Thursday, October 15, 2009

You’re Safer in His Hands (A lesson learned by one who cares too much)

(A lesson learned by one who cares too much)

It’s hard for me to leave you there;
Seems ‘twould be less painful not to care,
But let you stray in ignorance and fear
Instead of reaching out.

For reaching out requires a reaching up
To place you in His hands
Instead of into mine.

/Once stirred to care,
It’s hard to trust;
But you’re safer in His hands./

His hands are strong to save and to keep,
To comfort and to guide.
They bear the marks that prove His love
A love that yearns to hold you close and
And never let you go.

And now through prayer, I’ve come to be
Tuned to feel that yearning, too,
And echo it within.

/For once stirred to care,
It’s hard to trust,
But you’re safer in His hands./

My hands are weak, uncertain;
First devoted, then devoid
Of any loyalty.
Though well-intentioned,
I’ve found that they are prone to drop or to crush
That which I love the most.
I was not made to hold you safe,
But to lead you to the One who can.
Yet, I was designed to care about you
(though at times the price seems too high).

/For once stirred to care,
It’s hard to trust;
But you’re safer in His hands./

Yet Trust is what He seeks in me,
And you as well. And now, I see
That, by giving more to care about-
More to cherish and hold important-
He gives me more to entrust to Him,
A chance to see my faith increase.
You see, He’s wise in how to work His will in us-
To work in me by using me to work in you.

/So, though once stirred to care,
It’s still hard to trust.
I’ll quickly place you in His hands;
For you’re safer in His hands./

You are Always There

Once I was near to you
Once did I always love you,
but now here I am
in misery and anguish.
Wishing I could love you again.

Once in my darkest moment
Once did I see your light
It shone so bright that
then it dried my tears and
lifted all my fears.

I always knew you were near,
but for fear of shame did I drift away.
I felt like you could never look at me again
I never wanted you to be ashamed of me.

It was then that I realized that you never left my side,
but I yours.
You reached out your hand to me,
but I shoved it away saying, "I can do it myself!"

No matter how many times I tried to pick myself up,
I kept falling back down.
It is then that I take your hand and you pick me back up

You picked me up like nothing ever happened.
Why? How could one show so much love to a poor,
wretched sinner like me? After all I did to you!!

"How can you still love me" I asked.
He never said a word, but revealed His heart to me,
and showed me what unconditional love is really like

I then realized my need for repentance.
I could no longer hold all the things
I was hiding from you.
I got down on my knees because,
the burden was so great.
You said, "Let me share the burden."

It was like a weight was being
lifted off my back and the chains set free.
I never felt so free as that moment.
I then said that I never want to leave
my first love again!
For it is in Him that I see the light!

I know you're there!
Just shine your light more brilliantly!
For it is my darkest hour that I realize:
I need you always!

Everytime I look to the sky now,
I see the majesty of you.
Everytime I feel the warmth of the sun,
I can feel your arm around me,
and know you are there.

Everytime it rains, I feel your
sadness for all the sin in the world.
Including mine. I feel the pain of the
world with every raindrop.

All the sadness it gives me,
makes me all the more want
to serve you. For in serving you,
is my eternal glory.
In you is my true reward.

We may try to get all the world's pleasures,
but when we realize how worthless the are,
we see you in all your glory.
Like glasses being put on when we can't see.

The One

The emblem of Christianity, shunned by humanity.
He saved and died for all,
because man ate, and took the fall.
Despised by kindred, hated by strangers,
this Man was born in a manger.
After being ridiculed, whipped, tattered,
He hung up high, broken, shattered.
It is finished, yelled at last,
by this Man, who was nailed fast.
Tortured and crucified was He,
For His love for you and me.
Three days long in the grave,
and only Mary was enough brave.
He is risen! She yelled with joy,
this Saviour, Lord, Man, and Boy.
Go ye into all the world!
I'll return, my banner unfurled.
On this note, He did ascend,
but long it took them to comprehend.
This Son of the Father, filled with love,
Baptized by man, and blessed by a Dove.
Enslaved were we, when He came,
no more chains! No more the same.
Accept Him in your heart today,
the Lord, Jehovah, our Yahweh.

The Hills of Werth

What are theses vast and verdant Hills of Werth?
Where there grazes such beauty and relentless mirth?
Why does it seem in its mysterious wonder,
That I have roamed before in those hills yonder?

It was there on those hills that I had by chance seen,
The rolling landscape and the grass so green.
I beheld many a gorgeous and graceful flower,
And with each breath drank in the awe of that hour.

The rays of the sun shone down in such glory,
Painting the world gold as if in some story.
A breeze so gentle caressed and embraced me,
And closing my eyes I felt truly happy and free.

Again I viewed before me the Hills of Werth,
And there as in a trance I knelt to the earth.
My heart was so full and overwhelmed by it all,
That upwards to heaven my voice sent its call.

Memories came full of my life from the past,
Forcing me to realize what I knew wouldn’t last.
Those I had known and who they had been
Had changed far too much to be the same again.

Our love and affection was still real and good,
But life was altered and not where we once stood.
Life seemed to demand of us more and more,
Things we’d never considered or thought of before.

Here my thoughts caused me to miss all we were,
And here in this present moment the past I prefer.
But as the hills and their beauty before me are spread,
I pause and think deeply of what future lies ahead.

Many wonderful things from these changes have come,
And I can always look forward to when we’re all home.
All standing here together on this escalated earth,
This place we all know and love, The Hills of Werth.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Don't Worry, I'm Safe Inside my Box.

I live in a box.

But don't worry! I have friends who live with me. They are the greatest friends anyone could ask for. Any of them will tell you they only have my best interests at heart--they want to keep me safe.

There's one of my closest friends, Doubt. I know she really cares for me. It's true she can be negative about who I am; seems like I'm always hear her saying, "You are TOO fat to even think about doing that!" "You will never accomplish this; remember how many times you've failed?" But she only says those things to keep me safe. "Rejection hurts! Better to not try at all," she warns me from her seat guarding my box's door.

Then there's Fear. He is Doubt's best friend and always present, but I talk to him the most when an Opportunity knocks on my door. Fear will sneak up behind before I answer the door and whisper in my ear. When he speaks, it seems like his words spread an icy chill through my heart. He whispers, "What if this makes you vulnerable? You'll be weak! What if someone takes advantage of you? Tries to hurt you? What if. . .?" On he goes and I know he's right. Fear wants me safe.

After this, I usually sit and talk with Pride, Bitterness, Sloth, and Lust. They are friends that I have known for a long time. Pride will tell me, "My dear, be grateful you didn't answer that door! Imagine how foolish you would have looked if you had said this! What do you think that person would have thought if you had done that?"
Sloth agrees and adds, "It would have taken a lot of work anyways. Who has the time? Really, you're better off where you are."
"And what is the chance of you working well with that person? She never understood you. No one ever has," Bitterness acidly remarks.
"I know what you really want and of course, that Opportunity would have gotten in the way of that. You don't need it. Just listen to me and I will make sure that you have everything you want," Lust promises. "Just stay inside the box and you will live the good life!"

So here I am in my box.

It wasn't always like this, you know. One day, some time ago, I left my box to meet another friend, Jesus Christ. He told me to leave my box and follow Him. I didn't need my old friends when I was with Him. I was happy to simply listen to what He said, which was different from anything I had ever been told. In Him, I am a new creature! Of course, my old friends never really left, but when I listened to Jesus, His voice was the only one I heard.

But Doubt and Fear got hold of me. They told me, "Now, look here! You simply cannot keep living like this. LOOK AT YOU! You're not attractive or witty or smart or funny. Why do you even try to help others when no one wants you!"
As they walked me back to the box, Pride complained behind me, "Think of how foolish you look when you witness to someone and they ask questions you can't answer!"
"But . . . " I tried to stop them from talking me back into the box. I could hear my Master calling me, but His words were being drowned out by Fear, Doubt, and Pride.
"Who deserves your help? When did everyone want you? Who ever helped you?" Bitterness questioned. "Why even try? Another day will do; just rest for now." Sloth added.
I feebly agreed with them as we kept getting closer to the box. Lust greeted me at the door. She pulled me in as she remarked, "How could this Jesus be taking care of you? When did He ever give you something you wanted?"

I no longer heard Jesus, only my friends. I know that they have my best in mind; at least I think I do. They must! They're my friends! They love me, they want to keep me safe.

Jesus still calls my name but Fear keeps me pinned to the wall. Doubt and Lust keep me locked in. Pride and Bitterness try to make me strong and untouchable while Sloth keeps me from trying at all.

Who needs Jesus when I have friends like these? All they want is to keep me safe.

Safe inside my box.


Golden teardrops wet the horizon
As the melting sky falls on the trees;
Flames of crimson dance in a sea of blue
As the evening displays its masterpiece.

What rose in the morning
In fiery-red
Has now on the sky
All its beauty bled.

In rising to life
It strongly burned its shadow less light,
And now setting to die
Its beauty caresses the early night....

--What of my strength
To brightly shine?
What will my life display
On the day I die?

Will my light simply sink far below
Life's burning horizon with nothing to show?
Or will God's glory light up the trees
As I allow Him to show His beauty through me?

The Ball

The symbols crash and drums beat out a pace.
Now all join in and never miss a beat.
The men approach the girls with pretty face.
The couples dance; the homely take a seat.
The partners change and girls who thought they’d dance
All night are found lacking in sincere charm.
Conceited men who thought they had a chance
Are left to gawk with looks of sheer alarm.
The ball is almost over and I pause
When first I see this girl who stands so still.
Her dress is plain and merits no applause
Yet doubles all the beauties in their skill.
We dance, tho late, like no one else before
And now I know I could not ask for more.

Lost My Mind (A Thousand Times)

Savaged lines
Piercing cries
Drive my mind away from me

Oh God, my God
I could have died
You keep me alive
I could have lost my mind
A thousand times
But You kept me
My God kept me alive

I could be stark raving mad
Screaming all day, all night
Pounding my padded walls
But You won't let me fall

Oh God, my God
I could have died
You keep me alive
I could have lost my mind
A thousand times
But You kept me
My God kept me alive

My blade's more than sharp enough
The triggers ready to pull
Indulge the shadows call
But You won't let me fall

Oh God, my God
I could have died
You keep me alive
I could have lost my mind
A thousand times
But You kept me
My God kept me alive

No one there but you
A steady hand to to stay my hand
You saved me from myself
I would have lost my mind
A thousand times
But for my God

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

What is to be Said?

What is to be said? I know that there is much to say. Let it be known that when it comes to articulation, I find a euphoric pleasure in searching out the best way to say. Words are beautiful things. Via words, I can express thought to you, the reader. I can direct your very thoughts by the use of phrases that have been structured within a context that will give specific meaning on a personal level to you as an individual. I, via the written/spoken word, can effect you. I can build you up and then tear you right back down. I can reveal truth, or weave deception. I can convey love, or communicate hate. I can virtually accomplish any tangible goal with this over-laid function we call language, and by this point in my exposition you are asking yourself, "What is his goal in writing this?"

You see, dear reader, I have hit a wall. In the most humble of senses, I would like to fancy myself quite adept in this art of language. However, as of late I have found the articulation of my thought to be quite laborious. Due to circumstances with which I am quite unfamiliar, I have, for the first time, found myself quite "tongue-tied', if you will forgive the colloquialism. Never before have I been "at a loss for words"; at the very least, not like this. I have analyzed my mind and conducted the most thorough of investigations of the deepest recesses of my heart and intellect, and my conclusions, the which my hypothesis vaguely infers, alarm me in the most subtle of senses.

I fear that I may be afraid. Afraid of what and why, I am not yet entirely sure. Be it known that, based upon the knowledge and understanding of the convictions to which I hold so desperately dear, I should have no cause for this fear. In a word, it is irrational; and yet the interference whom I find tightly wrapping himself about the words that I so desperately wish to utter looms above me - daring me to try my hand at innocent and genuine expression, and when I dare except the challenge, he strangles the words, one-by-one.

The saddest truth remains that I am utterly helpless to repair this inhibited state. I have often wondered that I just might terminate the fear by removing my person from the circumstance all together; surrender, as it were, to the fear and concede defeat. Circumstance has indeed crossed me all together, and this truth, coupled with my inability to find the words, compels me to recede to the recesses of my doubt and not run the risk of a wound due to impulsive action.

I know this course of action to be unacceptable on all fronts. There is no competing with the hope that I have in one day being able to articulate, even if it is only the possibility of articulating the incredibly fantastic thought that saturates my mind at this present moment. I cannot hope for anything more than that expression. At this time, this exposition must be enough, and I await, with patient anticipation, the day that I am no longer compelled to succumb to silence - the day when I will have truly "found the words."

Saturday, October 3, 2009


We're still here
And it's no better
As we build bigger
We're moving faster
But we're still the same
Primitive man

Everywhere I look I see fallen men
With wings ripped off by a world of sin
The world we've made to shine so brightly
Buildings touch the sky, exalting men
Who've never looked so good

Primitive men
Clawing for a better meal
Shuffling, snarling
Creatures of the mud
No matter how we try
We'll never be more than
Primitive man

Grandiose efforts to lift ourselves on high
We climb over weaker brothers, who cares
What worth is man in this cruel state
You say you want to get what you want
Use a modern day club

I don't know why

We're still here
And it's no better
As we build bigger
We're moving faster
But we're still the same
Primitive man

Primitive men
Clawing for a better meal
Shuffling, snarling
Creatures of the mud
No matter how we try
We'll never be more than
Primitive man

Primitive men
With no God to save
We'll scream with rage
Without a Lord on high
We're uncivilized
Creatures of the mud
No matter how hard we try
With no God to save us
We'll never be more than
Primitive man

A Dying Man

Here in the circle of true and honest minds,

A scene unfolds its dreadful tale of life and death.

Man against man in a battle of mortal veracity,

Flesh against flesh in a struggle of moral hesitation.

His hand is holding firm to his protection

And his hope is clinging to the intensity of his will.

One move, a parry, the next an advance.

His heart is beating to the cadence of his thrust,

But his mind is in agony as every moment is lingered

By the thoughts that race through his understanding,

And the heat that pulsates through his burning muscles.

The people surrounding watch in a rancid, shameless delight;

Cheering for death, and a crimson flow.

His breath is short and his vision a blur of figures.

A life for a life or a fight for peace,

The enemy his only friend.

Would he rather live to die of inward shame?

Or would he rather die to save a brother.

Though they before this time have never met,

And his enemy by name may be,

He is still a man, and one just like he.

The pain is more than he can possibly endure.

His body is an ache of physical despair,

But his heart is torn with a tear of compassion.

Yet, still he defends and still he persists,

Against a foe that will surely be slain.

He sees the man is weak and vulnerable,

Fear and frustration are brimming in his eyes.

Hope is not an option for his troubled thoughts.

Now merely survival is his constant breath,

And all his dreams a prayer for life.

Was this his enemy?

Was this the cost his existence must take?

To kill was his freedom and to live was his slavery,

A last ray of sun before the night.

Metal ringing in a chorus of suffering and hopelessness,

And bodies straining with emotion and draining of sense.

Sweat was dripping from his soiled face,

And conscience was gripping at his heart.

There was only one choice he had left to make.

How! Oh, how could he decide?!

One simple blow and a life he would take.

But so much more would be lost by it all.

A chance to survive or someone to destroy,

And on this, his very own life, is held dear.

His opponent is tired and careless from his effort,

Only fighting enough to delay the imminent reality.

The enemy was finally driven back,

And thrown to the ground by his brutal force.

All time had ceased and every sound had been silenced,

When the contest was ended with his sword at his throat.

How long he looked into those deep and piercing eyes,

Staying his arm from finishing it all; no soul could ever tell.

He was still holding on, but willing himself to let go.

The hardness of his features softened gently,

And the fingers holding his weapon tenderly loosened.

His eyes were filled with pity as tears wet the

Etched and coarse lines of his face.

Here on this very ground one man’s blood must be spilled.

His opponent looked back uncertain and confused.

The agony of this moment paling his sight,

Had made him more afraid of the compassion and

The pity he had witnessed in his eyes.

With one hushed whisper and a quiet resolve,

He lifted the sword and looked at it in shame.

Having seen his own reflection

He cried out from deep within his soul.

And after hurling his weapon far out of his reach

He fell to his knees weeping and torn.

No more! No more!

It was there in that moment he felt wretched pain,

His body convulsing and writhing in torture.

He placed his fingers over his heart and

Felt the warm trickle of something over his skin.

Forcing his hand up to his eyes

He saw his own blood and then realized.

The man, his brother, stood before him severely

A sword in his hand and glossy with blood.

No compassion did he see, no thanks at all;

Only his blood and a face without pity.

Slowly to the earth he laid his head,

Closing his eyes but feeling no dread.

Peace overcame his despairing heart,

And there he lay motionless and lifeless.

This man had been dying every day,

From his hopeless existence and endless slavery.

He never really lived until he had died,

Finally free from both shame and pride.

His life is over but what he fought for had only begun,

When he turned from his darkness and looked to the Sun.