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Posts Tagged ‘Christian Poems’

Peace After a Storm

When darkness long has veiled my mind,
and smiling day once more appears,
then, my Redeemer, then I find
the follow of my doubts and fears.

Straight I upbraid my wandering heart,
and blush that I should ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part
or harbor one hard thought of Thee.

Oh! Let me then at length be taught
what I am still so slow to learn;
that God is love and changes not,
nor knows the shadow of a turn.

Sweet truth, and easy to repeat!
But when my faith is sharply tried,
I find myself a learner yet,
unskillful, weak, and apt to slide.

–William Cowper (1731-1800)

William_Cowper_by_Lemuel_Francis_Abbott

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a lone tree
clings to the banks of the raging river
leaves tossed
boughs bent
daily tested by the elements

its roots dig deeper
holding the tree to the shore
security sought in the deep rich soil

how the barren tree during the storm
its leaves blown off

how ugly the tree
its bark patched
its branches twisted

but the clouds disperse
the sun greets the little tree
coaxing it heavenward

by the time the warmth of Spring arrives
the tree is covered in green buds
a promise of many leaves and much fruit

References:
Psalm 1:3 He shall be like a tree Planted by the rivers of water, That brings forth its fruit in its season, Whose leaf also shall not wither; And whatever he does shall prosper.

Job 23:10 But He knows the way that I take; When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.
Copyright MaryBeth Mullin

 

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Sufficient

We who love Jesus
are flawed
broken
jagged
sharp

We are the Mary Magdalenes,
the women at the well,
the women with the issue of blood
the women caught in adultery
the impure
the unclean
the tax collectors
the prostitutes

Others reject us
hate us
are repulsed by us-
the proof of our sin
woven into our garment
but no longer tarnishing our souls.

We fall short
we disappoint
we’re harsh
we’re weak
we hurt others
we hold grudges
we back-bite
we defame
we’re difficult
we’re hypocrites
we’re human

But God
separates us
sets us apart
in Him
we find our sufficiency

In God
is our bond
we call out, “Abba”
the children of God
He loves us
planned for us
bled and died for us

He restored us
He justified us
He made a way for us
became the way for us
He is sufficient

We are not orphans
He will return for us
Our Great God
Our Good Father
Our Savior and Redeemer
Jeshua

He has never–
not for one moment
never–no never
lost sight of us

We are His
He is ours
He is sufficient

We grow weary
we give up
we run away
leaving chaos in our wake
ignoring the pain we cause
the slights
the cuts
the dagger pushed in
to its hilt
pulled out, dripping crimson

We hate
we kill
we kill hope
we kill ourselves
we hide dreams under burial mounds

we resist righteousness
we resist goodness
we resist gentleness
we resist kindness
we resist all that would bring us peace
nevertheless He is faithful

We are insufficient
But He is sufficient

 

Mary Mullin, Copyright 2020

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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
self-made
self-supporting
self-reliant
self-focused
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

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I’m not fenced in
–they are fenced out
danger
threat
predator
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
transfixed
wooed
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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Irreparably Broken

Irreparably Broken

I swim in the waters of my trial
your promises buoy me
I feel peace descend
A canopy over me
I will be all right

But clear waters turn swiftly to rolling white caps,
crashing on the sandy shore
from underneath, I feel the pull, the undertow of sorrow
pulling me, threatening me, holding me under the surface,
to drown me

I struggle to stay afloat,
reaching in my prayers for the arms of my Father, wanting You to take me from these waters
snatch me out, take me with You.
“Take me!” I cry. I want to be with You–completely with you

My tears are little comfort, my soul is bruised,
my confidence shattered,
I am broken.
I will never be the same.

You don’t correct me.
It is so. Irreparably broken.

Copyright 2016

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I know my heart has prayed this prayer . . .

Prayer for Song

Mend my broken mood,

Maker of Life and Song,

Lest this interlude

Of silence be too long.

Call my soul awake,

Set my heart aflame!

Singing fire will make

Ash of sloth and shame.

Touch my lips with song,

Wing my words with good.

Shepherd of things gone wrong,

Mend my broken mood.

—Fay Lewis Noble

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