Category Archives: Hope

The Sickness

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I can speak of this personally.  What the world calls madness has fallen upon me.  And much like the madman who’s drool becomes a beard,  I am oblivious to their concern.

“He is not like us.  He does not prize the things of wealth.  He does not show proper concern for sickness and trouble.  He does not protect his property.  He does not show regard for proper education.  He makes a mockery of what is important to us.  He thinks every man is a liar, he doesn’t honor the necessity of political compromise.  We would call him paranoid, but he does not display the fear associated with that bend of mind.  No, this is a sickness called obsessive religion.”

And they are right.  I am obsessed with the Holy and Righteous Son of the Living God.  Worse than that, I am not ashamed.  Didn’t they accuse my God of the same thing when he walked this Earth?  

It has been said I have lost my Humanity.  Yes I’m have.  Have you looked around and defined what humanity is?  And am I supposed to take that saying as an offense?

“If he were truly from God he would have a great following.”  How many is 12?  

“Passion for your house has consumed me,

and the insults of those who insult you have fallen on me.”

(And I am made greatly glad.)

The Fabric of War

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​A man sits pleasantly 

In his overstuffed chair.  

Happily he stares out the window,

At the peaceful world out there.
I see it too.

Like all the rest of you.

But I also see something more.

I see the fabric of War.
The tapestry of nature;

Love, Hope, Faith, sure.

But I see through to the other side,

Those things to which those three are blind.
Engaged against a cunning foe,

Who employs the joyful and much more.

He sits and lurks among the leaves,

Watching, waiting, peace to deceive.
Be at peace old man and be there till,

Your Sun goes down and your body lay still.

You’ve escaped the blood you’ve escaped the Valor,

But what will you say when your skin is clay pallor?
White hot seduction screams contentiously by;

Tracers cutting air, in a bloodthirsty line.

Till one of them strikes through my vulnerable thigh.

Then angry, YES, am I!
Who is to blame?

It’s not you, it’s not me.

It’s the fabric of War!

Why, old man,

Can’t you see?
The time of repose is not in this life.

This is the place of blood, death and strife.

I’d rather be wounded, approved and endure;

Living strong in “The Faith of HE who is Sure
But do rest and enjoy the picture you see,

Whether stillness of beauty, or the warring disease.

Do not let your soul be caught shaken my friends.

But fight, oh do fight, to the promised strong End!

The Legend Waits

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You’ve seen it in the movies, how someone is running away from a crumbling building.  For the sake of theatrics, they always manage to miss the last piece by inches.
Isn’t life like that?  What we build always seems to fall apart.  But by some fortunate circumstances, we are always inches ahead of the last falling peace.  The noise, the dust, the sparks that fly,  they are always behind us, or just brushing our shoulders.
But just as curiously, there is collateral damage.  Many are caught in the wake of catastrophe from our mistakes and mishaps.  And we, ourselves, are victims from the work of countless hordes of fools.  Death is the place where we emerge from the smoke and dust.
I wrote a poem called “Sorrow”.  The poem is the offspring of this realization.  With all sincerity, I desire that death should come.  Let it come and put an end to this catastrophic event called “My life”.  
I don’t desire death because I’m lazy.  I desire death because of Jesus.  (The very same reason I’m still living.)  I desire death that there may finally be peace in the place where all I could bring was horror.  I desire death that his work may find completion.
How precious then are these words he has led, inspired or incited me to write.  Though they cause upheaval, it is for the better of every soul.  And as I have written before, as long as I live here these words remain concealed.
They are concealed because of the pride of Man.  As long as he can attribute an errant human to these words, he will not find them nor seek them out.  But take away the man and the legacy sprouts wings.  “He was ten feet tall.  He was the epitome of muscle and brain.  His heart was forever in the right place.  He was a saint among us!”
How wrong they will be.  But how useful is their error.  May God be glorified in Jesus His, Holy and Righteous Son for the sake of what He has done in this fool.

Employment Opportunities

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​Think about the example of business.  From the one who gets fired out of necessity, to the one whom they groom to lead the company, willful dedication is what they’re looking for.  Why doesn’t the apply to heaven?
There are grumblers and vile Souls who think there’s nothing wrong with the way they are.  How such people expect blessings from God is beyond me.  But they sure cry out for a blessing when they need one.  And there are people who dedicate their entire life to the things of God.  There is no possible way that God will leave them without blessing.


Want to get fired from heaven?  Just let your actions speak for themselves.  (Nothing in nothing out.)  Do you want to secure friendship with Jesus?  Do the things He commands us to do.

I don’t know where this logical train of thought falls apart.  But I see a whole lot more people who want to get fired, than I do those who desire His friendship.  No, I didn’t make a mistake.  They want to get fired.  “Poor little pitiful me, I just can’t do it.”

P.S.  Hell doesn’t offer unemployment benefits.

Hard Times

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To take to the mountains is sure best of all.

For there the man learns.
There His Glory stands tall.

The valley is full of peacable ritual.
Repetitive practice seems glory to them.

But up on the mountain the harsh wind knows,
How to take a man’s life with relentless blows.

The valley is full with sounds of their begging,
“Forgive us our sins!  Though we keep on forgetting.”

But up on the mountain there’s no time for sin.
The eyes of the climber are transfixed on Him.

Where is the glory on this shaded Earth?
Is it down in the valley; midst those born of mirth?

If you want to be honor, start climbing my friend.
Join Him up there where “THE AIRS” are too thin.

Go to him.
Die,
To the self,
To the norm.
Let Him show you His Glory.
By His Spirit . . .
Be borne!

The harsh things of Earth
Are the nestings of birds.

Let their claws bare you up
As you drink from His Cup.

Or stay in the valley.
Find your way with the men
Who think is quite kindly
To be masters of bending
THE TRUTH.

Loyalty Supreme!

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For reasons only known in heaven, God began a creation.  He spun with Invisible thread, creating something from absolutely nothing.

A Blackness was born in The Kingdom of Light.  He speckled the Blackness with fiery balls.  Appearing from nothing were little places of special interest.  They were darkened little globes that we’re not like the fires at all.

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Imagine, if you can, the wonder of the angels as they did the bidding of their Father.  And their wonder kept expanding.  The work went on for a very long time. 

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Every item in the darkness was placed precisely where The Father said to put it.  Joy and wonderment filled all Heaven as the creation took shape before their very eyes.  It was an intricate dance of tiny objects, all floating in the blackness.  A precise ballet of love.  Every item spun precisely around another.

Then, amazement upon amazement, God spoke a word unheard before.  “Let us create Man in our image”.  Adam, he was called.  The meaning of the word is “First Blood”.

In his hands, The Holy Word of God began the work of The Father.  A handful of dust took shape.  An unspeakable perfect work of art lay on the ground.  “Let the Breath of Life enter.”  The man’s breath began.  His eyes opened.  And from a perspective only capable in this creature of dust, he saw his surroundings for the first time.

Love and joy filled the servants of God as they were Witnesses to this amazing Work.  Unquestioning, innocent obedience bore the fruit the Living God intended.  And now they would watch that same obedience flow through the blood of this creation.

Blood!  The first of its kind.  Never before was there a creature with such exquisite limitation.  How unspeakably beautiful was the work of The Father.  What great tender care was given to their new brother.

But press forward in time with me.  Witness the history of decay.  See the frustrated Beauty become ragged edged and hideously vile.  Read the history of man in the Bible and weep.

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Look at the horror which we have become.  Not only have we murdered the love of God, we joyfully toss him in the cesspool of unbelief.  And the people despise anyone who speaks His Holy Name.

Dare to tell me that God has no right to destroy his enemies of this filthy place! 

But this is not the end of the story, for amazement fills the servants of God still.  As by that same innocent obedience, they reach into the Blackness of sin and create a people of light. 

For now, the tiny lights glow in the Darkness.  But the day will surely come when the darkness will be swallowed up by the place from which it was created.  That which is abhorrent to man will rule with Christ for eternity. 

Something from nothing became blackness.  But something from Blackness will become dazzling, bright and brilliant Lights of Life.

Join in the building celebration; the Symphony of redemption is a beautiful song, being played by those who love Him.  And the Beautiful song is played against the backdrop of hisses, boos jeers, wailings, screams, and violent intent.  Make all the noise you want, you hideous creatures of hatred.  Your silence is moving toward you now.

I will love the God who made me!  I will adore the one who fashioned me from nothing!  Stand with me or not, what difference can it possibly make?

By His Grace.