty might clasp

What meaning has a name
What wonder may it clutch
To drive a man to heedless blame
And lend his mind to sin's dark touch

A greatness lies in God's good name
Majesty in man's words indescribable
For this good thing Christ came
To bathe your name in glories indecipherable

Problems of Prayer

Well, here we go again...no really, this poem is, again, stemmed from experiences on my current job. Being exposed so much to the way we, as Christians, pray I realize how often we put ourselves at the center of our Christian walk and how little concern we really have for God.

We walk before the throne
Presenting all to selfish need
Inglorious desires within us grown
Paying almighty God little heed

Convinced that, in holiness, we stand
Our prideful worth, by our arrogance, assured
Never are we guided by his holy hand
But instead our haughtiness we gird

Thinking nothing of our self-serving notions
We listen not to God's good will
Ever guided by oh so fickle emotions
Our own self-made plans we seek to fill

In bitter egotism we lie
Assured of our self-made righteousness
For his blessing, but not his will, we cry
Having no other concern in our unending pridefulness

The Third Day

So, I've posted a number of poems drawn from the less...desirable sides of human nature lately, I thought that I would take a break from talking about what terrible people we are and talk about something else. The following poem is, obviously I think once it is read, based on the resurrection morning. The poem emphasizes the necessity of both the resurrection and the cross. I had someone ask me the other day why a bodily resurrection was necessary.
My answer was this, if Christ was 'resurrected' as a spirit without a body then he is a ghost, not a living man. If he is a ghost then he is not resurrected, he has not defeated death, he has not defeated sin, and his sacrifice has no meaning. The sacrifice of the cross paid the debt for sin, but we are only free of sin if Christ is stronger than sin and death, greater than the grave. If he was not resurrected bodily then sin still controls our souls, the devil still works his will in us and we are not free in Christ. That is why the resurrection matters.

Glorious morn arises
Dawn of blessed day
When stone was rolled aside
And angels stood in place to say
To man and beast and bird and stone
Christ the king, today is risen
No longer lies in yonder tomb
Death defeated, the sins of man forgiven
'Pon simple wood spilled blood
Of oh so perfect sacrifice
Both man and God in perfect union
This divine blood shall then suffice
The debt of sin which upon the world lies
Cursed, poisoned, and all in eternity to die
Paid in full, rendered thus in blood
Defeated stands the prince, power of the sky
Arise, Arise this glorious morn
Day which changed this cursed world
Your name be praised your will be done
And over all your banner then unfurled

Where Lies Faith

The last few poems I have posted have been, admittedly, rather critical. I would like to note that I have not, in any way, intended to hold myself above this criticism and have attempted to explain how much of myself I see in the issues about which I am writing. The following poem is, I suppose, the flip side of the coin. The few people I have seen of genuine faith, who understand their position before God and accept, at times gleefully and at times begrudgingly, that their lives belong to him and there is no freedom in pursuing worthless religion. I hope, though I am certainly unsure, that I more often fall into this group of people rather those formerly discussed. I have once again attempted to make this poem reminiscent of the psalms, as they are amazing and often an inspiration to me.

My hope stands not in flesh and blood
Nor steel, nor wood, nor stone
I stand complete in the Lord my God
He who formed the earth
In the bowl of his hands the world took shape
From the word of his mouth its majesty was made

Let no one say I trust in man
For man is but a fleeting gasp
A wind that gusts and dies
My trust is firmly set and stands upon the rock
Of unremitting love and promises ne'er broken
Which issue from my Lord's kind lips

My peace lies not in this world
Nor sleeps in hearts of weak and willful men
The majesty of God on high
So easily o'erwhelms all the earth may give
I am stranger and alien, foreigner, visitor
And shall, some hopeful day, make my way home

Religion In Modernity

This is another poem written from feelings developed working at In-Service America. Although these issues came to my notice long before that they have only recently coalesced in my mind. The issue is this, we tend to believe what we want to believe, what we have been taught and what makes us comfortable. We do this without understanding or defensibility, we do not understand what we believe and often we would rather not understand it lest we feel convicted to stop believing it. One example that rises to mind is the issue of the perseverance of the saints, that is to say that once you are saved you are always saved no matter what. Some time ago I was discussing this with several friends, on my side I was presenting arguments for the possibility that one can (while not lose persay) walk away from one's salvation. This issue is a touchy subject with many people who have never spent any time studying it (I am currently unsure where I stand on the issue and am still putting time into studying the scriptures on this issue and the history of theological belief concerning it).
However the point was that there was very little argument against my points, simply outrage, I paraphrase one of my friends as saying 'Well, I believe that you can't lose your salvation and that's what I've always believed. I don't need to know why I believe it, I just believe it.' This is a sentiment that I have seen all to often, especially while working at In-Service America on the part of those who call in. The scriptures call us to study hard to be 'workmen approved, rightly dividing the word of truth.' This does not say that we should simply 'believe the right thing' but that we must understand what the right thing is and pursue knowledge and understanding about it. Please not that my problem with the person paraphrased above was not that person's belief. While I am struggling with it I believe that the idea of 'once saved always saved' is fully defensible from scripture and has strong rational and theological backing. My issue with that person was the lack of knowledge on the issue. Said person did not, COULD NOT, defend said person's belief (if this sounds awkward I am trying to keep this as generic as possible so as not to reveal said person's identity, I do consider said person a friend). It is the lack of care that haunts me, if we do not care to understand what we believe then I must ask, can we truly claim to believe it?
That being said, here is the poem.

In infancy we raise our heads
Ever refusing in life to grow
We retain our suckling need
For misunderstandings to be indulged

Inordinate defensiveness sits upon our malaise
And we retain our childish need
For wishes to be granted, falsehoods accepted
And foolishness to o'erride all else

Truth the enemy becomes
For it defeats our childish notions
Lays bare our foolish conceptions
And calls us to such higher purpose as we alone cannot bear

For in our foolishness we trust in our own strength
Rely upon our failing human understanding
Looking not to that which is above all
To that impenetrable wisdom which flows down from the divine

Walking On Water

The story of Christ walking on water is one of the most beloved stories in the gospel. The most important part of this story, for my personal life, not from a theological perspective, is Peter's failure to walk. Many times in my life I have felt like Peter, he is the biblical character that I feel closest to. In this story I understand his drowning, I am very familiar with feeling overwhelmed, like I am drowning and there is no escape. This is not to say that I feel overwhelmed by the difficulty of life, but instead by what I often perceive as the pointlessness of life. We do so many things and it seems as though we make no difference in the world. While I am now attempting to do more (such as writing this blog) I still often have difficulty believing that it will matter. There is so much of life, of existence, that feels like a waste of time to me that I often want to walk away from it all, live on a mountain, and do nothing. This poem reflects this feeling, and this story, which would by why I brought it up.

Dark tides o'erwhelm
As strength fades
Under beating of heavy waves
And I sink down beneath the sea
My mind is gone
My heart is lost
And I have not breath
To reach the surface
I drowned in darkness
Lost to thought and hope
And I plead with you
To raise me up
Set me upon the surface
And teach me once again to walk
Be the strength that I am lacking
The heart that I have lost
The hope that no more shines within my eyes
That I may serve you Lord
That all my life will please you
And by your blessing I might dwell

Failed Blessing

Recently I have been working at a certain company (whisper, whisper...In-Service America...whisper, whisper) taking calls for certain psuedo-Christian ministries (whisper, whisper...Daystar and Trinity Broadcasting Network...whisper, whisper) which will remain nameless, unless some typist, surely not myself because I would never risk my job in such a blatant way, places their names in this post. Regardless of the teaching that is put forth in their variously named telethons (whisper, whisper...which is clearly the heretical work of false teachers...whisper, whisper) it is the nature of the callers which inspired this, and a few other poems. Let me say first that praying for people for 12 hours straight is extremely draining and difficult. This is redoubled by the fact that one is exposed to the truest nature of 'Christian' prayer. That is to say that, in its modern incarnation, prayer is an extremely selfish thing. Even removing those who fall for the clearly heretical teaching that one can bribe God, or that if one 'agrees' that God must do something then he is required to do it, the vast majority of prayers fall into one of three categories. These categories being 1) I want money 2) I want healing and 3) I want companionship. Notice that the first two words in all of these are the same.
In an entire week of working 7-12 hours a day just praying for people I can count on one hand the number of people who asked me to pray that God would work his will in their lives...this amounts to hundreds...possibly thousands of calls...with less than five (actually all of three...I remember each of them) who just wanted to follow God. Now don't get me wrong, I believe that God can and will care for us, that he will provide for us and even that, sometimes, he provides miraculous healing. However we follow God in these things, he does not follow us. I have to admit that I have been forced to look at my own prayer life because of this, it has challenged me on an extremely personal, and uncomfortable, level. Ultimately I am forced to wonder if this is all that prayer in modern Christianity has amounted to...give me this, give me that, oh, oh, and that one too.
I have been disgusted and ashamed by what I have seen over the past week, I must admit that I have also been rather fiercely angered. I honestly can't count the number of times I have had to stop myself from praying imprecatory prayers over my callers. Asking God to smite them down and punish them for their selfishness, of course the simple reminder that I tend to be just as selfish has helped to curb this bloody minded tide. Nonetheless, I have been angered to an exceeding degree. All of this has been, as mentioned, the impetus for several poems, of which this is one.

Blessings rain upon the heads of men
Gone unnoticed by our haughty eyes
Holy boon cast aside
When failing to meet selfish expectation

Painful blessings go undesired
Though through them we become mature
For they fail to human arrogance
And the lustful needs of fleshly minds

In all we are and love and seek to do
We drown the holy in mundane tragedy
All the completeness of my mind and heart
Focused on the greatness of my glory

The Rock Weeps

I am an insular person by nature, untrusting and suspicious. I am uncomfortable around people and I do not easily let them into my life. I much prefer being the consular than the consulee, though I have done my share of both. The problem with this is that at the same time that I am so cautious about letting people really know me I deeply desire to be known and understood. This often comes out in odd ways, off-hand comments, questions that are simple yet complex, awkward attempts at building friendships that most often end in confusion for all involved and frustration for me. I think that I feel much more free writing here and opening myself, such as I am at any rate, because the internet is relatively anonymous. I will probably never know who has read this and will certainly never see most peoples reaction to these words. My inmost nature is surrounded by successively higher walls of cynicism, sarcasm, morbidity (though some of that is an expression rather than a defense), and intellectual elitism. I do all that I can to hide myself, and I often do it without even trying. That being said...I constantly try to bring down these barriers, usually unsuccessfully, and always seek for people who are willing to do the work it takes to climb over, push through, and break down my many walls. This poem is an expression of both that insular nature and the desire to be known.

I stand unreached
And yet refuse to move
I am the rock

There is naught
That may touch me
Through armor wrought of stone

I guard the borders
Of my small state
Refusing entry to all

For I have no need
Of friendship's grace
Nor love's bittersweet rewards

I am alone
I stand unto myself
Longing for compassion's touch

Will You Be Mine

We are, at least most of us, looking for someone to share our lives with. However there is so much involved in that simple statement. To truly move into another person's life can be a terrifying thing, as can trusting them to move into your own life. The amount of trust involved, the scale of the pain risked, cannot be overstated. When we enter into relationship we open ourselves to, not the possibility, but the certainty of pain. Not only this but we mold ourselves around another person, becoming, in many ways, what they desire and hoping, trusting, that they in turn will become what we desire. This poem, again written to a woman that I do not yet know (or at least if I do I don't know that I know her...confused yet), asks the simple question presented in the title. Will You Be Mine, with all that that entails. A question at once exciting and terrifying both to ask and to answer.

Will you walk with me
Daily take my back
As new worries pile
Ever higher upon the old

Will you stand with me
Ever staying at my side
Fight my fight, run my race
E'en though we look sure to lose

Will you run with me
E'er keeping pace with my stride
Whether slow or fast I run
Will you, at my side, remain

Will you live with me
Daily giving your life for mine
While I as well give my own for you
Life for Life, made one by eternal union

For if you will adventure waits
Hope and joy and pain in unity entwined
Love and life united now as one
Even as our two selves combine

Judgment

So...this poem is about the final judgment. It is not entirely correct because, theologically, the final judgment is, commonly among Premillenialists at any rate, split into two parts. These parts being the Great White Throne Judgment and the Bema Seat Judgment. One of these will be for Christians who have been saved by the blood of Christ and the other will be for non-Christians who are, unfortunately, doomed to hell. In this poem I focus not of the theological exactness of the Premill understanding of the final judgment but instead on the idea of the Lord as judge of the dead. So, leaving aside certain theological intricacies I have attempted to evoke a response in the reader to the greatness of the Lord, his worthiness as a judge, and the difficulty that judging the guilty entails.

Death follows life
As suredly as winter to the fall
The natural cessation of our worldly woes
In freedom souls fly from fleshly cage
To await final judgment
A white throne and sat upon it
A Lord in all his glory, blazing eyes
To judge the righteous and the wicked
A word and then quick gesture
That to know or sadly not
And then set to eternity
For life's just consequence

Awaiting Death

Let me say first of all that I am not suicidal. I don't want to give that impression. That being said I believe that every Christian should have a certain, healthy, longing for death and the rewards that follow. Paul said, and I've used this verse before, 'life is Christ and death is gain.' The New Testament is replete with the notion that death is not something to be feared but something to which we may look forward. Along with this notion that death is a blessing we have the unshakable truth that life is filled with pain. Whether little pains or big pains we all have pain, some of us have a plethora of pain and most of us go through times when we feel that we have nothing to look forward to except death. Whether true or not this is a difficult place to be, combining a healthy longing for death with an unhealthy contempt for life and a certain hopelessness that leaves one bereft of any desire. Add to this the knowledge that our time is not of our own choosing and one is left with the impetus behind this poem, the stoic knowledge that one is trapped within this world while longing to be free. Life becomes a prison, God a warden, and others (even friends) fellow inmates who are not to be trusted. As I said above, a difficult place to be.

Nameless sorrows assail my mind
As hope gives way to despair
Abandoned dreams my life have lined
A pointless waste of life's fraught fare

Though still a life I've left to live
Time still my greatness to achieve
I fear, this life, no heart I've left to give
Nor any will, its goodness, to believe

Should I die this very night
I true should breath such grateful sigh
And shudder with relief for freedom from life's haunting plight
For in Lord's enduring grasp I'd, with eternal comfort, lie

For that oh so pleasant day I fear I long shall wait
Stoic patience become my armor 'gainst a life of pain
For hope's proved naught but hurt, such is a dismal fate
But on that day I day, I then shall learn to live, that day shall be my gain

So heavenward I yearn and deathly grasp I do await
That ever onward I might move
Passing through Heavenly cities golden gate
No life to live, nor pain endure, and no worth should seek to prove

Dark and Light Entwine

We are all sinners, we are all prone to wickedness, such is our nature. We tend to shy away from looking at the blackest parts of ourselves, we tend to focus on what we do well, what positive things we bring. We also tend to judge others according to what we value. The problem is that we are all different, that we all have our strengths and weaknesses, that what one values greatly, another sees as a waste. When we do look at the sinful nature which lies inside each of us we tend to see not what is true, but what we desire, we each look at ourselves as the chief of sinners, when we bother to look. We engage our selfishness in that opposite direction, instead of seeing ourselves as we are, we see only the weight of our own sin and assume, even unconsciously, that no one else (who is truly human) has done worse. We then turn and classify those who have done worse as less than human, as monsters, as sociopaths, as demon-possessed fiends. Again, in this, we fail to see the truth, that each of us is human, each of us is a sinner, and all of our sin stands the same before God. This poem highlights my own struggles with sin, my own habit of seeing myself as the worst.

Blood drives itself through me
Power flowing hotly through my veins
With it carries all that is my life
All sin and pain and shame
And drives upon my withered heart
Great wickedness I've done

My heart is fit to break
Shatter into sharp and jagged pieces
Under weight of such momentous sin
Let the fire take me
Burn me with its cleansing flames
And wind to carry off the chaff

Cleanse me, burn away my hate
Let all wicked thought be fed into the flame
Oh that I could be righteous yet
Freedom from this flesh of death
To know true, enduring life
This is my great desire

All That I Am Not

I don't date much. Mostly because I am convinced that women are not attracted to me. There are many reasons for this, some probably legitimate, some probably not. Regardless it keeps me from asking women out. The other side of the equation is that I tend to be a great acquaintance, a wonderful close friend, and extremely awkward at everything else...which makes it difficult to get from one to the other, especially with the fairer sex. Regardless this poem is a reflection upon the vast limitations I see in myself and my potential desirability. I hope that it doesn't sound like moping, that is not the intention. The intention is, instead, self-exposure...the result of which I am unsure, but I suppose I will find out soon enough.

I am not wealthy
I am not wise
Nor brave, nor strong, nor good

Would that I were all these things
Or e'en any two or three
If only to be what you desire

What little weakness I may hold
and in my poverty should keep
I shall gladly share with you

What little courage I possess
I'll gladly spend on you
Ever, in comfort, you to hold

I cannot promise much
Raising empty hands in offer
But I would share all I am with you

All I am is yours
Though little it may be
If you would but share your life with me

Creation and Praise

I have written several poems with the intention of highlighting the styles of scripture in my own poetry. While this poem does not exactly replicate any particular style of scripture it is intended to be reminiscent of the psalms. The content is obviously the creation of the world.

Your greatness is seen in the glory of the stars
Your majesty descends from the heavens
By your word this world was born
Your speech birthed Venus, Mercury, and Mars

Your glorious word brought light to dark
And 'twas your pleasure to draw back the seas
Dry land you raised and seeded well
To grow a perch for Robin, Sparrow, and Lark

By your will you made the birds to fly here to and fro
And flit their way across the empty skies
And many fish the seas to swim
And dive down deep below

In sky you set out points of light
Great balls of roiling gas
For the day the sun to rule
And the moon to stand in trust for night

You made great beasts to walk the land
And crawling things in dust to dwell
Man you made to praise your name
In your glory revel, and by your might to stand

So let all stand to praise your name
Your glory we may privileged sing
And stand in worship your name to bring
To this now tainted world

The End

I find when I speak to people that death is often a desperate fear. It is something that most people spends their lives dreading. We see death as the enemy, the thief of life which has come to steal that which we most desire. The problem with this is that it is not in any way a Christian mindset. If we look at death through the lens of the scriptures we understand that death is not the enemy, nor is it something to be feared. It is instead the suitable reward for our lives, it is something that we look forward to, something that we long for. For Paul we know that 'to live is Christ and to die is gain.' With this in mind I present the following poem.

Death depends on straining string
O'er my weary head
Daily I await inevitable fall
Fate's weighted blade stained red

A simple snap and then no more
From life's weight is given release
Awaits a journey upward
Then to know eternal peace

Hate's Abiding Need

I am, intimately familiar with just how damaging, how destructive, and how consuming hate can be. Those who know me know this and those who have known me for a very long time will remember this. Hate is all-consuming, it seeks to encompase the heart, fill the mind, and devour the soul. If allowances are made it will fill and overflow every aspect of one's being until there is nothing else and the person himself is lost. This poem is a remembrance, a warning, and perhaps a little bit of a plea. Hate has been one of the defining factors of my life and while I am free of it, having been cleansed by the boundless love of Christ, the remainder of that which I once was remains within and seeks escape. The sin of which I am capable, not that which I have done but that which I may yet do, at times haunts me and provides impetus for most desperate reprisals of faith.

Blood feeds to hurtful lust
As pain takes on pleasant guise

Wicked heart and bloody mind
Call in chilling articulation
For brutal retribution
Upon imagined slights

Dark thoughts and pressing need ever endure
Through days of light's compassionate embrace

Through pain and brilliant passion
Blissful joy and bitter sorrow
Through trial and temptation
Content repose and ambition's fearsome grasp

Hate abides unchanged
And its only cure is love

Promises

We tend to make promises, often which we have no hope (or sometimes even intention) of keeping. This is especially true when it comes to romance, promises sound good, they stir the emotions, they fill both parties with desire, appreciation, and contentment. However we often promises things that we have no hope of keeping, 'I will never hurt you', or 'I'll always do what is best for you'. Another favorite of mine is 'I'll always put you first', these promises are impossible to keep because it is human nature to be selfish and the nature of relationship to hurt one another. Some might take this to be a dim view of love but I promise you that it is not. Relationship and romance have vast rewards to offer, but they also have inevitable pains that must be endured to achieve those rewards. Even our relationship with God is wrought in pain, matured in pain, and tested by pain. This poem is my response to those promises, when I finally find my wife I know that man, and the husband that I should be...I also know that I am less than perfect and will, at times, fail to be that man and that husband. The best promise that I can make her is that I will try my utmost to be that which I should be.

I should ne'er leave you
Nor should I forsake you
Just as God has not me
But perchance I will and do
Shall you take me back?

I should ne'er hurt you
Nor bring you harm
Just as God has not me
But perchance I will and do
Shall you, by willingness, forgive?

I should always put your best at first
Caring for all your needs and wants and dreams
Just as God has cared for me
But perchance I fall and fail
Shall you, in grace, lift up my head?

I should love you e'er the sun stands in the sky
And moon and stars give light to night
Just as God has loved me
But perchance I fall and fail
Shall you, in turn, love me?

I should promise only what I can give
And keep each and every one I make
Just as God has promised me
But perchance I fall and fail
Shall you, in mercy, promise me?

I make what promises I may
And keep all those I can
I am not God
Having not his power
Nor his constancy
But I promise this, and keep it will

I should love you till the stars
Grow cold and gutter out
If you, in turn, should love me

Reborn

2 Corinthians tells us that when we are saved we become a new creation. This is entirely true and I feel that this is a proper notion on which to transfer from facebook notes to this new blog. I am a new creation, made and blessed by God, no longer what I was but moving ever forth to that which I shall become.

I stand unfettered, my sin behind me lain
Victory through all encompassing love
Through effortless surrender I have gained

My past is naught but thought stored in remote faculty
And some now distant, though still bitter, regret
My life renewed and better yet, reborn in glorious fraternity

Brotherhood binds my heart and soul, stirring newly found emotion
Brother, sister, father, mother, unity in family
No longer sought but now found, fact and no longer hopeful notion

Life restored to this deathly husk of flesh
Hope restored and with the father lies
Soul and spirit, so long separate, once again enmesh

Hung on ancient, twisted tree I died to sin
Died and yet I live and breath
For I am not myself, but he who lives within

So evermore to such eternal hope I turn
And in this life to his good will I yield
So that I may hear well done when this life I do adjourn