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