The unsung villan

Discomfort in the crib, little whine will do,
Imbibe in the bottle, cry an hour, maybe two,
Until I'm satisfied that I'm the center of existence,
Cute, but in need of repentance,
Though I'd be praised if I put together a sentence,
Other than the one I owe,
See, If I had the strength of a man, you'd be dead when I lose control
When I spill my bowl,
Without the finger strength to grab the knife and slit a throat.
You're shocked because that's so dark,
But more so are men's hearts,
And mine was just waiting to grow.

In the lunch room, sitting in my class row,
Setting down my tray establishing room for my elbows,
Stomach impatient, in the middle of throes,
Telling me get going and have no respect for the slow,
Skip the prayer, let go, and take the last roll,
Remark back to the other kid who wanted it also,
But I'm not giving this, fair is my foe,
And I took and kept that roll with the strength of my soul
This is the nature in all men preparing to grow.

Drop the task, let the moment relax,
Quit the activity, just let it pass.
Too much stress, unblessed
Because you're willing,
Striving to find life
In that which is only killing.
Billing happiness by the minute,
Never letting go until you won't let go,
And when you won't let go, you've given up all control.
This was your life, without Christ as lead role.

Elusive

Smack, splash!
That's the sound of fear raining down and the boy dropping cash
As he jets through the alley like it's a forty-second dash.
There's no time to reason, his instinct says run.
His body only seeks to evade the sights of another man's gun.
Death is no fun, it's a dish you don't want,
Evil from its origin, always on the hunt.
With the riches in his arms, in his bag, and pockets,
Eyes straining for light, but the enemy blocks it
And catches up like a homing rocket.
But he will not get the boy just yet,
As first the boy thinks his enemy forgets.
He doesn't see a tail and thinks he's free at last,
But then he checks his loot and it withers in his hands like grass.
Dreams broken like glass, cries bouncing off brass,
And at the end of it all, the enemy appears to harass
And laugh at the boy who thought he had what no man can keep.
Then to double death went the broken boy to sleep.

Presence made clear

It's been over a month again.


It's that white-hot feeling of knowing that God is near,
Distance once gaping has been closed with tears,
But the dilemma is still pressing, though with only stillborn fears
Trying to tempt me to believe that the truth ain't clear.
But He's standing right here.

A best friend dead with sisters pleading in dirt,
O Master if you were here you could have prevented our hurt,
If only you were here, had been, or never left,
We wouldn't have had to put our brother into the rock's cleft.
But the Master wasn't deaf, He knew all that was occurring.
He even planned it to show the Father's glory, alluring.
They were murmuring, see how He loved him.
He loved them all so much they got to see how He loved them.
Bleed how He loved them.
On a tree till it was finished, the greatest deed done for them,

It's that white-hot feeling of knowing that God is near,
Distance once gaping has been closed with tears,
But the dilemma is still pressing, though with only stillborn fears
Trying to tempt me to believe that the truth ain't clear.
But He's standing right here.

Blind man waiting for a whole lifetime,
Never saw a thing, until it was the right time
And then, in a moment his eyes were opened,
When the Lord did a work so eyes would be opened
Dragged to the synagogue testifying of hoping
And how hope met grace after decades of groping
Seeking what he couldn't find, finally found him,
Testifying till it hurt, and then his eyes were opened again.
For Who he sought was standing right there,
And so he worshiped on the spot, the Lord's presence was clear.

It's that white-hot feeling of knowing that God is near,
Distance once gaping has been closed with tears,
But the dilemma is still pressing, though with only stillborn fears
Trying to tempt me to believe that the truth ain't clear.
But He's standing right here.

A Distraught woman with a stain-filled life,
Burdened by past relationships intensifying her inner-strife,
Until she met at man, at the well, a new acquaintance, see,
Another man who rubbed her wrong, pointing our her delinquency,
She fought back a bit with some quick quips,
He shared the greatest grace in silencing her lips
Showed her that the well wouldn't free her,
Showed her that He was the only One Who could see her.

It's that white-hot feeling of knowing that God is near,
Distance once gaping has been closed with tears,
But the dilemma is still pressing, though with only stillborn fears
Trying to tempt me to believe that the truth ain't clear.
But He's standing right here.

Angry --> Grateful

Lies increase the anger, and anger solidifies the lies.
Who ever thought that illusions could blind?
Anger says you were wronged,
But you've been so wrong.
You've believed you deserved differently.
What planet are you on?
What did you receive that wasn't given to you?
What didn't you receive that was surely your due?
What sacrifice was made to put the payment through?
And you think you deserve and so have a right to be angry?
You think you were wronged and are owed an apology?
Just remember that you were once an enemy,
And were only justified because God acts sovereignly,
Had you remained blind, you would have remained dead.
Because he opened your eyes, you could rightly dread.
Waked to truth, you repented instead,
Understanding your predicament, deserving Hell,
Understanding thankfulness is the only attitude that suits a man well.

faith in bleak times

No, it's another no, another silent walk home.
Another day, another day closed, in the same clothes
Another "we regret to inform you" over the phone,
So how am I to act, and react to this bad news?
It's been so long since I've felt glad, what am I to do?
A simple answer, a formula is just too trite,
I need a revelation of Jesus, filling this darkest night.
I need to see the cross He bore for me and what I was.
That nothing can separate us from the love of God's own Son.

And so in the darkness, in the sorrow, in the mourning song.
I'll trust in God and His power to finish what He's begun.
Only He can change this road and lead us to life and peace.
Only He heal our wounds as our King and God's High Priest.
So bless the Son Who knows our struggles and bore all our grief,
Give Him glory by trusting fully, enduring all with firm belief.

His ways are wisest and full of health, directing away from death.
From God the Father, to us, His children, has come all good, even life and breath.
Never pleased in the wicked's dying; He disciplines to bless,
Let none charge God with question as if God's intentions needed test.

Drawn in by the fine clothes, and the nice names,
Sweet sounding voices and the filled-frames.
Such is so smooth, and seems pleasing to the eyes,
Pulled in by the promise that if I had this I'd be satisfied.
But I don't feel satisfied and I'm told the same,
That if I follow that path, in the end I'll be slain.
I don't want to die, but I surely want life,
Find me that water, that will fill this well tonight.
From my heart the well-spring, what's contained
Is as only as good as the measure of fresh rain.
Or the water that comes from below that flows from beneath,
That saturates my soul and fills and my sieve.
Persevere and don't give in,
Remain in the boat when floating in waters of temptation.
Lies will call out, but don't heed the siren's voice.
Trust in the Lord, He's the only trustworthy choice.
Remain steadfast, and fast from doing evil,
Keep close the promise that He will,
Redeem you, when you will face death,
That the judgment you deserved, was born on His breast.
That He, the Righteous God, withstood God's full wrath for you and no less,
That He opened up Himself for you to enjoy and be blessed.
To know God, and live, to obtain His favor, full,
Wisdom to live and die by, to live again forevermore.

just practicing

Filling up on deeds iniquitous, not innocence, now we're in a bind, the kind you can witness,
Survival of the fittest, and twisted, no mercy for the devilish, no rest for the wicked,
Keep those deeds coming, keep running for cover, this is the day made for you to discover,
That the world was and will never be easy, cliches that are cheesy just made you believe me,
Before you couldn't even see me, because you were blind, see, I freed you from the darkness,
Mark this, that no one enters without a name on the list, not even the star-dressed,
For sure not the lawless, only the flawless, formerly the former, but no longer a goner,
Made into a treasure to treasure the true treasure, measure by measure to praise for gracious pleasure,
And then there's the hook, that you were hooked, a crook on death row,
And yet for your sorry soul he took the full blow.
Opened up His full treasury and sent His greatest prize, Whom you despised,
The only Son begotten, the apple of His Father's eyes,
Sent to show perfection, and then put death to death, by being put to death,
For His Father's honor and respect.
Not to gain from you, who were created by his very breath,
You have nothing good to offer Him that wasn't already secured in His death.
You couldn't do good if not attached to Him, just a limb, without a vine, bears no fruit,
Those kind are cast into the fire having no good root.


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