Jesus

Tested and True

 

I'm being tested....

And I feel, the fail.
For I am not worthy,
Of not even 1 nail.

I'm just a sinner,
Imperfect and flawed,
Compared to Perfection,
I'm just a fraud.

In my moments of weakness,
He is my steadfast might.
In my struggles in darkness,
He is my Guiding Light.

But by His Grace,
My soul is unstained,
Because of his Gift,
I'm no longer chained.

He comes in gently,
And I feel His arms,
Holding me closely,
Protected from harms.

He comes and He washes,
Away all my shame,
He calls me, His 'Beloved',
He calls me by name.

So if I'm being tested,
I now know I can't fail.
He tells me to not hide,
And lifts off my veil.

For there's no shame before Him,
We can't ever hide.
If we chose, to choose Him,
He'll walk by our side.

Forever in step with,
And of His accord,
I'll never be without...
My Savior...My Lord.

 

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An Armchair Theologian

I believe! I Believe! Lord, help my unbelief

I believe, I believe, my constant motif

I believe but don't grow

And my faith doesn't show

Because I can't be bothered to “do”

 

I know faith is given, not earned

Yet here I sit unconcerned 

I'm given to resting 

When I should be testing

To see that my faith is real

 

“You shall know them by their fruits”

But seeds planted on stones don't have roots

My apathy grows

So nobody knows

That I don't follow what I believe

 

The path down below is a slope

So gradual and smooth that you hope

It stays just the same

Like a current so tame

But leads to a waterfall

 

I'm not living, or learning

I'm sitting and burning

Lord I want to live

But not if I give

My time or my life

My comfort for strife

Is there an easier way?

 

You said believe and I shall be clean

Believe, and come home again

But how can I start

If only my heart

Wasn't an armchair theologian

GRACE

 

Oh Lord, we come before You, 
On this Thanksgiving Day. 
We ask You for Your Blessing, 
As we gather now to pray.

 

Bless this food before us, 
Of which we will partake. 
Forgive us all our sins, 
And mistakes that we may make.

 

Strengthen our very souls, 
Make us worthy of You. 
Keep us safe, from any harm, 
In everything we do.

 

Guide us every day, Oh Lord, 
Show us right from wrong. 
When we are feeling weakened, 
We pray You make us strong.

 

Father, we give You thanks, 
For loved ones gathered near, 
And we ask that You watch over, 
All those, that aren't here.

 

We pray for peace and harmony, 
Upon our struggling earth. 
We thank You for the precious Gift, 
You gave us, in Your Son's birth.

 

Oh Lord, we thank You for everything, 
You have blessed us with again, 
And we humbly pray, all of this, 
In Jesus' name....Amen.

This I Know

Folder: 
Psalms

Though I was born into sin

My Savior, He died

To bring me back home once again

And Heaven did shake

And the saints they did cry

For salvation of sinners and I

 

Now this I know

From the scars in His hands

That He died, with me on His mind

He died then He lived, and He rose up on high

The gifted eternal is mine

 

Now someday soon

The Bride and the Groom

Will join in the sweet by-and-by

The angels will sing

And the trumpets will sound

As we join our dear Savior in the sky

Author's Notes/Comments: 

First two verses and a chorus of a hymn, perhaps I'll return to it someday.

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A Spiritual Valley

Sunday morning Gospel

At a southern Baptist church

Praising with the choir

Listening to the Word of God

 

Where grudges are forgiven

And friendships re-united

We sinners find forgiveness,

Family, and a home

 

But here I sit

Alone at home

I couldn't be roused

To my own Father's house

 

I can hear the church bells in the distance

Calling white-washed tombs to repentance

Calling broken souls to be renewed

Calling crushed hopes to stand firm

 

Yet, here I sit

Looking out the window alone

Listening to their tolling

Refusing to be more

Than an armchair theologian

 

If my “deeds” are just words

Then they are not worth talking of

If I didn't speak to my Father today

Then why do I expect answers

 

If we are “the Body”

Why are we so apathetic

So CONSUMED by our own lives

That our faith wastes away

 

And as these thoughts come to me

I make myself more comfortable

Still refusing to be any more

Then an armchair theologian.

Trust in the Spirt

Love your enemies,

do not give in to the hate

that is what they want the

most, to feed off your fear

and doubt

 

Trust in the spirt,

for it is all,

there is no other

but the father

 

Wolves in sheeps clothing

will come in droves to 

discourage you from what

is most true

 

Like viruses, their ideologies

and philosophies will attempt to corrupt your point of view

 

Only through him

can you purge yourself of this corruption

that has taken over your body and mind

 

The world is the prison of the false

for it was created as mockery of the real,

by him who call's himself "god"

 

A god of lies, you no longer have to be under

his perverse eye, for the truth will shine through,

and will guide to the spirit of all. 

 

For there is only one true god

and his love is our own,

for we are all united in his knowledge

as long as we choose to accept it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Requiescat in pace

Peace

The feeling of rest

After a hard day's work

The weightlessness of relaxation

Finally

 

Serenity

No reason to fear

No longer any worries

My mind is happily blank

White like new-fallen snow

While I sit by the fireplace

On a Christmas morning

 

Calm

For my spirit is calm

My soul no longer pains me

I'll soon fall asleep

To waking dreams

And an eternity

Of sunrises  

Barrels

Folder: 
Love

For at the bottom of my heart;

The dregs of my emotions lie

I'd given all to you

And you drank without satisfaction

I filled your glass over and over again

Yet you could not be content

 

I had nothing left to give

And then, like so many before

I was thrown aside

Cast out like a leper

But the thing about barrels

Is that they can be refilled

And someone wanted me to be filled

They poured their heart and soul into me

They completed me until I overflowed

They granted me a purpose, and a meaning

 

So now as I look upon you

Inebriated in your unfulfilled grief

Wasted in your past iniquity

I pity you

For we cannot be connoisseurs only

But we must be barrels as well

For we cannot drink alone

But must be drunken from again