Childhood Photos

I saw her childhood photos-
my wife of thirty years.
That innocent age I never knew-
the guilt my mind now hears.

Were in our twenties when we met-
were free of childish things;
but now would welcome the return-
the innocence childhood brings.

I wonder had I seen those pics
years and years ago,
would I’ve done more to keep in mind
the girl I didn’t know?

I can’t relive those thirty years,
but the next ones are on me.
Layer by layer I’ll strip away
til that little girl I see.

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Light of Men

In need of Your light Lord;
my life is such a mess.
Without it there’s no hope Lord;
of this I must confess.

Show me what to do Lord;
I’m ready to listen now.
My way didn’t work Lord;
would you please show me how?

Didn’t intend to forsake You Lord,
but I guess that’s what I’ve done;
one thing then another Lord,
till there’s little of the One.

Forgive me of my wrong Lord;
come and light my way.
Show me what to do Lord;
hear these words I pray.

Help me as I start Lord;
often please remind.
Show me everyday Lord;
life as You designed.

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The Streets He Walked

The streets He walked were made of gold;
stepped down to dirt and stone.
That we might one day be with Him,
left angels round the throne.

The light of heaven came to us
with truth to light our way.
To any who believed in Him,
with Him they’d ever stay.

With Him to walk the streets of gold,
forever in His light;
then we the ones around His throne,
then we our God in sight.

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My Cage

A few months ago, I joined a jail ministry team.  I really didn’t know for sure what to expect.  I guess I’ve always thought you would go in and try to convince a group of guys to believe or accept something they had no interest in. 

It has really been quite the opposite.  For the most part, the guys that come on Tuesday nights realize God has put them there to get their attention.  With few acceptions, they all believe, but realize their believing has not been sufficient enough to change the way they live. 

God knows how to get our attention doesn’t He.  Just this last Tuesday night, I told them that I may not have bottomed out in a way that landed me in jail, but I bottomed out in  my Christianity and He stopped me to get my attention.  Not to punish me, but because He had something good for me that He wanted me to find. 

I tell them that I am not a preacher, which I guess I really don’t have to mention.  (Some things go without saying)  We talk.  I tell them what has changed my life and the part writing has played in it.  Occasionally I leave a story or a poem with them. 

We have some good discussions.  They are honest and real.  A few weeks ago, one guy, who had a good way with words, expressed both belief and unbelief.  He believed but he was hesitant to just jump on the wagon.  Like all of us, he wanted it to be real.

Last week he came up to me afterwards and said he had written a couple of poems and wanted to know if I would read them and let him know what I thought.  I have decided to post one here today. 

 

My Cage

 
My addiction is a cage;
it wants my life.
It’s filled with confusion,
pain, guilt and strife.

It’s cold and it’s lonely,
regret my only friend.
Is this a life’s sentence?
When exactly will it end?

I weep for my family.
On this journey I’m lost.
I long for freedom;
can you tell me the cost?

I search for answers;
they must be the key.
My will is my bond;
my faith sets me free.

Yet I remain a prisoner
and console myself each night.
I’m still locked in this cage
but at least now it’s filled with light.

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The Way of Abraham

I have walked the way of Abraham;
not knowing where the end.
But to test my trust He pointed me;
to the mountain He did send.

Will He say ‘Enough!’ – ‘the test complete’,
when my willingness He does see?
When I saddle up and begin to move,
will He then say ‘enough’ to me?

Will I travel on till the end’s in sight;
will He then say ‘far enough’?
Will He let me climb just so far,
but not past very rough?

“Before too late, I will provide”,
but yet I see no ram.
I’ve reached the top, the fire is hot;
are we to be the lamb?

“You’ve hoped in vain” the voices say;
‘my God will not come through.
I’ll never hear Him say ‘enough’;
I’m here to pay my due’.

My mind is set to bind us all;
for years we’ll have to pay.
I’d hoped to hear Him say ‘Enough!’
somewhere along the way.

My trust required to bitter end;
the end my trust will meet.
My trust remains, it’s still in tack;
this now my test complete.

He watches close so not to miss,
He knows His timing’s near;
as promised from the very start,
at last . . . ‘Enough’ I hear.

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Truth

The crowd was strong in Jesus’ day;
they pressed to hear what He would say.

They heard the truth, so clear He spoke;
soothing sound since the church was broke.

Sure there were some who weren’t that enthused;
the truth that He taught, had long been unused.

But too there were some who believed when they heard.
It says that ‘they hung on His every word’.

In the vacuum of truth, the soul restless grows;
a longing compels to know what He knows.

So Lord help us first, to see what You see;
and then to convey, what You meant to be.

Help us lift truth amid all that is wrong,
for some to believe, for all who do long.

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Of Faith’s Foes

I read a quote on ‘faith’ today,
and trouble’s we are due;
it’s not so much to get us ‘round,
but more to get us through.

When trouble looms—impending doom
and no way out we see;
faith’s the guide that leads us through –
what each our steps should be.

‘Doubt’ the foe that blinds the eye
to faith’s impending light;
‘impatience’ then the driving foe
that keeps us in our night.

‘Normal’ the pervasive foe;
to discourage is its goal.
‘Who are you to trust in faith;
you’re just a ‘normal’ soul.’

What list of foes would be complete
without the dreadful . . . ‘fear’;
the constant sound, ‘He’ll not come through’
that’s ringing in our ear.

But faith’s illum’ning light still shines,
though foes may endless be;
to light our path when darkness reigns,
that His way we can see.

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Lake House

From the lighter side: written for a couple who’s lake house we spent the summer in while renovating it.

He cut a spot by the water’s edge
gave tranquil for its name;
those whose path would lead them there,
they will not leave the same.

The soothing sound that water makes
as it laps against the shore,
and the settling as you look across
that somehow helps restore.

The hustle fades as time is spent,
cares, they drift away;
in its place is a slowing down
and a compelling urge to stay.

Praise is due to two I think
for this setting that we see;
first the One who made it all
for our serenity.

And then the one who’s lake-house draws
us to these tranquil frames,
by removing all distractions
so we will not leave the same.

For if the lake-house has the things
that satisfy our whims,
the tranquil wonders might miss our eye
as things distract and dim.

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A Mother Cries

A mother cries, ‘Oh Lord my son’;
there is no hope but Thee.
I beg of You, please spare him Lord,
in this my painful plea.

O church rise up and fight the fight,
join in a mother’s cry.
Lay hold the hem and don’t let go;
don’t quit before you try.

A mother cries, lone voice is heard;
she’s weak against the foe.
Whose heart is moved to lend a hand?
Who’ll stand to make him go?

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Silver Bells

The Silver Bell

In 1510, when the tower of St. James’ Church was first erected, three silver bells were hung in it.  Their peals are rung on special occasions such as royal births, coronations and deaths.

In 1540 England, for the annual horse race at Chester, a silver bell was given to the winner in lieu of an embellished wooden ball that had been given prior.

  

Silver Bells

 

Silver bells from bridals hung –

adorn for all to see;

they remind of former races won –

the prize for victory.

–

Silver bells at Christmas hang –

adorn for all to see;

they remind us of the race He won –

the prize for you and me.

–

Silver bells from towers rung –

to warn, announce, and call;

with resonate sound their peals rang out –

their message was to all.

–

Silver bells at Christmas ring –

to rouse the slumb’ring ear;

they call to all who hear the sound –

the need to love is here.

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