The Book

The Book

I see You dressed
in fine leather and
embossed in gold.
My fingers lightly
trace Your spine.
And when I hold
firmly this Truth I
know that You too
are mine.
My backbone and
my strength.

Wearing a layer
of dust today, the
telltale giveway
that I have gone
in search of other
authors with their
more updated
less antiquated
quick fix, readers
digestable versions.
But I find it hard
to draw meat
through a straw.
And I return.

A paradox? Some
would claim. And I
cannot deny, the
apparant contadictions
but my convictions
stand firm in the
belief that I have
found The Way
It is a road map,
and I will follow in
the footsteps of the
One who will lead
me through tears
and blood stained
red letters to the
X that marks the
spot. The Cross.

This mystery that is
Gods Autobiography
and my biography,
both a sword that
will pierce and
liberate my soul.
It is my history and
my future. I will read
the book, on and on
page after page,
losing myself and
finding the lost me
found in the
conclusion that when
You finally close the
book on Revelation, it
will be, my Genesis.


Posted for Theme Thursday and imperfect prose

It's Grace

No theory commend it,
No fact can up-end it,
And time can't suspend it,
This mystery called Grace.

No force apprehend it,
No lawyer defend it,
No judgement can bend it,
Love holds it in place.

Lord never amend it,
I'm grateful You send it,
Will I comprehend it,
When I see Your face?




( Gods' Grace... it's AMAZING!)

Whatever!

Whatever!

(Phillipians 4 vs 8)

It seems to me, that recently, or maybe since forever

People are rude, give attitude, when they're saying "whatever"

They roll their eyes, start acting wise, and thinking it's clever

But since I looked, inside God's book, I think I'll only ever (say)

Whatever is noble,
Whatever is true 

Now these are the "whatevers,"
 that should matter to you

Whatever is pure and
 Whatever is right

Are words to meditate upon,
 by day and by night


Whatever is lovely,
 and admirable too

It's all of these, fine qualities,
 that you must pursue

Whatever is excellent,
worthy of praise

Consider these "whatevers"
 for the rest of your days

There will be those, who will suppose, to say that you should never

Preach the who, the where, the when and why, of whatever

'Cause the rhythm and the rhymin' and the timin' aint clever

Just look them straight between the eyes, and say...

..."WHATEVER!" "God Bless you!"

What's the Point?

     (A few pointed questions...to God.)

Is it, that you are I AM. Firmly anchored ashore upon solid rock. The silent voice, quietly heard above the crashing chorus of wind and waves. Deep calls unto deep. Is that the point?

Is it, that you breathe into the breakers, whisper above waves, speak into the swells and turn the tide into waters of redemtion. Reclaiming souls, that would otherwise be lost for all eternity, in the depths of the dead sea. Is that the point?

Is it, that you are captain of the wayfarer and castaway, the shipwrecked and stowaway. Every un-seaworthy sailor, who has turned away and hidden below in the hull.  You invite them aboveboard, leading them by light, on foot, across troubled waters to an exquisite upper cabin. Heaven. Is that the point?

Is it, that you flood the night with searchlights, seeking that which was lost. Your eyes, sweeping the farthest corners of the horizon. Relentless. Exhaustive. You are Father, shepherd, bereaved...'til at last...a son, a lamb, a treasure. Heralding a reunion of much rejoicing. Is that the point?

Is it, that  as You illuminate the encroaching day of reckoning, You become a beacon, beckoning. Calling us home. Is that the point?

Is it, that through dawn of daylight, turn of twilight, midst of midnight, You are starlight.  Your shine, eclipsing moon and sunlight...O Bright Morning Star. Is that the point?

Is it, that when sunset succumbs to a sepia glow. Your eyes light up, to let me know.  As present as through  morning light. So will You be through depths of night. Is that point?

Is it, that you are a faithful lover. Patient. Wading the waters. Waiting.  For an unfaithful lover to U-turn to you. Is that the point?

Is it, that you are the bridegroom, awaiting his bride on her maiden voyage to infinity. She is radiant, riding on the crest of a white water wave. Shining. You, in all your Glory.  Beaming. Finally guiding her ashore.  You share a long awaited embrace. Greet with a kiss, to commence forever. Is that the point?

Is it, that You are quite simply...
  
                                          ... looking for love?






Posted for Theme Thursday

see?

Luke 6 vs 42. How can you say to your brother, 'Brother let me take the speck out of your eye,' when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brothers eye. (New International Version)





clearly, you don't see me
as you should. is it the wood?
it's a fleck, just a speck
what the heck? this defect
i suspect, magnified, multiplied,
through some wide-eyed
black-hued, worldview
that you hold...
as your lens

the All-Seeing sees
these hypocrysies
with sinless scrutiny
and injects His perspective.

granting an invitation
under grace, to a place
face to face, eye to eye,
you and i, each must try
to remove from ourselves
the wood, that would
guarantee, you see me
clearly...as you should.

Colour Me

Colour Me

Colour me midnight and ebony,
The inner, blackest side you'll see,
Sins darkness washes over me,
I drown within its inky sea.

Colour me scarlett,  do you see

Irreverant complacency?
Trangression and iniquity,
Have stained the very core of me.

Colour me crimson, look and see,
Him nailed and hanging on the tree,
His blood outpoured, flows pure and free,
Salvations debt at Calvary.

Colour me Jesus,  do you see?
His righteousness and purity?
My sins erased, I'm blemish free,

When Jesus is the colour of me.

Portrait #1

Portrait #1

How do I paint a portrait of You?

Can I etch Your essence with a line,

Or texture You with brushstrokes fine?

What tools can delicately trace,

The complex contours of Your face?

What ink or paint can illustrate,

Your Holy 'picture perfect traits?'

No canvas can Your depth contain,

Your height too limited by frame.

How do I paint a portrait of You?

How contrast You with light and shade

How can Your glory be displayed?

What colour bold, what subtle hue

What pallate Lord, can tell of You?

How capture You so none forget

The splendor of Your silhouette?

So all who see will stop awhile

To pause and ponder Your profile.

 How do I paint a portrait of You?

(To be continued...)





Posted for imperfect prose