I cannot live in frozen fear
And yet, I often do
Fear of what you think of me
And what I think of you
I need the Savior’s loving grace
His wisdom, bright and true
His love for sinners and for saints
His love for me and you
That He would give my being
A voice to speak His love
His wisdom, truth, and mercy free
His view from heaven above
If You did not my soul inflame,
If You did not fill lungs with breath,
If You did not my mind engage,
Sure, that would be my sorry death.
Without Your spirit, none can live,
E’en those who do not yet believe.
It’s by Your providence, I know,
There’s reason to rejoice, or grieve.
We cannot understand Your ways;
We grope about, sometimes in ruin.
Or graced, find better ways of life —
But death, the whys will then illumine.
I’ve rarely been in frozen snow;
Those icy winds I do not know.
Nor traveled in the desert sands,
As hot winds blow ‘cross dried-out lands.
I never crossed the sea by boat,
Or walked in jungles lush, remote.
I’ve never seen the northern lights,
Or watched as geese took southern flight.
I never knew a grandpa’s smile,
Nor heard one say, “Just sit a while.”
Nor sat upon my daddy’s lap,
Laid down my head, and took a nap.
At least, I don’t recall that time
Of knowing father’s love sublime.
He seemed so distant, far, remote —
While sitting in his chair, he spoke …
Of intellected things, refined —
Of politics, and words sublime.
I did not understand his heart —
Perhaps in heaven, we will start.
Sixty washers and sixty dryers,
All going ’round in circles,
Never ending …
Until a buzzer rings,
Until the fat lady sings.
Here’s a family with two kids,
Here’s a senior, down on the skids —
Changing his clothes just after drying.
Here’s a young man just returned,
His clothes have disappeared, he learns,
Surprised and shocked, he looks around.
I’d wondered ’bout that lady who
Said, “Don’t know
Who these clothes belong to –
Are they mine?”
Well, eventually it was straightened out.
Indeed, she’d taken what was his
And into the dryer, along it went
Tumbling ’round and ’round, along with hers.
Next week, I visited once more.
The young man came inside the door.
I asked him if he’d got his clothes.
Of one pair socks, he was depleted,
He shrugged, not seeming too defeated —
Serenely accepting an item deleted.
I must believe God’s faithful love,
Else madness will my soul o’ertake.
If on myself I fix my eyes,
Despair will be my sorry fate.
I must believe, though I could choose
An easier path; with tide to swim,
To let opinion rule my life
And let the light within me dim.
I must believe the words God speaks,
When worldly cares do contradict.
As storm does rage; no shelter found —
But in God’s boat, all grace begins.
I must believe, and then one day
A shining light will lead my soul.
No longer strife and stress to sway,
My life at last found healed and whole.
A tiny speck, a mote of dust.
One of millions — of wind, a tiny gust.
A tiny atom, or particle minute.
All but invisible; a trivial pursuit.
So insignificant, mostly unknown.
Almost invisible — like a bird now flown.
But in Your eyes, Lord, as Your gaze falls on me,
I am soon made whole, and touch eternity.
Before I knew You loved me
Life was a desperate chore
A crashing bore
A quest for more
Before I knew You cared
Life was painful torture
A dissonant overture
A misplaced embouchure
Before I knew Your plan for me
(Or at least that there was one)
Life was confusion
A strong delusion
An ugly contusion
And then I knew —
And all was bright
And all was light
If only for a while
Now I go about in the dark
Working out Your plan
As best I can
Right here, right now
Is where I’ll find God’s will,
Somehow.
Not far ahead,
Not far behind,
But in this place,
God’s will is found.
Not in the future,
Not in the past.
Only what’s done for God
Will last.
Every burden
Borne with grace
Advances all
The human race
Every cheek,
To other turned
Absorbs their violence —
Hate is spurned
Every insult
Not rebuked,
Will throw your enemies
For a loop
To not strike back,
Withhold revenge,
Shows strength and power
In the end
clarakatalin 