Give Up?


As a man practices so he becomes.  Those who practice wickedness are dead even while they live.  But those who continue to practice belief, hope and righteousness, have the promise from He who cannot lie.

“I look on the faithless with loathing, for they do not obey your word.” (Psalm 119: 158)  Do not doubt that word, my friend.  It is as real as your desire to quit.  Even more so.  For you will cease to live, yet he remains forever.

If you’re going to give up, no one can stop you.  Perhaps you’ve decided that’s what you want to do.  And you’ve already started making preparations.

You ought to stop for a minute and think about these things:

The man who pushes through the impossible often finds great treasure.  And He Who plays the violin with determination often excels.

But the one who gives up, dies where he stands.  What joy he may have found is ripped from his possibilities.  And he’s done this to himself.

And the one who simply dabbles in music never plays the beautiful song.

You may not have great standing before the Holy Lord.  But to stand at all, for any length of time, is better than to shrivel up and die.  And to have the Lord look on you with any measure of kindness, is better than to have him lothe your life.

Get up!  Have faith and keep kicking!  You have no idea what tomorrow brings.  It would be good for you to try to remember the way it was before you started to try.

If the possibility of reward does not fire you up, perhaps you ought to think of these things from God’s perspective.

He made you.  He allowed you to understand.  And he placed far more hope in you than you can grasp.  You owe it to him to try.

Perhaps you did not realize it, but Christianity is not a feel good religion.  We are not called to be happy for the sake of pleasurable happiness.  We are called to die, everyday all day long.

Poetic Justice


The Morning News tells me about you;

The things you did last night.

You shot a gun.

And now you’ve won

Fame’s blazing white bright light.

You’re quick on your feet.

Eyes, sharp as a knife.

Fingers that blur with deft speed.

But that’s all there’s to ya;

A vibrant young body.

A brainless intent t’ward pride.

The flash of your “best” is gone in a moment.

And now on t’ward hell you will ride.

But wasn’t that your destination,

Before all this began?

Your life’s no more than vomit;

Just reeking up the land!

A baby’s dead,

You cursed spry man!

There!  Rest your frame tonight.

You have murdered your peer.

And you thought you were a man.

Awareness


They call me a man, and among them, yes I am.

But that is not the sum of my name.

For there are those who were, long before I was,

and they have been faithful to remain.

God is first and God is last,

all else falls to and fro.

Among the throng I do belong;

But a child, and from below.

——–

Ancient ages past have seen

The Faithful do His will.

Though in your sight maturity’s mine,

A child I was, and still.

The pride of man: “I’ve grown enough;

I’ve conquered all I have.

Respect me now for I’ve become.

Yes, I’ve become a man!”

——

And He said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”