
I’m growing in wonder at the love of God.

A few years ago, I splurged and purchased a nice, leather bound journal I’d been wanting. Last week, I finished it.

I do not want this weakness anymore,
This want of strength, this will so rife with lack.
I tire of always falling further back,
Forgetting truths I knew just days before.
Corruption keeps its hold upon my core,
Each fault of mine another little crack,
Each inability a grave attack
In this, the never ending inner war.
But at the end of my ability,
Your grace, sufficient for my ev’ry need,
Reminds me of the testifying host
Of those who grasp their own futility
And trust instead your ev’ry word and deed,
So trials become their joy, the cross their boast.
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How many little moments will we find
Were not without significance at all
But were the subtle graces of a kind
Untarnished by the twistings of the fall?
How many hours of testing will reveal
Themselves to be the reasons for our joys?
How many wounds will show they served to heal?
How many pains upset the serpent’s ploys?
How many seasons thought to have no end
Did end one day with mercy fresh and new?
How many things seemed only to offend
But deepened both my love and faith in you?
How often is there more than eyes can see?
How little do we understand of thee.
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“Do not fear me,” spoke the specter,
And I was afraid.
Death would surely follow from this brush.
But the holy soul collector,
With his wounds displayed,
Welcomed me and did the devil crush.
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Don’t look under the bed, or in the closet, or in the basement. And don’t investigate that noise or that creepy hallway. And definitely don’t open that door or step outside. Continue reading

To be where one is present with no thought
For how one might escape the present state.
To hold that one is held when one feels caught.
To feel the urge to run yet still to wait.
To know that his provision is enough,
His grace sufficient for the task at hand.
To recognize the road indeed is rough
And follow still with faith in his command.
To seek his reign and righteousness above
The chasing of all momentary needs.
To trust that ev’ry test is ruled by love.
In darkest valleys, still the Shepherd leads.
From worry and comparison refrain;
His sov’reignty and purposes remain.
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He knows that you are weary.
He hears each cry and query of his own.
The battered and the bleary
Are blessed. They will behold their father’s throne.
Photo by Jake Melara on Unsplash