Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Posts tagged ‘Jesus’

Asking of God

Has He healed you?

Has He loved you?

Then act like it.

Has He comforted you?

Has He forgiven you?

Then act like it.

Tell your story;

Give Him glory.

If you don’t know Him – ask.

If you can’t trust Him – ask.

If you want to be closer – ask.

Have men betrayed you?

Have harsh words slayed you?

Has hate unmade you?

Then ask –

And you will receive.

All you need, not all you want.

Not what you dreamed, but more.

Some People

Some people don’t have it together.
Their home is a mess,
Things everywhere —
Do they not care?

Some people don’t have a car.
They walk everywhere,
Or maybe on bike,
Or the bus not on strike.

Some people don’t have a living.
They’re tired of giving
All of their energy.
They need a strategy.

Some people still haven’t learned,
They often are spurned,
They don’t have a life,
Their life full of strife.

Some people need so much hope.
They don’t need the dope.
They need Jesus Christ,
Who alone can give life.

Perspectives

So painful when we misunderstand each other.
Different ways of seeing things;
We grew up in different worlds.

I’d like to listen to your pain,
But it hurts too much
To add another pain to my own.

Education helps –
Exposed to different perspectives.
But can I keep my identity
And still cherish yours?

——————-

I used to think that
When we disagreed,
You didn’t love me.

——————–

Are you a liberal or conservative?
I’ve decided that I’m a libative.

——————

There is One who knows all our pain —
Yours and mine –
But do we know His?

Woman at the Well

No one else could make me see,
My faults, my failings,
Without embarrassing me.

I suddenly
Came face to face
With my selfishness.

I still don’t know
If I see it all.

Breath of the Spirit

Breath of the Spirit,
Refreshment so deep.
Sanctified waters,
‘Midst noonday heat.

Sharpening dullness,
Bright’ning the dark.
Lifting the lowly,
Humbling hearts.

Without the Spirit,
There’s naught we can do.
Please fill us, dear Jesus;
Make hearts one with You.

Faith Comes In

 

The picture is blurry,
The end is unclear.
The boat, it is leaking.
The vultures draw near.

But this is where
Faith comes in,
Faith comes in,
This is where faith comes in.

The rope, it is fraying;
Your hands getting weak.
You don’t see an opening,
Some comfort you seek.

And this is where
Faith comes in,
Faith comes in,
This is where faith comes in.

The last pennies jingling,
The bills left unpaid.
The doc’s diagnosis
Has made you afraid.

You drive in the darkness,
The rain pouring down,
Dear Jesus, please help me
Get back into town.

Your friends, they have left you,
Or so it can seem.
You’ve used all your options,
Might give up your dreams.

But you need to let
Faith come in,
Faith come in,
You need to let faith come in.

There may not be answers,
You just need to trust … and let
Faith come in,
Faith come in.
You need to let faith come in.

All I Have to Offer

All I have to offer
Are these poor rags,
My poor attempts
To “be somebody”.

All You ever wanted
Was for me to be happy
Just for being alive,
For being created by You.

Redemption has transformed
My rags into riches.

My thread is woven
Into the beautiful tapestry
Of Your creation.

Still, I sigh and moan
While on this earth.
But all will be well.

Broken Sidewalks

[Memories from my teenage years…
I hope people can relate it to their own unique identity struggles,
whatever your ethnicity, religion, or other unique characteristics.
We all have them, and they are all valuable.]

Playing hooky from Biology class,
I walked on broken sidewalks,
The weeds poking through the cracks.

I passed white picket fences
And Victorian houses.
The old immigrants lived there —
the Portuguese, the Italians.
I felt the oldness of it all,
The vines growing on creaky fences.

The sidewalks broken —
like my old life.

I confessed to the Biology teacher.
He forgave me; he was a kindly man.

It was a town of immigrants —
But not my own people —  then.
(Didn’t realize I was an American!)
I spoke Hungarian —
not Italian, nor Portuguese, nor Gaelic —
No other Hungarians in town.

Lord, where do I belong?

You are my Rock and my Anchor;
You knew me all the time.

I’ll forever be an exile on earth —
But I’ll come home to You.

The Quiet King

Do you ever feel like the Drummer Boy?
Nothing to bring to the quiet King.
Nothing to give, except your sin.

Do you ever look inside yourself,
But empty finding, look above.
It’s only there, that there is Love.

And then open your heart to let Him in.

I Live in a Dream

I LIVE IN A DREAM

I live in a dream …

I live in a little English village
Where everyone knows each other.

I go to the butcher shop
And meet Rev. Franklin Graham and Pope Francis.
At the tea shop,
I enjoy tea and tisane with Agatha Christie,
Hercule Poirot, and Miss Marple.
I also see J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis,
G. K. Chesterton, and Dorothy Sayers there.

I say hello to John Henry Newman,
Martin Luther, and St. Francis on the street.
———————

I take a trip to the United States…

I meet Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump –
Through a series of misfortunes,
They have lost most of their money
And have become very humble people;
They regularly meet for coffee at their local coffee house.

I go to a poor section of town.
The unemployed people are busy
Keeping their neighborhood clean,
Working in the community garden,
And going to school part of the day to better their lives.

I go to a rich neighborhood …
No one is home because they are in the poor neighborhood
Distributing clothing, helping in the community garden,
And teaching English to immigrants.

———————

This is my dream …

I no longer worry what you think of me;
I focus on Jesus and try to do His will.

I no longer try to prove I’m right and you’re wrong;
I respect your opinion and will state mine if you’re willing to listen.

I have peace in my heart
Because I have let go,
And given everything to God.

[Reconciling different elements in my life: Christians
with differing viewpoints, political factions, the rich
and the poor, and my own inner conflicts.]

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