The Paradox of Flesh

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The flesh is weak, and thus the flesh is strong.
Its eyes, created to behold the light,
Look to be filled by shadows in the night.
Its lips attempt to sing a lesser song,
Changing its subject to subjects. Its hands
Fight to feel control. Its nose calls rotten
All fragrance of the only begotten.
Its mind feigns thought yet never understands.
Strange is its weakness, stranger still its strength,
For, though inferior to its design,
The flesh oft captivates the soul of man,
Distracting all the senses for the length
Of life, lest spirit somehow glimpse a sign
That life was purposed for a higher plan.
Ne’er underestimate the danger here.
Long as you live, the enemy is near.


Photo by Ümit Bulut on Unsplash

Paradox

Counted righteous, yet we sin
Broken, but He lives within
Dying daily while we live
We are paupers, yet we give
Owning, but cannot afford
Wealth belonging to the Lord
Rich beyond all human dreams
In the desert finding streams
Walking from the state of death
Lungs of dust inflate with breath
Weakness shows a deeper might
Faith replaces eyes for sight
Hope endures when hope has died
Tortured souls in peace abide
Counting joy the deepest strife
Dying Son; eternal life

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Glorious Weakness

And so the Master bids me look within –
A blessed introspection of the soul –
To show me that the sinner saved from sin
Still lacks the strength and skill to take control.
Consistency of faith and focus lies
Within my hope but not within my hand,
For, though the goal is set before my eyes,
I have no pow’r to meet its full demand.
Yet I am found sustained by God above.
My only off’ring: insufficiency.
And as I face my lack, I find his love.
Oh paradox of this humility!
Herein I find the force to run the race:
His all sufficient, sacrificial grace.