Year's End

What have I done
with this year,
stuffed with opportunities
and potential fulfillment?

Have I picked at it
like a plateful of food,
pushed around by
someone with no appetite?

Have I dived in
regardless of cost
or consequence,
and come away
bruised and a little disappointed?

Have I overextended myself,
so I cannot possibly
spin another plate,
and only stopped
to crash and burn?

Have I thrown caution
to wherever its meant to go,
and reveled in
new and exciting
experiences?

Have I learnt
to live a measured pace
of balance and watchfulness,
minding myself and others
carefully?

At the year's beginning,
I decided to take up painting.
It's the year's end,
and all I managed
was to paint a bedroom wall.

It's a blessing
a new year awaits,
with the possibility
to try once more.

Rest

And the Lord said to me,
"You do not know how to rest
and I would show you,
but you do not stop
long enough
to hear my softly spoken words.

The information flood tides
in your mind
whirl about and cannot settle,
even in your sleep.
You've troubled dreams,
and your spirit
has lost the art
of being still.

I would quieten you
with my love,
but you restlessly roam.
Receive from me,
and cease your elsewhere seeking.

I would show you
how to rest,
and not just through exhaustion.
To live in rest
and daily walk it out.

I would show you
how to be filled with peace,
so that no anxiety concerning
future uncertainties,
unlikely to occur,
can rob you of it.

I would show you how to be
and not to do,
for doing has its time and place,
but not in every waking moment.

I would show you many things,"
says the Lord,
"If you would let me."

Season Of Goodwill

Terrorist and politician
vie for center stage
in this season of goodwill.

Global policy makers and diplomats
stream through security screening,
to their guarded festive functions.

Presidents and royalty
skip through glossy pages,
consumed by multitudes,
then disposed of in recycling.

Actors, musicians and celebrities
seek the ultimate high,
and some die trying.

Tycoons and corporate heads
angst about tax haven efficiency,
and how to spend their next billion.

Displaced refugees
after their two seconds of news fame,
look forward to unknown ages
of housing hopelessness.

Overpopulated factories
churn out merchandise,
to separate the haves
from the have nots
more distinctly.

The fortunate few
at free funded gatherings,
will forget their daily misery
for a moment.

Pledges and promises,
bribes and corruption,
are rife in families with
small children,
and teenagers enhance
their negotiating skills.

People everywhere long
for the end of
the season of goodwill,
because
they have forgotten
or never heard
the real reason why it's here.

Tide

Soft sand
and shells
shuffling forward and back
in a time honored
tide dance.

Tumbling to a familiar tune,
meeting and separating
twice a day.

The sounds lull the listener.

It is hard
to feel frenetic
on a beach,
with pale, warm grains
between your toes,
and the intermittent breeze
that gently ruffles your hair
on its way past.

I sit on the snake of sand
found between
Pohutukawa blossoms
ready to burst
into crimson Christmas,
and the light chased blue
of the beckoning sea.

I listen
to the unchanging rhythm
of waves meeting shore,
dutifully keeping
within God ordained boundaries.

Mankind would do well
to do the same.

Hold On To Me Tightly

Hold on to me tightly,
through all the storms of life,
when waves threaten
to tip your little boat,
with all its precious cargo.

Hold on to me tightly,
when all is going well,
and cloudless skies
do not hint at future rain.

Hold on to me tightly,
when you love another
so much you cannot
bear to let them go
into my safe arms.

Hold on to me tightly,
when the way seems
cloaked with mystery,
and the path is not yet lit
with confirmation.

Hold on to me tightly,
when you are soaring
above the earth,
on achievements
that make you rightly proud.

Hold on to me tightly,
when all the world
is against you,
and you are misunderstood
and cast aside.

Hold on to me tightly,
when your sphere of life
is broken on its axis,
and sickness lays you low,
and all hope seems to fade.

Hold on to Me tightly,
for I made you,
and I know you,
and I love you,
says the Lord.

There Is A Time

There is a time for
all things under the sun.

A time to be born,
and a time to be held.
A time to question,
and a time to listen
carefully to the answer.

A time to make friends,
and a time to forgive those
friends when they hurt you.
A time to fall in love,
and a time to choose
to remain in love.

A time to work,
and a time to rest from your
all consuming occupation.
A time to look up,
and a time to look outwards.

A time to have children,
and a time to learn patience.
A time to care for elderly loved ones,
and a time to grieve their passing.

A time to go forwards,
and a time to re-evaluate
where you are.
A time for outward expression,
and a time for inward reflection.

A time to say sorry,
and a time to be forgiven.
A time for requests,
and a time for gratitude.

A time for celebrating success,
and a time for learning from failure.

A time to receive God's great gift
of salvation,
and now is always that time.

Lean Back

There is a spiritual rhythm
that we can learn to live by,
to lean back onto the Lord
and then lean out to others.

To lean back
is to have a place of trust,
to receive strength,
grace, hope, love.
To be securely close
to the one who loves you
with no separation.

To lean back
is to have a place of safety,
to receive comfort,
support, friendship, favour.
Where you can feel
the Lord's heartbeat,
and allow your heart
to learn the timing,
and live by it.

To lean back
is to have a place of rest,
to cease from self will and effort.
To still yourself to hear
the Lord's softly spoken plans,
that will undoubtedly
work better than your own.

To lean back
is to have a place of surrender,
to be willing to co-exist,
and see what communion really is.

To lean back
is to know you will be ready
and equipped,
for when you see it is time
to lean forward,
to bring blessing
in other's lives.

New Ideas

It's like nothing you have ever heard before.
Except you have.

There is nothing new
under the sun,
and that was said a while ago.

Quotation books are stuffed
with examples of original thought,
as poets and muses
tussle for the last fragments
of a fresh idea,
unpicking the seams of previous ones,
restitching them in the hope
no one will recognize their altered piece.

Words are jostled on the line,
like dancers wanting to be with the last decent partner.

They turn and turn about,
hoping their new position will make them more prominent.

But what's the point of all
these brightly wrapped
freshly thought new ideas,
if we don't seem to be able to comprehend
the ones that have stood the test of time.

Let's retrace our thoughts.

In the beginning God.

Word Received 8.11.2017

Put aside every evil that would try to ensnare you

and cling to Me for I am looking for a holy people

who will separate themselves from evil

and do good in my Name.

I do not want mixture in My people,

for then the world will not be able to see a difference

between those who are called by My Name

and those who are not.

You have a high calling.

Accept it by faith and obey My Word.

There is not time to be half-hearted,

so heed My Word and obey what it says.

Love One Another

Love.

It's what the world seeks.
Always grasping,
just out of reach.

The endless search for satisfaction.
The smash and grab
at love that breaks
on impact.

Self seeking,
self serving,
love lacking,
missing the point entirely,
and regretting every minute.

Hot heads,
cold hearts,
mean spirits,
degraded desires.

Restless and fruitless.

Pleasure from another's pain,
reward from another's gain,
victories measured out in bank notes,
and empty souls.

Plaintive self pity at the end,
realizing all along
we were looking for love
in the wrong places.

We need to learn from
God and His Kingdom
how to love one another.

Really, we do.

You Are Not Alone

You are not alone.
You do not have to
give yourself to another,
for cheap thrills
and passing pleasure.

You have infinite worth.

God became flesh to save you,
from the aching longing
that consumes your soul,
and drives you deeper
into darkness.

You do not have to sacrifice yourself,
on the altar
of permissive permission,
where anything and everything
is now somehow acceptable
to civilized society.

Shame and dishonour
have been cast away,
yet still somehow sticks
to the individual,
however much
they confess
their freedom of choice.

You don't have to sell yourself
into slavery,
to the growing compendium
of addictions.

You can choose true freedom,
that comes only with a price tag,
that another has already paid.

It is freely given.
It is freely yours.

Just receive it from
the Saviour's
out-stretched hands.

I Need You More

Lord, I need you more,
more than words can say.

I need you more.
Complacency sits
comfortably in my heart,
soothing my justice cry
for others into silence.

I need you more.
I find myself
satisfied enough with
this version of reality,
to stop the spiritual struggle
that breaks open true life.

I need you more.
To wake me up,
to see the hour
is so much later
than I thought.

I need you more.
I have appointments
not to be missed.
If I do,
there could be
eternal disappointment,
that no one can remedy.

I need you more
than my self protection
will show,
or my self preservation
will admit.

I need you more.
I will never comprehend
how much.
But I say it,
and I think I mean it,
even more
than yesterday.

Walking With A Limp

I walk with a limp,
because of what I have done,
and what others have done to me.

I have wrestled with God,
not face to face
as Jacob did,
but from time to time
over the years.

I have wrestled with
the aching questions,
the need to comprehend
myself and others
more than I do.

I have wrestled with God
about my frailty,
and He knows the depths of it.

I have wrestled with
wanting more than I now see,
something of the supernatural
that seems beyond my reach,
but is evidently there.

I wrestle for a while,
and then let go,
and walk away
consumed by my own lack.

I walk with a limp,
but I still choose to walk.

Mark of the Beast

Black and white
cowboy hats
are swapped.
The good guys
become the bad guys.

The law abiding
become the law breakers.
Outcasts,
society misfits,
refusing to conform
to take the mark.

Unable to buy or sell,
unable to travel
through security checks,
excluded from every
pervasive technological interaction.

A people group
refusing to bow,
as Daniel's friends
once did in Babylon.

They survived the
fiery furnace,
and walked out of it
unharmed.

Those called by
Christ's name
will face a future
challenge.

Whether to bow
to the demands of
the mark of the beast,
or whatever
the consequences,
continue to put their trust in God.

Supernatural

Supernatural
is not a huge amount
of natural.

Extra-ordinary
is not a special delivery
of more ordinary.

If I want to
live an extra-ordinary life,
I don't want to fill it
with excessive amounts
of more of the same.

I need to do
something
different.
Something beyond ordinary,
but I am only human.

God is supernatural.
He is above and beyond
the natural world we live in.
He can gatecrash with miracles,
and confound skeptics.

He can act like He is
in charge of the Universe,
because He is.

I wonder if
He would like
to join His supernatural
to my ordinary,
and together we could do
something quite

extra-ordinary.

Heaven

Light

and delight,

and joy exploding

through your being.

Fullness and wholeness,

and every question answered,

and every need met.

Old friends and new friends,

and family of so many generations

welcoming and loving,

without holding back.

Grace and peace.

Hope and joy.

Healing complete and forever.

Listening and seeing

sounds and sights

inexplicable yet totally real.

Laughing and hugging,

and being held in perfect love.

Praise and worship.

Lifting and pouring forth gratitude,

and revelation of God’s great grace.

Your Saviour beheld,

and clasped hands held, 

welcoming you into eternity with Him.

Contended Dream

The enemy is contending
for my dream.
He has seen it
as I have,
but somehow he believes
in it more than me,
and will stop at nothing to destroy
its destiny.

He uses different tactics
depending on the mood
he finds me in.

He stirs me to overdo
till exhaustion lays me low.
He smothers my heart with pain
to cause it to go cold.
He distracts me
with pleasant things
that fill my soul space,
or unpleasant things
that downwards drag.

He brings along
some words to suppress
my spirit,
or puff up pride.

His armory appears endless
and time is on his side.
He has come across
humanity before,
in all its fragile forms
beset by original sin,
and not so original ones.

He tries to side swipe
my God given dream
out of my hands
by crafty cunning,
as I fail to see
he is behind my trials.

Yet God still loves me.
He is still with me,
and His perfect will is in the dream
He entrusts me with,
to bring forth future fruit.

My faltering faith
He touches with His mighty power.
His Spirit revives me,
and He shines His light upon my path.

He lifts my eyes to see Him,
and we lock our gaze
as He talks me through
the steps to practice,
until our perfect dance comes forth,
and I can say again
to the enemy,
'You will not have my dream today'.

Flu

My head is split
three ways,
like kindling
waiting to start
a fever fire.

My throat aches
when I try to talk,
when I cough,
when I breathe.

I long to escape the pain,
seeking somewhat relief
in pharmacist medication.

My life energy
is diverted
to viral warfare.
I age suddenly,
walking with weary gait
and down-turned gaze.

Multiple destinations of discomfort
compete for my attention,
all unwelcome visitors.

Pain makes itself powerfully
at home
as the virus blankets me.

It runs its cursed course
through my life,
all the while
stealthily seeking
its next victim to infect.

Well Done

'Well done good and faithful servant.'
How we long to hear
those spoken words,
when all is done and dusted,
and world is wrapped up,
to be replaced
with something infinitely more wonderful.

Well done for what?
Being part of Christ's body on earth?
Showing up on a Sunday?

The well done will look much deeper.
It is for all the times when you faithfully did
what you were born to do,
even when no one was recording it
for posterity.

God saw and He smiled.
Such a smile,
and He only gives that particular smile to you.

For within its frame is held
every interaction
and conversation
between the two of you.
All your struggles,
all your triumphs,
all the choices made
to never give up on
your together journey.

'Well done' will mean what is does to you alone.

And you and God will share another smile.

Words

Words
without
sequence
wait patiently to join
creative coherence.

Each word strung together
with so many syllables,
soft or strong,
produce life change in the hearer.

Some words only come out
on special occasions.
Others feel overdone,
hackneyed.
But even they will have their day,
and change a life
for better or for worse,
and not just at a wedding.

A thoughtless word shared
still becomes a thought
in another,
intended or not.
Some words lodge deep inside the soul,
stuck,
revolving and resolving
to escape or be at peace,
unable to find another home.

Some words heavily laced with hope,
are themselves amazed at how much difference
they make to so many.
They stop and stare at themselves
imprinted on page,
or embedded in bronze,
for posterity.

They smile inwardly,
imagining more discerning yet difficult words,
page stuck in an
un-thumbed thesaurus.

A set of words
once
used
cannot be deleted,
however many attempts
to push that particular button.

They remain forever
in the world,
busy about their task,
producing life or death
in the lives of you and I.

Meditation on 2 Corinthians 13 v 11

"Finally brethren, farewell. Become complete.
Be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace,
and the God of love and peace will be with you."

Become complete.


It is a high calling,
and far reaching,
and totally impossible
by myself.
It is a striking challenge,
a shout across
rooftops of lives
lived in half measures
and almost there's.

Become complete.

I want to
and need to
and part of me
agrees totally.
The other parts
are still counting
the costs
and doing the maths.
(Something I have
always found
an insurmountable task.)

Become complete.
I get it
and I don't get it.
It's simple profundity
causes me confusion,
as with all matters
of life and faith
that appear startlingly
straightforward,
until you begin
to attempt them.

Live in love and peace.
What does it mean,
to be willing to lay down your life?
Meanwhile my self preservation
makes bookings for a bunker.

Become complete.
Give up
and give in
and give out
and receive in
and flow out
and I'm not quite sure
if I'm up for that today.
(Yesterday was a challenge.)

Become complete.

It wouldn't have been said
if it wasn't possible.
How do I become complete?

Meditation on Isaiah 42 verse 6

"I the Lord,
have called You in righteousness,
And will hold Your hand."

The Lord will hold my hand.

How would it be for the Lord
to hold my hand?

Strong, secure,
caring, loving,
all knowing,
never taken by surprise.

Aware of the final outcome
of any and every event.
Not flustered, unfazed,
deliberate, peaceful.

Gracious, grace filled,
grace giving and receiving.
Not condemning or judging,
allowing love and light to overcome.

Wise and understanding,
measured thoughtfulness and response.

Thinking and wanting
the best for others,
seeing them through Heaven's eyes.

Unhurried, unstressed,
in total balance,
replete and ready
to share every good gift.

Righteousness and right living,
and forgiving,
and welcoming again
any who have turned aside.

Beauty and truth,
worship and wonder.

How would it be
for the Lord to hold my hand
each day?

Try Hard

I have been
such a try hard
for God.
Trying hard
to get it all right,
say the right things,
behave the right way
in every situation.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so broken.
Broken in my thoughts,
what I say
and what I do.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so judgmental.
Judging others
for what they
say and do,
and whether they are
getting it right or not.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so selfish.
Thinking how to make
my life better,
more comfortable,
more successful.
But God loves me anyway.

I have been
so weak
in my faith,
not understanding
everything there is to understand.
But God loves me anyway.

I don't do
enough for others,
give enough of
what is mine.
But God loves me anyway.

I am weak
and foolish
and double minded
and imperfect
in so many ways.
I'm so glad
God loves me
anyway.

Goodbye

I hate
to say
goodbye
to you.

It is heart havoc,
wrecking my soul peace,
pain waves
crashing into me.

Our closeness
is wrenched out of its socket,
tearing me as I lose you again.

Connected by blood,
separated by time and space.

The cruel age of travel ease,
divided by distance loved ones.

You are absent to me,
yet I know you exist
vibrantly,
in other's lives.

Our time together grows
increasingly precious.

I long for the life to come,
when goodbyes
will be gone,
forever.

Legacy

What will people say about you
when you leave this room,
this life?

What difference made
will be noticed,
remembered?

What wisdom words
will others onward carry
from you,
noting their origin
with fondness?

How do you change
the atmosphere when you arrive?
Are others glad to see you,

or see the back of you?

Do you stand out in a crowd?
Do you want to?

Can you remember the last time
someone was thankful
for a kindness you did or said?
Can you remember the cause?

Do you understand how others
look at you,
see you,
think about you?

Is it a true reflection?
Are you the same with others and alone?
How many different masks do you wear?

Do others know that you love them,
care for them,
treasure them?
Is your life precious to them?

Do you understand what legacy truly means?

Do I?

Psalm 23 Verse 3

My soul has been weary,
exhausted,
frazzled and fried,
troubled and tired,
worn out with other's cares.

The Lord is my Shepherd.
He restores my soul
on a narrow coastal path,
with sheer cliff face.

My stride has slowed,
watching for the time
in my over busy life,
that I can rest.

Bracken and purple tufted heather
tumble down to the
white tipped waves,
meeting billowed mist
rolling off towering rocks.

I come here
full of expectancy,
that I will somehow
find my answer
in this place.

Wild goats wander
the impossible incline,
with a sure footed
defiance of gravity.

I find myself still
in a hurry to do life,
unwilling to truly rest
for time is preciously short

We stride out
resisting the threatening skies,
buffeted by wind
at times so loud
we cannot hear each other's words.

South Wales nestles
in the far distance,
among cloud castle ramparts.
The late afternoon
creeps towards dusk.

I begin to find peace,
held securely
in God's strong hands,
on this winding way.

The busy past and restless future
are somehow kept at bay,
and surrounded by
His own Creation,
the Lord begins
to restore my soul.

Temptation's Door

Do not linger long
at temptation's door.
The longer you stay,
the harder it will be to walk away.

The longer you linger,
the more likely you are
to grasp the handle,
and set the door ajar,
just to look.

The longer you look,
the more the vision
will fill your senses,
until the siren call
drowns out your conscience voice.

The longer the vision
dances before your eyes,
the harder it is
to see darkness for what it is.

Your eyes grow accustomed
to the lack of light,
and the shadows do not
frighten you as they should.

You stand on the threshold
with the door swung wide,
and nothing remains
except for you to take the final step.

Thoughts of consequence
have long since gone.
Wisdom words of the Creator
duly discarded.

The high price that will be paid
does not register
until it is too late,
for the one who has
lingered long at temptation's door.

Numb

I feel numb
from hearing your news.
It is your tragedy,
and it will change your life
in every way, forever.

I feel numb
at your loss.
A numbness that has settled
as silence around my soul.

I sit
and am shocked
at life's unexpected blows,
that do not drop a single person
but all those close around.
A ten pin tumbling
of shattered lives.

Close tragedy makes us numb,
but we steel ourselves
as we watch the news,
so we do not break down daily
and weep at the fruit
of this so broken earth.

We can become immune
to suffering,
as if we have
vacuumed sealed our souls,
and no longer feel
rejoicing or despair.

So I will allow this
state of being numb,
and will not chase it away,
for it shows me my soul still cares,
and I want you to know I do.

The Long Way Home

It's a long way home
if you are walking
in the opposite direction,
refusing to heed advice
or wisdom from others honesty,
or the Creator's manual.

Your journey takes you through
deep chasms of chaos,
hard hurdles of
broken self promises,
anguish and agony
of self defeating
errors of judgment,
as destined dreams are destroyed.

You live only
for the moment,
but in that moment
life looks like death,
as you take short cuts
to nowhere good.

You are a servant to no one,
but a slave to all
who would call you
to sacrifice everything,
with nothing to show for it,
but the revelation
you should have changed
direction long ago,
as you count out your
misery marking milestones.

The long way home
doesn't have to be.

It is much closer than you think,
if you turn around now.

Burning Bright

I see your life
burning bright,
glow of God's Spirit
in you,
manifestly present
by His presence.

Encroaching darkness
does not dim
your brightness,
but adds
beautiful contrast
to your witness.

The lines are
clearly drawn.
There is no
mistaking now
those whose
walk witnesses
to the world
wonder and God's glory.

Some may not
understand or
want to see,
but the brightness
of His light
in you shines
for them anyway.

Your light beckons gently,
the safe space among
the world's ever
increasing injury,
as events so crammed
with trauma
drip feed despair
from every device.

So burn bright
and do not
dim your light
through choices made
without understanding
proper preparation,
and critical consequence.

Your one light life
can show the way
to multitudes,
if you allow yourself
to be perfectly positioned.

So keep burning bright.

Burn bright.

Burn bright.

Devil's Wrath (Revelation 12:12)

"Therefore rejoice, O heavens, and you who dwell in them!
Woe to the inhabitants of the earth and the sea!
For the devil has come down to you, having great wrath,
because he knows his time is short."

Time is running out,
almost gone,
the devil's wrath,
sins last hurrah,
before our Savior's sighting.

The devil dumps
the final onslaught,
wrecking relationships,
ruining romance
between covenant beloved.

Sowing stress
and stretching beyond breaking point,
parental bonds with child.
Disrespecting venom
vomited out
on humanity,
regardless of creed or colour.
Kindred consumed with hatred
that is not their own.

Potent poisons
in plentiful supply,
unkindly offered
to drown more sorrows,
sourced from the accusers armory.

Rebellion first found in heaven
courses condemned
through Eden and beyond,
tempting humanity
to follow him into forever darkness.

The ready remedy
blood bought
with salvation sacrifice,
can be received right now,
but the eventual ending of evil
is yet to come.

But it will come,
and usher in a peace
and rest and joy,
so unimaginable as yet.
If we could glimpse catch it now,
we would never again wish
to align ourselves
with the devil's wrath.

Rhythm Of Righteousness

There is a steady repetition
of righteousness,
a rhythm of grace
that counts out each day,
as the beat
of an eternal drum.

A conscious choice
of conscience,
not seeking dull religion,
but the extreme expression
of fully lived life,
day by day.

Each choice continues
to add
artwork strokes
currently unclear,
but when in time revealed,
will show the Artist's brilliance.

Unseen and
unapplauded actions
form faith foundations,
strong enough
to raise life's landscape,
disrupting devil's plans.

Each decision daily
determined on,
build walls of righteousness
unconquerable to outsiders,
that can only be betrayed
by the one within.

It is our hidden
thoughts
and unseen
actions
and unheard
words
that most need this
rhythm of righteousness,
and as we search for it
we will find
all our answers
in Him.

False Doctrine

The enemy's intention
to separate God and man,
and mankind from each other.

Subtle turning of truth
to appear with authority,
but underneath
the usurping Edenic lies remain.

Hindering the Father's freedom
for His children,
glorious liberty constrained
by turgid tradition,
and aspiring arguments
sent to suffocate.

Contentions and
peace ripped harmony,
broken by bad behavior,
sanctioned by serpent cunning,
dishonoring close kindred,
and collapsing covenant.

Partial plausibility digs
false foundations in the heart,
tarnishing other truths
as they are filtered through.

There will come a day
when all false doctrine
with tears will be wiped away,
as we see God as He truly is,
and each other as we truly are.

Until then Lord
protect us from all that
would separate us,
from each other,
and from You.

Undone Action

The undone action,
pending post,
floats through the consciousness,
as a dust mote
trans-versing a beam of light.

It is not regarded
yet ever present,
the detritus of dreams
and waking moments,
preventing peace.

The spirits of future events
refusing to be silenced,
drifting in on unrelated tides
to bump annoyingly on the mind's shore.

The undone action
can be of little consequence,
but night hours twist it out of shape
until it is a monstrous looming,
magnified behind its illuminated screen.

Daylight shows the impostor
for what it is and yet
it lurks at curtained edges,
waiting to charge to center stage.

Self talk verbal tick repeats itself,
the interchange continuing
without conclusion.

When at last
the undone action
becomes itself undone
by being done

it settles to the mists of memory,
but not before tag teaming
a similarity to take its place

renewing resistance
of peace's reign
within our fought for minds.

Mother's Day Card

The Mother's Day card
strewn with stickers,
scrawled upon with
clenched fist strokes.

Pasted with glitter glue
and torn tissue paper.
Big bright red hearts,
crossed kisses and round hugs.

Excited presentation
of art
indiscernible
to all but the artist.
An elephant, duck, or tree
viewed with the eyes of faith.

The mismatched kisses
duly counted and received.

The glow of pride
as the masterpiece
is displayed for all to see.

Priceless treasure.
The tangible trophy
of a child's love.

The greatest of gifts.

The Mother's Day card.

Word Received 11.5.2017

Go in the power of My Strength
and do not become weary of doing good
and you shall receive a just reward.
Do not seek the praise of man
or the rewards that the world gives
for My Kingdom has a different currency
and the workers of My Kingdom
are given different wages.
Do not envy others achievements
but be faithful to what I have called
you to do as you labor in the vineyard.
Do not seek your reward elsewhere
but look to Me in all things, says the Lord.

Hypothetical Faith

I want to try to bring
my ordered
hypothetical faith
into real life,
but sometimes it refuses to fit,
or even to comprehend
the mess it is surrounded by.

Neat arguments about
the do's and don'ts,
become undone
in the presence of fallen man.

I want to grasp faith fully
and forward step without faltering.

It sounds so simple,
yet a hundred jostling jibes
want to dissuade me,
suggesting I return another day.

Sometimes I feel like hypothetical salt
in a container whose lid cannot open,
in case some grains escape
into the community,
and cause havoc
with healing in the streets.

I look for Jesus
to wipe His feet
with my hypothetical tears,
but He is busy
about His Father's business,
and I realize afresh
so I should be.

Lonely Road

It can be a lonely road
to do the right thing,
to be a blessing
when cursing is all around.

To do the good thing,
even the best thing,
when most are
settling for less.

To go the extra mile,
to have a caring heart,
when others linger
at the starting line.

To have the kind word,
and share it too,
to go
against the general flow.

To make your voice heard,
your opinion known,
to have a point of view
and not waver to and fro.

To change your course
to help another,
even when it costs
you more than your money.

It can be a lonely road
to do the right thing,
but the call is always there,
if we will do what we hear.

Easter Baptism

For to me,
to live is Christ,
and to die is gain.

He stands with silted salt water
swirling around him.

I baptize you in the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Spirit.

He is immersed
in the ocean,
clinging cold with winter current.

Fiery red hair submerged
for a moment,
identifying with His Savior's death.

Rising again with a shout,
and resurrection reality
wrapping round.

The seal of the Spirit,
and heaven's glad witness
of this sight.

The sacred sacrament
encountered by multitudes
around the earth,
revisited this Easter Sunday.

Repent and be baptized
Jesus said.
Obedient observance
the only right response,
and so he did.

Pause

An Easter art installation
draws me in.
Scores of white feathers
falling,
suspended in a spot light beam
by nylon thread.

Captured by imagination
as if frozen in time.
They descend each
on their own individual journey,
untouched by another.

One starts to spin slowly,
caught in an upward draft
caused by someone passing by.

Different feathers
turn
and
turn
again,
forbidden to fall
but designed for flight.

Beauty draws me in
and I do not want to leave them.
I pause
and become still
in my own silent space.

I know again the One
who loves me in all
my hurry and worldly cares.

The One who waits for me
to stop
and breathe
and say hello.

He is my treasure
and I am His,
but sometimes I forget
as the world presses in.

I am glad this art
has helped me take the time
at this great celebration of Easter
to remember what Christ has done,
to be deeply grateful,
and
to PAUSE.

Unity

Unity
brings the impossible task
to achievable reach,
and blesses more than
one soul
on the way.

Unity
is strength in togetherness,
recognizing our differences,
but not retrenching in them.

Unity
is arriving at a place
of wisdom and strength,
where I can honor another
without losing myself.

The Trinity
in perfect unity,
shows us it is
eternally possible
and highly recommended.

The Lord's blessing
rests on those in unity.
His favor cannot settle
where division rules.

Unity
is a precious treasure
to be sought for,
and fought for,
and preserved by humble yielding hearts,
to our Maker
and each other
for the blessing of all.

Unity
touches the heart of God.

First Love

I think about you all the time.
When I wake
I am already thinking about you.
When I sleep
You are my last conscious thought.

I replay the times we have together,
and I am there with you again,
in the midst of glorious life.

I repeat the words you have spoken to me,
and my mind embraces them afresh,
with joy and gratitude
that you are in my life.

I feel so safe when I am with you,
as if no darkness could touch me,
or anything go wrong with my day.

I find myself talking about you to others,
and catch myself smiling in the mirror.

My heart is full of you.
There is little space for other things.
Things that once seemed so important,
are sidelined and forgotten.

My heart is yours forever.

My Lord and Saviour.
May I never lose my first love for you.

Prophecy

Prophecy.
The Word of God
touching the will of man.

Man's struggle to surrender
and God's given grace.

Words of hope
and promise,
waiting to be grasped
and carried towards birth.

Sometimes rejected
they fall to to the ground,
waiting in expectation
for others to receive them,
and redeem them as their own
in years to come.

Generational blessing
manifested,
by those who choose
to walk on God's safe paths,
goodness and protection,
not fettered,
but free to live the fullest life.

Word of God
and will of man
in co-operation,
vision seen to birth
and growing to bear fruit.

God's Word in prophecy
carrying infinite power,
touches our mortality,
and allows us
to hold eternity in our hearts.

Furnace Fire

Furnace fire
from the throne room,
crossing onto
the threshold of earth.

Swirling around us
as we pray,
glimpsing God's
great glory and power.

Fire and whirlwind
combined encircling,
as His Holy Spirit
manifests miracles
in our midst.

Deep peace at the center
of the rushing flames,
wrapping in
manifest presence.

Deep delight
in revealed goodness,
healing free gift
by grace received.

Wonder and awe
at eternal majesty,
drawing near
to touch our frailty,
with so much love.

Wide Eyed Grief

Wide eyed grief,
as silent and as still as death,
wraps my soul
in darkness.

I cannot comprehend
normal life,
and uncaring faces,
that glance but do not know
my journey.

Knife edged grief,
piercing and prodding
at inopportune moments,
causing complete crumpling
of my paper heart.

Eyes so tear blurred,
they cannot see
the carded words of comfort,
and must blink away
as worn out windscreen wipers,
accomplishing nothing.

Thick fogged thoughts
in a heavy head,
grapple with everyday chores,
ten times slower
and done without delight.

Heavy numbness
alternating erratically
with shooting pain.
The heart jostled
by crowded emotions,
unable to find
the space to breathe.

Regretted unspoken words,
and more so completed actions
that can no longer be undone,
linger as fellow mourners.

Death is always unwelcome
whatever the arrival time,
as it ushers in
this wide eyed grief.

What Time Is It?

It is time to count
with the measurement
of eternity,
and not with the short trapped gaze
of this passing age.

It is time to lay up heaven treasure,
so that we do not
with wistful tears,
wonder what our lives
might have been.

It is time to go into the
harvest fields,
and with word yoked actions
pull forth
weight of blessing into other lives.

It is time to talk with those
whose grief edged loneliness
smothers them,
allowing their fragile formed words
space and time.

It is time to refuse to judge
when help is needed,
and to not wait for thanks,
knowing recompense
will come in other ways.

It is time to run the race,
to fight the good fight,
and to hear the well done,
when this time comes to an end.

Don't Forget What Time It Is

Don't forget what time it is
when it's late at night,
and you seek selfish satisfaction
in the wrong places.

Don't forget what time it is,
and let careless pleasures
that do not build your life,
rob you of your days to come.

Don't forget what time it is,
and cause offence and trouble
in others lives so they
waste their days in bitterness.

Don't forget what time it is,
and let the enemy
rob you of your potential,
leaving you ashamed and broken.

Don't forget what time it is.
You have a destiny in God
that only you can fulfill
on the whole earth.

Don't forget what time it is,
that those around you are not told
the eternal destination changing
good news you already know.

Don't forget what time it is,
for we are appointed to live once
and then comes the judgement.
Don't forget what time it is.

The Lane Continued

A full twelve months has passed
since we saw each other.
My black laced boots
rhythmically crush the deep white powder.

Ancient apple boughs
with winter burden bowed,
glimpse through icicle hung hedges.

This snowy lane is steeped
in memory.
We first kissed here,
and made private promises,
that did not withstand
his families different plans.

 A purposeful heavy tread,
magnified in the sparkling air,
draws closer.

I dare not look behind,
until strong hands
hold my shoulders,
and turn me towards
his enveloping embrace.

Words still unnecessary
as our eyes express
everything.

Hearts press together,
separated only
by heavy winter clothes,
and propriety.

Visible frosted breath
meets moments before our lips.
Our souls reconnected
and clinging closely in delight.

Covenant words of commitment
will soon be spoken
in others hearing
in ancient chapel.

But as for now
we are blissfully
alone in this lane,
and his words of love
are simply
whispered to me.

The Lane

I saw you again
in the snow lined lane,
hedges thick with frost on ice,
bending boughs
cracking in the thin air.

I remember a time
when we were not
yet strangers.
We laughed at the same jokes,
and looked at each other
for signs of encouragement.

The awkward hug you gave me
did not convey
what you intended,
or what I wanted,
but it was the first time
we had touched for years.

Then there was that
fragile faltering farewell,
thick with
wanting to be spoken words,
that fell silently to the ground.

I found myself
waiting for something more,
wanting something more
from you,
than this unsatisfactory brief exchange.

We used to be so close
as souls that see
each other through
a sea of others.

I've walked the same lane since,
hoping a second sighting
would stir a different response.

But now Spring
has long since gone,
it seems you have retreated
to your so different world,
leaving me alone in mine.

Word Received 8.2.2017

Do not be only hearers of the Word but be doers also.

Manifest My Kingdom on earth by doing the works of My Kingdom.

Don’t just talk about it. Do it.

Heal the sick in My Name and do not doubt.

Cast out spirits and do not fear.

Use the authority I have given you to defeat the powers of darkness

in people’s lives and in places that would keep people in captivity.

Do not be conformed to this present age but transform it 

by the power of My Spirit, says the Lord.

Failure

We do not like to fail
and yet we do.
All of us to a degree,
some more honest about it
than others.

Some find the failure
attracts their continued attention,
others dig deep burial pits
to hide their failures in.

It is a common past time for mankind.
We fail often
and sometimes seem stubborn
to learn from the simplest of lessons,
returning anew
to the place of our failure,
with a winsome wish
that this time it will be different.

Of course it is not
and failure becomes our friend,
the only one
we can truly rely on
to turn up,
as we try to forge forward.

Failure seems to choose us
as if we had won
some sick life lottery,
that is stacked against to us to ever succeed.

A history of failure
becomes a future of failure,
as night follows day,
although the days are very short
and the nights unreasonably long.

Does this pitiful pattern have to persist
or can we somehow be free?

There is One who is faithful to
forgive me of all my failures
and show me a different way.

If only I can agree to receive
this forgiveness,
extend it to others,
and learn to forgive
myself
when I fail.

Soundtrack

Heady youthful years
when we lived
beyond our fears
lost in the soundtrack of our lives.

It returns to stir us
in later life.
Tuneful memories
linked to
exhilaration or emotional pain,
love found and lost.
Long days and nights out,
inhabited by the cast
of our former selves.

One ling of a song,
four bars of music,
and we are transported back.
It is as close to time travel
as we will ever get.

Fully alive,
raw and rough
around the edges.
Musical history
that does not exist in museums,
but only in our minds,
as each one keeps a
soundtrack of their lives.

Begin Again

When life has
stacked its circumstances
against you
so insurmountably high
that you can't see anything beyond
begin again.

When disappointment
has rubbed rough salt
into your former wounds
so that you wince
from the pressure of invisible pain
begin again.

When discouragement
has removed the mat
from under you
and the floor
and left you sprawled on hard dry dirt
begin again.

When the vision
that burned beacon bright
has dimmed
to dull intermittent glow
begin again.

When your spirit
aches for even
a drop of living water
to ease the torment of desert thirst within
begin again.

Nothing is beyond you.
No dream, vision or plan
now dropped or discarded
is truly dead,
if only you can find the courage to
begin again.

Enemy

My enemy drops
words of hatred,
sinking lead weighted
into my soul,
ready to be hooked up
into my conscious thoughts
at a moments notice.

Left long enough
not dealt with,
their toxicity spreads
its poison,
and the diseased seeds
unnaturally spring
forth new and bitter growth.

The cruel words spoken to me
are spewed from a churning pit
of fear and pain,
entrenched by years
of practiced unforgiveness.

There is no sign of compassion,
grace and mercy
that marks humanities restoration
towards original intention.

Instead the broken and scarred outworking
of sin,
left unchecked
to run its violent course.

My response if undisciplined
is judgement and contempt,
but I try to tread a different path.

My heavenly Father
bids me that I would become like Him,
and bless those who curse me,
and pray for those
who spitefully use me.

I choose to do this
not because it is easy,
but knowing if I don't,
my face will reflect my enemies
and my heart turn out the same.

Teen Party

Some were drunk before they got there.
Others arrived
with an ammunition of alcohol,
enough to take down an army.

She clutched her one drink
with wide eyes,
watching the others
staggering and slurring
around her,
oblivious to her sobriety
and lack of peace.

She willed away the hours,
hoping her handsome hero
would arrive
and notice her.

He did arrive
on the arm of another,
and she cast
downward eyes.

Something kept her there.
The hero had smiled,
and his smile had glued her
to the ground,
unable to walk away.

He looked at her again.
Her resistance melted,
she was his for the taking.

He moved towards her,
and the palest blue of his eyes
suddenly seemed cold.

She felt darkness press against her,
and stepped backwards,
feeling the familiarity
of the wallpaper pattern
with her outstretched palms.

Good to see you,
he said with thick sweet breath.
She turned her head
so his lips collided with her cheek.

With acrobatic agility
she extracted herself
from the moral conundrum,
and fled from the party
to return safely home
to her bed.