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Seek Ye First

I woke up this morning,
My throat is dry.
What shall I drink?

I woke up this morning,
My stomach is empty.
What shall I eat?

I woke up this morning,
I need to get dressed.
What shall I wear?

I woke up this morning,
And all this reminded me
That I must seek first the Kingdom.

Waking, I drink of His blood,
And eat of His flesh, which is the life of the world,
And put on his righteousness.

Waking, I am reminded,
Empty and naked,
Of my need for communion with Christ.

I walk out the door to start the day.
I see the birds, the lilies, the grass.
They are nested, nourished, and clothed.

And now so am I.

That’s For Me

Not the one who walks an aisle
Not the one who says a prayer
Not the one who always smiles
Not the one with no despair

But the one who looks at Christ
And says, ‘that’s for me.’
‘I would pay any price,
‘But thank God it is free.’

He has seen the world’s commercials
And once he cared for its offer.
But now there has been a reversal
And Christ has become his only coffer.

The New Old Rag

An old piece of cloth that had become quite frayed
For years in the dark of a closet had laid.
It served no good purpose, but only collected grime and dust,
As it laid and decayed in the dankness and must.

But then one day amidst its blight it saw an unfamiliar sight,
‘I do believe’ it said with fright, ‘this must be the thing called light.’
Someone indeed had opened the door
And removed the rag from its familiar store.

‘This rag is old and dingy and torn’ said the one who had removed it,
‘I do not think I can clean it up, but perhaps I can renew it.’
The remover had quite a skill for making old things new,
And the old rag had been quite changed by the time that he was through.

The new old rag now hung on the wall in the light as decoration.
But he could not believe a rag like him could experience such transformation.
And sure enough, as he had feared, the darkness came once more.
The dream was over, back to the lightless closet, as it had been before.

But the sun rose next day and he found he was not in the closet at all.
He was still a new rag who lived in the light and hung upon the wall.
‘And can it be’ he said with joy, ‘that the dream is not a dream?
For this great thing called morning comes each day and I am still the new me.’

Snippets: Who Shall Separate Us From the Love of Christ?

I offer my poetic paraphrase and expansion of Romans 8:35-39:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
 
Fiery trials may come, the walls around us crush us in,
But he is in the fire, and provides our sweet support.
We may have no bread, and be stripped of all our clothes,
But he is the bread of life, and robes us in his righteousness.
We may be on the edge of death, the sword pointed in our back,
But he has dulled the edge, our shield has taken the blow.
We may be led as sheep to the slaughter,
But as the Lamb is a Lion, so we conquer.

For his love and power prevail,
And his love is set on us.

For the Word and experience has proved
That death is gain,
That to live is Christ,
That demons bow,
That potentates hold no sway,
That dynamite is weak,
That He is Lord of the present,
And will be ever so,

That no god in the heavens,
Or demon in hell,
Nor anything on the earth,
Can separate us from the love of God in Christ our Lord.

Snippets: Why did Daniel keep Praying? The Need to Pray

  • When Daniel knew that the document had been signed, he went to his house where he had windows in his upper chamber open toward Jerusalem. He got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done (Daniel 6:10)

Not because he was a rebel: He went to his own house apart.

Not because he wanted trouble: He did not start a petition or hold a sign.

Not because he had a death-wish: Jerusalem was the longing of his heart.

Not because of his powerful position: He got down on his knees time after time.

But because he had trained his body and soul by repetition –

By a life of spiritual discipline.

The lions might tear him apart,

But lack of prayer might break his heart.

Only those who by habits have been enslaved

Truly know what it is to need to pray.

Phone-Art

My daughter and I went to the art museum today.
They have a special exhibit featuring Monet.
But I was mesmerized by the self-portrait of Van Gogh,
And a bunch of people talking on cell phones.

They move on from one portrait to the next,
Not raising their eyes, as they send their texts.
A girl sitting before the likeness of the crucifixion of Christ,
No need to look, the pictures on her Facebook app sufficed.

As I explained to my daughter, my parental duty,
That portraits are illustrations of human creativity and beauty,
We critiqued each one, admiring shades and hues,
And wondered what these painted men would say if they could.

They’d probably say, ‘Get off your phone,’
And let out a groan.
There’s only one thing more awkward than being stared at when you’re beautiful,
And that’s being ignored.

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Not my best poetry, but true nonetheless.