Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Reason of the Wind


Said the weeds to the wind, “Must you be so strong?

Must you blow and blow and show your power, right or wrong?”

Said the grasses to the wind, “Must you lay us down

By pressing us, bending us and sending us to the ground?”

Said the trees to the wind, “Thank you for the breeze!

We stand so stiff, rigid, still until you blow us trees.

It’s nice to stretch and dance and prance, for us you blow.

If not for your breeze, the trees would only stillness know.”

Said the wind to the rest, “I blow at His command.

It’s not to harm you or bless you, but to obey our Master’s hand.”

My Life Is Not My Own

My life is not my own. Lord, I give it anew to you.Image

My tendency is to protect me, the natural thing to do.

I lay my life on the altar, a living sacrifice.

To hold for my own use is never worth the price.

My life is not my own. I forfeit it again

To place in within your hands, to follow in your plan.

I’m tired of the sorrow and defeat my choices bring.

Take my life and make it again a valuable thing.

My life is not my own. As your Son gave His life for me

I release my life, my loving Father, unto thee.

It’s not much I can give you, not worth much at all.

But Lord, it’s your from now till death makes his call.

Kinsler’s Awkward Slide

The following is about an incident in the Texas Ranger’s Game on May 16 involving an awkward moment for a very good player, Ian Kinsler.

I was rewarded for a good swing of the plate

And was leading off first to try to advance.

When Elvis swatted the ball, I couldn’t wait

To round second and on to third, I had a chance.

The ball squirted to center, the fielder was chasing.

I glance at the ball, and extended my stride.

To the white bag, I was rapidly advancing.

And graceful entered a head-first slide.

I didn’t understand that the fielder had stumbled

I didn’t expect that my sliding would hurt.

I thought the faux pas was the fielder had fumbled,

But soon realized my chest stuck in the dirt.

My slide was so clumsy, my feet in the air,

My body was arching like a string-tightened bow.

Somehow I slid on, I was starting to care

That my body was contorting, incredibly so.

I bounced more than slid as the soles of my shoes

Approached my shoulders, then my upper back.

My mind was thinking of the ESPN Sports News

Showing my moment in their latest blooper pack.

If you ever slid head first and stuck in the dirt,

You know you feel helpless, but then again,

Quite thankful that you are not seriously hurt,

And the wounded pride can be deflected with a grin.

If my next hill’s my last (poem)

Is that next hill my last as I travel along?Image

Is the next simple chorus the last of my song?

Is my journey near ended, my travels near past?

Will I cross under the gates of heaven at last?

Do I stride for the long run or dash up the hill?

Do I lean for the finish with all of my will?

Should I push for the crest, regardless what lies

On past the summit, despite my surprise?

If I expend all my power and find more ahead

Where comes my strength to go where I’m led?

The answer remains whether the end is nigh

Or distant. Regardless, to live or to die,

My strength comes from Jesus, on Him I depend

For strength for my destiny as for where I’ve been.

It the next hill is another of many to tread,

Or the next is my last, my final instead.

My strength is the same, my effort to run

Comes from my dear Father, through His dear Son.

Baseball Coach on the Pulpit Committee

When the Church picked the committee to find the new pastor,Image

They picked extroverted leaders so they would find one faster.

The banker, a real estate agent, the manager of the zoo,

A feminine activist, a lawyer, and a baseball coach too.

They start out their pastor search, but things were not so well.

Every preacher had a flaw, as far as the members could tell.

One candidate was too heavy. Another was way too tall.

Another had a squeaky voice. Another was a wee bit small.

One came from a family that locally had a bad name.

One preached too wildly, while another was way too tame.

Finally one met the criteria that all could agree.

They book a date to have him, so all could come and see.

He preached his blessed heart out, most all agreed.

This was the exact preacher they had to have indeed.

The banker and the agent, the manager of the zoo,

The feminist and the lawyer believed this one would do.

The baseball coach was not so sure. He said how it was wrong,

“He preached just great and all was well ‘til the invitation song.

He invited all who struggled and found life way too hard

To come up to the front pew and fill out a membership card.

He said they were now members, could drink of the communion cup.

The ball was down the middle, but this preacher popped it up.”

If I Understand

If I understand that faith is not by sight,Image

Faith is the evidence of your way.

If it is the substance, the validation of what’s right,

It demands belief in what you say,

Then I must ask for you to take from me

All proof, all evidence, all sight

That I am on the path that only leads to thee

And nothing but believing is what is right.

For such a request is strange indeed.

I’m not sure that I can stand

With no validation, nothing guaranteed,

But faith in your supplying hand.

Can I fully live with no comfort

To completely trust in you?

Can I remove all my support

And expect faith to get me through?

If I understand, you strength is only found

In the faith I have in your Word.

All other proofs will make me weak.

I trust in you, my Lord.

If I understand, this life is a test

For what I truly believe.

If you remove from me life’s best,

In eternal life I will receive.

Farewell April

This is the last day of National Poetry Writing Month. I decided to participate, attempting to post Imageone of my poems a day. I missed some days due to a busy schedule, but it has been a lot of fun. So much fun, I was reminded of how much I like writing poetry.

As you probably notice, my view of poetry is very limited. I prefer rhyme and rhythm. I prefer the theme and the pace to move the emotions without sacrificing rhyme. In other words, my poetry is very elementary.

I decided earlier to maintain this site as a secondary blog to my devotional blog (which has been neglected during my poetry phase). I will occasionally write a poem and post it here. I hope you enjoy my work.

Not My Last, Pastor Tim White, 2013

This is not my last rhyming verse.

This month has been a lot of fun.

Enjoy my work, some wordy, some terse,

And let me know your favorite one.

April was the month to write

Poetry that reveals the heart.

So I wrote early and wrote at night

And had a blast right from the start.

Tomorrow I will focus on thought,

Deeper, spiritual, of battles fought,

And losses and victories, none of naught,

And thoughts to me that God has brought.

So to April I say “Farewell”,

And thank the poets who allowed me space

To express my heart, my stories tell,

And how I lost or won a race.

My pen will ever try to rhyme,

For poetry is a part of me.

So come around, when you find the time,

And see if I wrote more poetry.

My Notes Were Gone

My notes were gone, and there I stoodImage

Before the congregation.

My face was red, a spinning head,

I had a situation.

My notes were gone, perhaps at home

Was hours of preparation.

What could I do, what could I say,

Was now my contemplation.

My notes were gone, my thoughts, my points,

My quotes and my citations,

My jokes, my scriptures, my outlined theme,

My clever illustrations.

My notes were gone, my face was red,

My pulse was a fast vibration,

Perhaps I should do double communion

Or take some strong sedation.

My notes were gone. Perhaps I should start

With some heart-felt free narration.

Or say a prayer, long and strong

And cut to the invitation.

My notes were gone, forgotten misplaced,

Oh the sad indignation!

Perhaps I should just trust in God

And wait for His affirmation.

My notes were gone, my memory failed,

My creativeness at complete cessation.

I shall survive. “Would the ushers come forth?

“Please prepare your contribution.”

 Evolution, I’m not that dense.


Evolution, I’m not that dense.

Evolution is a leap that I refuse to take;

To explain the origin, I leap I will not make.

To venture guess that creatures took years to develop,

How they did survive the developing time gives my mind a wallop.

How did the emperor moth, said to survive because a spot on his wings

Survive the first million years when lizard hunted the things?

Sure the dot today confuses the lizard so he misses his mark.

But before the development without the defense; that isn’t so smart.

There is a flying snake, which flattens and jumps off a height,

Something that would give a reasonable snake a fright.

His coil makes a foil that allows sailing in the wind.

How many snakes died in attempt to guess, or pretend,

To fly, but failed and crashed with a bang?

Evolution does not allow for the survival of the leaping thang.

I may be ignorant, but I ain’t stupid, not without practical sense.

To believe in evolutions and evaluate the concept, you have to be a might dense.

But, Why, Lord?

I asked the Lord about my fearsImage

He said, “Do not fear but trust in me.

Whate’er you face, I am near.

I will protect you, you will see.”

I asked the Lord about other feelings.

Should I simple stoically cease to feel?

He said, “No, feelings are a part of you.

Feelings are good and feelings are real.

But feelings are not to be your guide.

Feel completely, but faith is the way.

Your feelings are a natural part of you

But living for me is trusting what I say.”

What about my offenses and pains?

I asked Him, “Must I always forgive?”

He said, “Forgiveness is the only way

I gave you life and called you to live.

I forgave you, and gave you a gift.

That prize is forgiveness to offer all.

I paid the price for your burdens to lift.

Forgiveness is the way you answer the call.”

I asked, “Why is it hard to be your child,

To feel and not react, to hurt and not strike?

Why forgiveness, even when I’m riled?

Why can’t I just respond as I like?”

He smile, and chuckled and shook His head,

And said, “I removed from you sin’s condition.

I gave your soul life, raising it from the dead,

And gave you a purpose, a life mission.

You duty is to represent my message.

To a dead and hurting world you must go.

Your life is to serve as a hopeful presage,

And if you don’t live it, how would they know?”

I thanked the Lord for the desire to be

All that He called me, all that He defines.

I thanked Him for the power to make that me

And to shape my character until it aligns.

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