I feel the pain but cannot find the benefit.
The path I would have chosen seemed a better fit.
Yet tests portend the sacrifice. I see my wraith
Point to my cross and call me to walk forth by faith.
Faith does not promise answers, bids me follow still;
Points past my understanding to the Father’s will;
Grounds hope not in the knowing but in being known;
Endures uncertainty certain of heaven’s throne.
Faith fixes focus not on the ephemeral
But finds eternal joy within the temporal.
It lays aside success and loss for higher gain
And trusts the one who gives and takes to justly reign.
Obedience bids me to die to self in this,
To trust the process in this brief parenthesis.
The work you do is good, as it shall always be.
Steadfast unto perfection is the course for me.
Photo by Cole Keister on Unsplash
The story of Jesus healing the paralyzed man in Mark 2 has long confused me.
I’ve been painfully aware of my weaknesses lately. Continue reading
You give us the ability to give,
For all we have to give, in truth, is yours.
The very breath we breathe, the days we live,
Our daily bread — each comes from heaven’s stores.
Lord, let us not forget that all is grace,
That we have earned not one of all our joys,
And let us fix our eyes upon your face
Above all earthly troubles, tasks, and toys.
Forgive us when we want more than your love,
And fit us to receive and be content.
Yours is the universe and all thereof.
The proof of your provision is Advent.
In thanks, we rest and look toward the Son,
Dependent on the independent one.
Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash
I do not trust my heart,
These feelings, these desires,
For though they, at the start,
Resemble warming fires,
They turn to fun’ral pyres.
So teach me to aspire
For your refining fire,
And, for your glory, start
Me t’ward a pure desire,
One after your own heart.
Photo by Noah Silliman on Unsplash
When roads diverge, how are we then to choose
The good, acceptable, and perfect way?
We guess what we might gain, what we might lose,
But which is better cannot ever say.
We walk by faith. Indeed. But does that mean
That we distrust our wisdom and our eyes?
Should we step forth in spite of what we see,
Ignoring earth whilst looking to the skies?
Or, in our ignorance, would it be best
To stop, be still, and know that you are God?
To proceed not with hastiness but rest?
To trust you to make straight the roads we trod?
LORD, in our walking, let our focus be
Not as much on our paths as upon thee.
Photo by Tamara Menzi on Unsplash
Wait for him, my soul,
Overwhelmed though you may be.
Trust him when you cannot see.
He is in control.
This will play a role.
Though you long to fight or flee,
Still your heart and bend your knee.
He will make you whole.
Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash
I’m trying to be more thankful.
If faith is an assurance, a conviction,
Then what is faith: an object or an action?
And what makes faith, according to depiction,
The only hope for holy satisfaction?
In days of old, our fathers knew your glory
And, knowing you, knew better their own measure.
Believing you would write the better story,
They walked by faith, and they received your pleasure.
Perhaps, then, faith is more than merely hoping;
Tis certainty of forthcoming salvation.
E’en in our darkest days, we are not groping
But standing, grounded in a sure foundation.
Faith knows its master, loves and fears his being.
This God, invisible, faith’s eyes are seeing.
I recently had a bad day, and I don’t know why.