The hand of Jesus directs our ways.
We struggle with sorrows all of our days.
We look for treasures with an earthly gaze.
And bow before Heaven in Spiritual praise. Continue reading
Wondrous!
Of all the important things I have been allowed to consider in my short life, I marvel at the impact of the instrument of humiliation, degradation, punishment and death the Romans called the crucifixion. It was an instrument of such cruelty that even the Roman emperors banned its use for over 300 years. Yet when I look upon one solitary instance of its use I see it as a wonderful and beautiful demonstration of the greatest love ever known. I am not able to just glance at it, I must gaze on it, ponder it, and survey all it represents. For on this very such instrument, He who is the most worthy of honor and glory was hung and there He willingly gave His life for me. When I compare all of the riches I could possibly expect to obtain in this lifetime to the event of the cross of Calvary, I see them as miserable abject failure and trash in comparison. Any measure of pride I might see in myself, my accomplishments or my desires, I now see as contemptible wasted effort. Continue reading
After Fear, Then What?
Some days, I too, live in that prison of fear. It is the place where rational thinking has no home. It is the place of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ ruling over sanity and reality. It is the home of the tyranny of the urgent lording over men’s trust in their creator. It is found in the days following December Seventh, November Twenty Second and September Eleventh. It is seen in the terrorized faces of a community in search of serial killers and monsters raping children. It is what causes sane rational secure adults to give away hard fought for freedoms. It is a personal prison of past trauma arising in uncontrollable reminders that life is not nearly as placid nor secure nor peaceful as we would hope it to be. Continue reading
Faces
I see the faces. I hear their cry.
There’ll be many more, before I die.
The tales they tell. The sadness they hide.
Each story is heard from hearts opened wide.
They’ve fallen hard. Some have landed on top.
A few enjoy feasting; others just slop. Continue reading