The Practice of Prayer

The Practice of Prayer.jpg

(Photo by Olivia Snow on Unsplash)

O Father, how I struggle so
To come before your throne.
In public, pray’r oft turns to show;
In private, how I drone.
Though you twice o’er gave life to me,
I come still wanting more –
Unwarranted expectancy
Now knocking at your door.
No more.
Let thine own will alone be done,
And let thy kingdom come.
Let me in life reflect the Son,
To love, and be not numb.
Grant that my tastes are tempted not
By poverty nor wealth.
Peace and forgiveness, be my lot;
Humility, my health.
O Father who in heaven dwells
In holiness and light,
Keep me away from worthless wells,
From trusting in my might.
God, grant me eyes to recognize
Your grandeur and your grace.
Teach me to treasure you as prize,
And ever seek your face.

Advertisements

Redemption’s Rhyme

(Photo cred: Mitchell Martin – Instagram: @mitchellrmartin )


Within this world of fiction,
I yearn for heaven’s diction
To deepen my conviction.

I feel the present friction
From our great self-infliction,
And long for sin’s eviction.

Though strong the serpent’s striction,
He faces grave restriction
In all of his affliction.

For Christ, the great nonfiction,
God’s visible depiction,
Fulfilled the Word’s prediction.

Reflection on Psalm 39

 


Oh know your place, my soul.
Remember that your days are few.
Tis vanity
To live with just this age in view.
Relinquish your control.

Eternal God most high,
Provide perspective to my days.
Tis vanity
To live in conflict to your ways
As death draws ever nigh. 

Words for the Wind

Words for the Wind.jpg

I take up pen and page to point to truth
And pray my purpose is not rendered vague.
I recognize my mind reveals my youth;
Lord, let me neither tarry nor stravage.
I am a humble runnel of your reign.
Use these my words like water to refresh.
And when I feel my writing is in vain,
Remind me that I do not write for flesh.
These poems need not please the multitude.
These words require no mortal praise nor fame.
These messages may never earn my food;
I pray they ever glorify your name.
I write to please the one who knows my end.
I offer these, my poems for the wind.

Grieving Well

Pain is not without its purpose.
Tragedy still points to truth.
Terror may seem to usurp us,
Yet our God is not uncouth.
He, in sov’reignty, is moving.
Evil cannot halt his will.
Through the darkness, he is proving
Faithful. Let us then be still.
Nothing from his gaze is hidden.
He will never fail nor tire.
Evils come to us unbidden;
Evil will one day expire.
Suffer well, O worn believer.
See the larger plan unfold.
Trust the Father, blessed receiver.
He is purging you like gold. 

In My Experience

 

(Photo cred: Jeremy Poe)

Yesterday, I posted some thoughts on singleness being a gift, not a curse. I believe those words, and I pray they serve you well, but I also recognize the power of testimony in this discussion. Knowing the theology behind a subject helps; hearing how a person applies that theology may help more. So today, I want to share my current situation along with some lessons I’ve learned in the last few years.

Continue reading

Mission

Mission image.jpg

Let me not sit still and silent,
Let not shyness win,
Not while there is still a tyrant,
Not while there is sin.
Let not my excuses keep me
From the work ahead.
Lead me, Lord, to better share thee
With the blinded dead.
Let compassion and conviction
E’er compel my will.
Take my style of speech and diction,
With your message fill.
Let me never fall nor foment
Failure; let me please.
Let intention drive each moment.
Onward with the keys.

Grief

Broken with no hope of being mended;
Focused on a chapter that has ended;
Feeling as if time has been suspended;
Captivated by the sudden stillness-
Life appears infected with an illness.

Pain, oh how much longer will you tarry?
Fear: oppressive fog around the ferry.
How much farther, Father, must I carry
Weakness, like a cancer in my being
Which corrupts the sights that I am seeing?

Deeply does the curse cause me to suffer.
With each passing day, the road feels rougher.
God, be my deliverance, my buffer.
I can not in my own strength endure this.
Must I suffer so much in your service?

Yet your promise holds, for you are working
All things for the good – even the hurting.
Keep me then, in test and trial, from cursing
You in your unfathomable wisdom.
Keep me focused on your holy kingdom. 

The Signpost of the Imperfect

Imperfection's Signposts picture.jpg

C. S. Lewis penned something that has long confused me. In Mere Christianity, one of his most influential works, he wrote,

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
– C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

While I don’t disagree with him, I’ve never truly understood what he was getting at. I always wrestled with his point here, trying to accept it without truly comprehending it. But recently, I think it’s begun to dawn on me. Continue reading