Harsh battle cries and cries from battle blows
Break full upon the ears by helmets hidden.
The enemy’s assaults—always unbidden—
Besiege the soldiers. All around them, foes
Fling flaming arrows ‘gainst the humble few.
These few still march, past bodies spoiled and sodden,
In search of captive souls. These, the downtrodden,
Still march, unbroken, victory in view.
They taste their own blood, wear blood not their own,
Press forward by a blood more diff’rent still.
They war to see the day the war will cease.
Though sore-afflicted, fire burns in their bone.
They march with life no enemy can kill,
Their ev’ry step in war, a step t’ward peace.
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The hearts of men may not detect
Distinctions ‘twixt a noble trait
And meaner ones. They thus effect
No proper fight against the state
Of their impurity. But God
Knows well what yet resides within
The cage of bone and flesh. His rod
Gives direction and discipline
To wayward men that they may be
Saved from their state of sinfulness.
Corruption, at his word, must flee
(Proximity of holiness).
So fear not God’s refining fire,
Let go the inexcusable,
Follow the path out from the mire,
And trust the holy crucible.
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Have you ever tried to cancel an Amazon account?
Lettered by blood; word conceived, breathed,
Unread, Unknown (momentary
Matters appear more pressing). Sheathed
Stays the saving sword, soul’s defense
Lowered, life left unguarded. Lost
Direction. Subscribed to false sense
Of security, of the cost
Of trading truth and life and way
For pirate’s treasure: cursed, unclean,
Corrosive to these hearts of clay
So fragile. Unperceived, unseen
Light under a basket, hidden
City on a hill: no help, no
Sanctity, no sin forbidden.
Soon food for the father below.
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Conflict among Christians can terrify me.
Patience is a discipline I need, for I am sickly.
Patience is a virtue that I do not wish to learn.
Patience in this time of testing cannot come too quickly.
Patience, keep me when the passions burn.
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For years, I’ve fought against the urge to place too much weight upon the next thing. The next thing may not be clearly defined, of course–it rarely is. But nonetheless, I catch myself looking ahead, dreaming of what might be. All the while, I steadily lose sight of my present responsibilities.
Little children, keep yourselves from idols,
Works of our own hands. Voices–our voices–
Call us to cast off all righteous bridles,
Chastise us for limiting our choices.
Choose you then this day your lord, your master.
Choose the voice you trust above all others.
Choose the path to life, avoid disaster.
Heed the voice of reason, sisters, brothers.
Learn distrust of self, for self is often
Led astray by varied vices. Passions
Harden hearts to truth. Consciences soften,
Filled with fleshly fears and fleeting fashions.
Build upon the only sure foundation.
Idols only lead you to starvation.
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