Window Pane

Condensation blurs the world outside,

Droplets running down,

Create wobbling streaks,

Intermittent rivulets of clarity.

 

Jack Frost’s busy fingers painted,

Crystal fantasies as I slept,

Beauty that distorts,

But ironically enhances.

 

Within the sanctuary,

Viewing through stained glass,

Various colors interpret the landscape,

As spectrum beams stream inward.

 

Through whose lens shall I peer?

Through whose pane interpret

The realm outside my home,

Thoughts outside my own mind?

Light Will Come

 Long before its appearance,

There are hints of the coming glory.

Streaks of color creep around

The fringes of the earth’s orb.

 

The horizon at the ocean’s edge

Turns orange and pink and purple.

The palette of colors blending uniquely

With the dawn of each new day.

 

Then a pinpoint of vivid color

Overpowers the pastels.

I am amazed by how quickly

It silently rises and grows.

 

Sunrise in all its glory.

Too bright for human eyes.

A radiance too powerful,

A searing, piercing light.

 

There are hints of the coming glory,

The dawn of a new day is approaching,

And we will all be amazed by

A radiance too powerful for human eye.

 

A searing, piercing Light will come.

Angel of Light

Angel of light most beautiful,

Gloriously radiant,

But only by reflection,

Of the divine.

 

Mistaken in your belief,

The glory was your own.

Your aspiration,

The highest throne.

 

Fallen to earth,

Beauty retained,

But only as a façade

A diabolical deceit.

 

You roam the earthly sphere,

Whispering in our ears,

Sly and attractive

On the surface.

 

Judging by outward appearance,

We think we are safe.

Until the trap is sprung.

We see too late.

 

Spirit of the living God,

Whisper in my ear,

Give me discernment

To know Truth.

Incineration

Made from the dust

And to ashes returned,

All transpiring in between

Destined to be burned.

 

The glory of His presence

An all-consuming fire,

He burns away the dross

On a refining pyre.

 

All that is material

Drifting as a cloud

Leaves behind a pile of ash

Underneath death’s shroud.

 

And what becomes of all we’ve done,

Of wood, hay, and stubble?

Will there be anything to show,

For all our earthly trouble?

 

How can I stand before Him?

How could I be so bold?

Unless the blood and the fire

Refine me there to gold.

Come, Lord Jesus

 Earthquakes rumble, seas roar,

Tornadoes swirl and hurricanes rage,

Fires sweep across the forests,

As all Creation groans in pain.

 

Man in his ignorance and apathy

Ignores the fact that he himself

Lives and breathes and has consciousness.

That he is responsible to his Creator.

 

But at His coming, the angels sing

The trees clap their hands.

The stones though inanimate,

Will find their voice and cry out.

 

The crooked will be made straight,

The wrongs will be righted,

Tears will be dried and suffering cease.

There will be peace on earth.

 

Come, Lord Jesus.

Train of Life

 We pull from the station with a bump and a lurch,

Throwing me from my cozy berth,

And the rattle of the wheels on the track sets the beat,

And I try to keep up with my tiny feet.

 

We zoom through my childhood beginning the trip,

And I dance and twirl, and I leap and skip,

And with joyful exuberance, I prance,

Because I can’t resist the rhythm of the dance.

 

There’s pounding on the track, and I feel the heat.

Now the passion of youth sets the beat,

But the train moves on at a steady pace,

And I find myself swept into the maddening race.

 

But, after a time of just waltzing along,

I start to recognize that I am not as strong,

And I find that now I must use a cane,

To keep my balance on this surging train.

 

I see my destination up ahead,

The road has been long, but the light is red,

And I leave the train and the rattling track,

Knowing in my heart, I cannot go back.

 

And the train pulls away to the future bound.,

From the sidelines now, I hear the distant sound,

Of the rumble and the rattle and the clack, clack, clack,

Of the rhythm of the wheels on the Lifeline track.

Vitriol

 The sweet façade sometimes cracks,

And what pours out is vile.

Angry words spew forth

Splashing everyone in sight.

 

The rage felt toward one person,

Turns abruptly to others,

Who stand confused, as the acid

Lands and eats into their souls.

 

The great roiling pot of vitriol

Lies beneath the surface,

Waiting for an opportunity.

Do you feel better afterward?

 

How do you manage to shrug it off?

To feel justified in the rage,

The pain you inflict,

The wounds ever deepening?

 

Do you not know, the searing liquid

Puddles around your own feet,

Bounces back on your own face,

Scars you and those you claim to love?

 

When will you outgrow this?

Will you rage into the grave,

Trying to hurl your burning spit

Into the face of God Himself?

The Puzzle of Life

A bit of logic,

Some intuition,

Researching foreign words,

And the crossword puzzle is solved.

 

The picture on the box,

Attention to color,

An eye for detail,

And the jigsaw puzzle is solved.

 

And then there is the puzzle of life.

 

Logic

Intuition

Research

Comparison

Attention

Observation

The pieces are still scattered.

 

How does one make sense of competing ideas?

Find clarity among the clamor of voices?

Escape from pressure on all sides?

Come up with a cohesive world view?

 

Jesus…

I hide in the shadow of your wings,

I rest in your sheltering arms,

I listen to the beat of your heart.

 

Peace instead of pieces.

 

If You Don't Believe in God...

If you don’t believe in God…

To whom do you offer praise,

When your breath is taken away by the colors in a sunset,

When your heart swells with joy at the cry of a newborn,

When you realize you have escaped a tragedy?

From whom do you seek comfort,

When your breathing comes with excruciating pain,

When your heart is breaking with sorrow,

When you realize a dear friend has betrayed you?

Of whom do you stand in awe,

When you breathe in the fresh air after a thunderstorm,

When your heart is filled with the ecstasy of love,

When you realize how tiny you are in the universe?

In whom do you trust,

When you breathe your final breath,

When your heart trembles out its last beat,

When you realize you are stepping into eternity?

By whom do we acquire salvation,

When we realize our wretchedness,

When our heart needs to be cleansed,

When breathing in His Spirit is our greatest need?

Dolphin

Dolphin

Flash of quicksilver,

In the undulating green,

You propel yourself,

Unmindful of current.

Soon I see the graceful arch,

Of your back above the water.

The sound of your exhale,

Informing your presence.

I am awed by the swiftness

With which you change direction.

You pursue your prey

With lightning speed.

Are you aware of my presence?

Do you purposely entertain?

Does my fascination amuse you?

Do you know or care?

I recognize you,

As an artful creation,

Formed as a part of

A magnificent scheme.

Mortal Man's Dilemma

Soaring forth on eagle’s wings,

We long to see the future.

To know what is down the road,

To live without conjecture.

Oh, to have the piercing eye,

That sees what lies ahead.

So we know with certainty,

Whether to embrace or dread.

This the plight of mortal man,

To be caught in pinpoint time.

One small slice of our life span,

Is all we can divine.

As we awaken each new day,

The veil so slightly drawn,

We step out in faith or fear,

Until the final dawn.

Dust

…You were made from dust and to dust you will return.  Genesis 3:19

…he remembers that we are dust…Psalm 103:14

Specks drifting in the wind,

Gathered together, compacted

Carefully shaped,

And yet...dust.

Capable of artistry,

Complex thought,

Creative endeavor,

And yet…dust.

Capable of evil,

Arrogance and greed,

Pettiness and falsehood,

Because…dust.

Straining to be more,

To do more,

Falling short,

Because…dust

In the struggle,

In the failure,

He remembers,

We are dust.

Reduced by death,

And passage of time,

Coming full circle,

We are dust.

He who formed us,

Knows best,

What we are made of.

But in compassion…

He looks past the dust into our hearts.

Amaryllis Anticipation

Green spears poke through,

Lifting their heads upward,

Seeking the sun.

From a swollen end,

A streak of red peeks out.

The swelling splits,

Revealing brilliant flowers,

Each a burst of flaming red,

Trumpet shaped

And equally boisterous.

After a few days,

You wilt and droop.

You stain my hands

As I pluck you off.

I mourn your passing.

But under the earth,

Inside the hidden bulb,

Is the potential for a new day,

Of radiance and glory.

Amaryllis anticipation.

Unholy Night

Chaotic night, unholy night,

Darkness snuffs out every light,

Painful cries from mother and child,

Evil rules rampant and wild,

We long for conflict to cease,

In agony, we cry for peace.

Chaotic night, unholy night,

All earth quakes at the sight,

Profanity streams around us each day,

Each man follows his own sinful way,

The fabric of life has been torn.

Man perishes naked, forlorn.

Chaotic night, unholy night,

Banished by His radiant light,

By His death redeeming man,

God reveals His merciful plan.

Salvation comes to earth,

Through the Christ child’s birth.

Silent night, Holy night,

Humble child, display your might,

You can make the crooked straight,

With great longing we await,

From our heart’s depths we sing,

Come take your place as our King,

Lost Music

Nothing to which it can be compared,

No adequate words to portray,

With reckless abandon I jump into the stream,

Let the current sweep me away.

While the vibrations penetrate my body,

My heart syncing with the beat,

I drift on a tide of melody.

And thrill to the harmony’s heat.

But robbed by tremor and age,

Expression is trapped inside.

Instead of bursting from heart into song,

It leaks in drops from my eyes.

Adam's Rib

From the dust of the earth

I could have formed her,

As you yourself were made.

But as you slept, I pulled her from your side.

I could have made her

Just like you in texture and form,

But I made her unique,

Unlike you, and yet of you.

You were made of the dirt,

She was artistically fashioned

From living flesh, from sturdy bone,

To be your perfect companion.

If you disrespect or mistreat her,

You dishonor yourself.

You must cherish her, care for her.

 She is my thoughtful gift to you.

When I say, “Cleave and become one flesh,”

I am urging you to be

What you already have been

Since the beginning of time.

Your rib protects your heart,

And so will she formed from a rib.

The union of man and woman,

Is a thing beyond human understanding.

The Miracle of Life

Still in wonder here I stand,

Awestruck by your mighty hand,

Working with such craft and art,

True expression of your heart.

Intricate is your design,

Beauty I cannot define,

Each part meshing with the whole,

Linking mind, body, soul.

The miracle of conscious thought,

Of every fleeting moment caught,

We take for granted and assume,

Randomness some will presume.

The master potter molds the clay,

His very image to portray,

And someday every knee will bow.

As for me, I do it now.

I’m grateful that you formed me, made me,

Cared for me, redeemed and saved me.

Fashioned me and gave me breath,

Shelter me from birth to death.

Surrounded by Water

His breath parted the waters,

They crossed between its walls,

Their pursuers stuck in the mire,

Were swallowed up.

But first, Moses stretched out his arm.

His breath piled up the waters,

Sending them into a heap,

No matter that it was flood stage.

They crossed on dry ground.

But first, the priests stepped in.

Wind and waves buffeted the boat.

A frightening image appeared.

A man walking on the water beckoned.

Peter walked on the water to him.

But first, he got out of the boat.

The waters raged about the boat.

He slept as they worried.

He spoke and the wind obeyed,

The waves were stilled.

But first, they admitted their fears.

Help me to confess my fears,

Get out of my boat,

Step into the flood,

Stretch my hand to the task,

In obedience to you.

Anticipation

In anticipation, I wait each spring.

A tree now covered with dull buds.

Holds a promise of brilliant color,

Pink and magenta soon to appear.

A few warm sunny days away,

I will stare in wonder at its beauty.

A thrilling transformation will dazzle,

And take my breath away.

In anticipation, I wait each day.

A world terribly broken,

Yet holds a promise of redemption,

A champion soon to appear.

A few days or years away,

Staring in wonder at His beauty,

I will be transformed into his likeness,

And breathe celestial air.

Engraved on His Palms

“I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.”   Isaiah 49:16

Carved deeply into flesh,

Written in blood,

Painfully etched,

My name.

Who made these wounds?

Punctured deep,

Penetrating beyond the surface

Into soul and spirit.

What caused the nails,

The rusty nails to be driven?

Was it the sin of the world?

Or was it mine?

His palm outstretched as promised,

Allowed the engraving,

Of my unworthy name

For my redemption.