In all things, adored

See young men enflamed
pondering God’s fame
knowing holy words
leaves them self-assured.

Fast growing knowledge
scriptural college
read theology
what the learned see.

See them equating
knowledge inflating
with godly wisdom
blind to the schism.

Knowledge, yes, is good
God’s word understood
but wisdom it’s not
they differ a lot.

Knowledge puffs us up
wisdom teaches love
Knowledge is a start
toward wisdom’s heart.

Wisdom grows from life
in comfort and strife
lived before the Lord
in all things, adored.

Chalice

From my book, Soil of the Divine

In God’s hand
is a chalice
full with wine
dark red
nearly black
and foaming
flavored with His wrath
vengeance
judgment
poured for the wicked.

In the garden, late
dark skies, nearly black,
Jesus wept
and pleaded
with his Father,
“Let this cup pass,
there must be another way
to appease Your wrath
vengeance
judgment,
but if not
let me drink
to the dregs.”

And he drank it all.

He has mixed for us
a new wine
sparkling white
and sweet.
Grace
mercy
and peace
its bouquet.

Christ saved
his best wine,
the cup of forgiveness,
for his bride.

For in the hand of the LORD there is a cup
With foaming wine, well mixed,
And He pours out from it,
and all the wicked of the earth
Shall drain it down to the dregs.
-Psalm 75:8

Would you trade your eyes?

Would you trade your eyes
not for crystal blue or emerald green,
not for those with perfect acuity?

Would you trade your eyes
for those that see beneath
physical beauty and external adornment
or marital or career success,
or conversely see beneath
sin and brokenness?

Would you trade your eyes
for those that see
the beauty and goodness in another’s soul,
God’s image imprinted upon each person?

Would you trade your eyes for them?

What I if told you
they are already yours?
You have only to open them.

Image obtained from REBRN

A Thanksgiving Prayer (repost)

I initially wrote this in 2009, the year my wife was treated for breast cancer.

Cherished Father,
Thank you for creating in me a heart designed for gratitude
and this year, in particular, for reminding me
to be grateful

I thank you for the undeserved gift of your Son.
I am utterly broken whenever I ponder the cross
and Jesus’ sacrifice
and Yours
That saved me from an eternity of despair

Thank you for the gift of my wife
the woman whom you have entrusted to me
who has remained my joy
and my love

Thank you for my children
who live with vitality and passion every moment
and who look bravely to the future
casting a vision unclouded by doubt or fear

Thank you for adopting us as your children
demonstrating that we are true heirs in your kingdom
and allowing us to share that gift of adoption
with one of your precious little ones

Thank you for dear family and friends
who help us, support us, and love us
who we met on this journey
and who walk with us along the way

Thank you for secure employment
and a desire work diligently
to provide support for my family

Thank you for teaching trust
encouraging hope and
deepening faith
through Heather’s cancer

Lord, above all
I thank you for your never ending mercies
which remind me forever of your greatness
and instill hope that endures no matter what storms we encounter

A Morningtide Reflection

I arose early today, earlier than normal, well before the sun, even before my coffee pot began his daily work. I prodded him awake–yes it’s a him, his nametag does read Mr. Coffee–and he got right to work grumbling loudly.

As I quietly waited for him, I did a few odds and ends–a load of laundry begun, dogs let out into the darkness.  I confess, I too grumbled loudly as I cleaned up after the puppies.  It is most often at morningtide when I wonder why people have pets.

A hissing sound, Mr. Coffee clearing his throat, tells me that he is done brewing.  I fill my cup and sit at my desk.  Before turning on the lamp, I stare out into the darkness.  How long before the sun rouses? Two hours hence and he has yet to make an appearance.

I read from a variety of books, old and familiar friends: the Bible, a book of Psalms, and the Valley of Vision. I pick up a new book from one of the stacks that always surround me, Thumbprints in the Clay by poet Luci Shaw. Poets see beauty in the ordinary. Her opening chapter is a meditation on coffee mugs, a welcome read as I await the daylight. Shaw writes, “Somehow, the satisfaction of really good coffee is enhanced by the beauty of the coffee mug.” I pause to look up at my new mug, an object of beauty no doubt, hand crafted by the same caring hands that made my last one.

Somehow, the satisfaction of really good coffee is enhanced by the beauty of the coffee mug.-Luci Shaw

The casual observer would notice that the two mugs share a similar shape and size, but that the design is quite different. As an intimate observer, I notice it is lighter, perhaps only a few grams, but I knew the other so well that the change is immediately evident. I notice too that it fits my hand differently, perhaps in the same way that holding hands with my wife and daughter differ. Both comfortable, but somehow distinct.

As I feel the radiated warmth of the coffee upon my hand, I run my thumb over the textured trees, familiarizing myself with them. Lord willing, I will come to know this mug as fully as I knew the last.

And as I ponder, I am reminded that man too was fashioned from clay, bearing the marks of his Creator. Every person we meet bears evidences of God’s “thumbprints,” and each possesses a uniqueness and beauty found in no one else. Hand made things invite us to intimacy and point us to a deeper awareness of God’s love for the unique splendor of each image bearer.

Wisdom’s Drought

Words are frequent
but wisdom is scarce,
billions of voices raised
in praise
not to God, but to self.

Perpetual adolescents
assured of the veracity and value
of their own views
take to their keyboards
to offer their wisdom’s treasures
140 characters at a time.

With enough red hearts
and retweets
they can remain sure
that they are just what culture needs
when, in reality,
what is truly needed
is silence.

Judah’s Lion

The Lion of Judah,
walks the earth;
He began in a stable,
the humblest birth.

Now splendor and majesty,
He wears as His mane;
Our glorious King,
His death is our gain.

Strength and beauty,
reflect all His ways;
“of course He is good,
but He is not safe.”

We tremble in worship,
awed at His splendor;
forgetting ourselves,
in reverent surrender.

The seas roar aloud,
the fields do cheer;
all creation rejoices,
when Aslan is near.

Splendor and majesty are before him;
strength and beauty are in his sanctuary.
Psalm 96:6

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑