Archive for the ‘Poem’ Category

Doing All to Stand

The dark cloud of trial
looms large overhead

I know the signs
I want to circle my wagons
okay–my wagon

my heart says it’ll be hard
my enemy whispers, “He’s left you”
everything in me
wants to circle the drain of my past
shouting, “alone! I’m alone!”

But God–
Your patient hand steering me,
through perilous forests of loss and
seemingly endless quagmire of sorrow,
has taught me:
I am not alone
I am never alone
I was never alone
I will never be alone
this young lion remembers

But the winds of adversity still blow
there’s still more in my heart
You’d have me know
my adversary whispers in my questions
“this will be hard,
you will suffer loss”

everything in broken me wants to cut bait
jump ship
throw out the baby with the bath water
move into crisis mode
find a solution

on come my plans
contingency plans
plans for protection
plans for the future
plans to stay busy
but not Your plans

You say, “Lift your head, sweet child
I have plans for you
good plans
future plans
hope-filled plans”

I don’t need more of my plans
I need faith
to believe Your plans

I must stand
doing all to stand
just stand
just wait
just be

He’s coming
He’s watching
He sees
He knows

It’s Him willing and doing
for His good pleasure

I am His
I am accepted
I am beloved
I am adopted
I am under the blood

this young lion rests


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I was ordinary in so many ways
not the best or brightest
not the worst or dullest
not the oldest
not the youngest

my composition so much working class
and small-town somebodies

Born a girl
raised fatherless
but not an orphan

penny pinching but not penniless
clothes from catalogues
before that was a thing

My gifts I squandered,
tossing my pearls before so many swine

not considering their value
not considering my value
not knowing my purpose
not knowing His purpose
not comprehending His plans

I was someplace
not a bad place
but not my place

I had a someone
not a bad one
but not the right one

I was encouraged to take credit
eyes on self

I did
I got
I wanted
I became

An “I”-problem stole my life

a life of glory thievery
nearly kept me from the King of glory
from whole life
healed life
abundant life
God-driven life
God-centered life
God-filled future

I stole His glory
I stole from myself
I stole my chance to bring glory
to be a glory giver
not a glory thief
to know the glorious One
to serve the King of glory

**Glory thief – one who steals for himself the glory that belongs to God
I am the Lord, that is My Name; My glory I will not give to another.
Isaiah 42:8a

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My Father’s acreage stretches to the horizon
further than a man on horseback
travels in a month,
land rich in flora
diverse in fauna
varied in topography
abundant in resources
lacking nothing

Still, I’m drawn to the fence–
pulled to the perimeter
the boundary fence my Father built
at my request
for my safety


I’m not fenced in
–they are fenced out
enemies in the land

But the fence–
the land on the other side of the fence
the land my Father rejected
the land He considered
but passed over as not good enough
sometimes it calls

the inhabitants
beyond my Father’s boundary
urge me to come over
coax me to breach the wall

the dark places within me are stirred
I’m drawn
then I remember

I recall the time
before the perimeter was established
before the fence was built
before my Father took over my protection duty
I got stuck in the sinking sand
mired in the mud
I couldn’t free myself
just beyond the meadow

Before the fence
it was hard to recall the boundary
I often lost track
of where my Father’s land ended
I wandered off more than once
He had to come for me

after my last foray
long days stuck in the pit
baking in the sun

I agreed to the boundary
I asked for the fence
I acknowledged my need

Something inside me is still drawn
to the fence
to what’s beyond the border
when my heart is heavy
when the past whispers
I climb up
and look over

My heart cannot but remember
the sweetness of my Father
His embrace
warmth of His arms
safety within His borders

I climb down from the wall
skip back to my Father

My home
My Shalom

Copyright 2019

For more information about resources available from the same author, visit RootedinHisWord.org

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This is not my home
I find no thrill
no comfort
no future

I long for You
to be with You
I long for life
eternal life
with You.

On days like this
subtle tricks on my mind
it plays
taking all the color
stealing all the joy
leaving me sad
but I can’t pinpoint

My hope is in You
Your Word heals my
shattered heart

days like these will come
but I will cling to You.

My Rock
My Fortress
My Foundation
My Refuge

restore me
renew me
breathe life into me
O God,
My God
as long as I am

Mary Beth 2019


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I never saw a moor;

I never saw a sea;

Yet know I how the heather looks,

and what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,

nor visited in heaven,

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if the chart were given.

                  Emily Dickinson


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 When storms arise
And dark'ning skies
About me threat'ning lower,
To thee, O Lord, I raise mine eyes;
To thee my tortured spirit flies
For solace in that hour.

The mighty arm
Will let no harm
Come near me nor befall me;

Thy voice shall quiet my alarm,
When life's great battle waxeth warm--
No foeman shall apall me.

Upon thy breast
Secure I rest,
From sorrow and vexation;
No more my sinful cares oppressed,
But in thy presence ever blest,
O God of my salvation

Paul Laurence Dunbar
Paul Laurence Dunbar, Poet

Paul Laurence Dunbar (June 27, 1872 – February 9, 1906) was an American poet, novelist, and playwright of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Born in Dayton, Ohio, to parents who had been enslaved in Kentucky before the American Civil War, Dunbar began to write stories and verse when still a child; he was president of his high school’s literary society. He published his first poems at the age of 16 in a Dayton newspaper. 

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Jesus is my Valentine



Jesus is my Valentine.
The lover of my soul.
He gave the perfect gift of love.
His life laid down for mine.

He’s written His words of love,
Laid out His plan to save
Pages bound with scarlet thread
A message in His blood.

He did not only pay for me;
He paid the world to save.
Each broken heart made well again
To eternal life, the key.

I’m betrothed to Him, His bride to be.
He’s coming back and soon;
My bridegroom longs to be with me,
So He’ll not tarry long.

Jesus is the righteous judge,
Wicked souls will meet their doom.
But as for me, I’m washed in blood,
His robe of white I donned.

Is Jesus your Valentine?
Does His blood your sins blot out?
There’s only one whose love can save,
One special Valentine.
Copyright MaryBeth Mullin

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