Category Archives: My Favorites

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.

If my people

I once quoted, “If my people, called by my name…”if my people

For a nation to turn around.

I now question if I should say the same,

If such reasoning is biblically sound.

No doubt there is a need to repent.

Humility is needed in every generation.

But turning from faithfulness is meant

For another people, another nation.

I wish I could be certain today

That the promise would work for our people,

That the future of our nation’s way

Would rest in those gathered under the steeple.

Our promises now are for individual’s lives.

And not a government or a nation.

It’s now about how our spirit strives

Within our called and assigned station.

So humility, prayer, God-passion and repentance

Is still a must, a call, a priority,

It will help our little world to a distance,

But will not change our greater society.

God has not promised to save our land,

Our nation was not a promise of anyone’s possession.

But our hearts have a need which stands.

A need to learn repentance’s lesson.

What is God’s Love?

ImageDoes God’s heart pitter-patter

When He thinks of me?

Does He blush at my every word?

Or has He chosen to love despite iniquity

With no responding love every heard?

Does His love overcome my hate,

Pull me in when I pull away,

Revealing my self-hating state?

Was His choice based on my worthiness,

The value of my contribution?

Or is it based on His faithfulness

Despite my tendency for revolution?

Is God’s love for me seen in action,

A completed transaction when He paid the price,

Without my invitation, or expectation,

Or request for His sacrifice?

“God demonstrated His love for me,”[1]

That I can see it is very clear.

“While I was yet a sinner,”[2]

From a distance very afar, certainly not near.

“By His death in innocence, in my place,”[3]

Not for my sins alone, “but for the human race.”[4]

Thus love is decided, decided, committed;

Those three, a loving trinity.

But is my love, for Him, for others,

Decided, determined and shown?

Or does it claim its rights,

As selfish as I am prone?

What is God’s love?

How is it seen in me?

Does it make a difference

In loving others as much as I love me?

[1] Romans 5:8.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] 1 John 2:2.

Thank You for My Suffering

Thank you for my sufferingImage

That I may grow like you.

For through my suffering I seek

Your comfort to get me through.

Thank you for your strength and grace

That keeps me from day to day.

Thank you for your love so pure

Through gifts along the way.

If not for my suffering

I would be easy to deceive,

Fooled that I was worthy

Of the strength that I receive.

If not for my suffering,

I would guess that I was strong.

And when I fell in weakness,

I would find that I was wrong.

If not for my suffering

I’m afraid that I would stray

From the only good that I know,

Your presence day to day.

If not for my suffering,

I would live for the earthy gain,

Forgetting I’m bound for heav’n,

A far more glorious plain.

Thank you for my suffering.

In it with you I share

The glories of eternity;

Your presence, Oh, so fair.

The Line


A poem about the point at which I stop representing God and represent my own interest.

The line, I would deny, or try, the reason why?

I could cry to know the presence of the line.

A line is a decision, or a point at which one decides.

But this one, seen only by God, is painful to define.

In Peru a line represented poverty or prosperity.

In San Antonio, Travis offered bravery or retreat.

But as Jesus bowed beside the prostitute,

What did His line of sand relate or repeat?

Men of renown, noble, reputed, now shamefully

Slink away in the light of day at what the granules say.

Brave hearts melt as guilt will pelt their hearts.

Cold callused characters, revealed in light of holiness

Not to return to burn a sinner, each one departs.

His line in the sand was drawn to stand for mercy.

It condemned only the condemning and religious pride.

The room was vacated; the woman was elated to see

No accusers remained. Only the Savior was by her side.

But not so with me. Not with my line. I must know

That this line will show, not my freedom from shame

But at which point, only as God sees, do I begin

To represent me and not represent His name.

What trial causes my mind to turn from ambassador

To defendant; from representative to protecting what is mine?

What temptation lures me from loving Him most,

Sending my heart in the foray of free falling decline?

What possession do I seek when my values vulgarize,

Worthless and void compared to His virtue and prize.

What judgment do I make, to take pride in my mind,

Congratulating my wisdom of earthly methods to rationalize.

What trial, which test, which anger, which lust, what offense

Causes me to lay down His assignment and commission

To take up my cause, to pause in His path, to turn

To my interest, my estate, my desired addition.

When God looks at me, He sees my line as ever-present.

Perpetually before His view, with His desire to move

The line, to more deeply define my commitment, my passion,

So He sends my challenges, offenses and trials to reveal

My line, my passion to restore, my commitment to prove.

I fail when I cease from represent Him, resorting to my own interests,

When I seek the blessing instead of the testing of dedication.

Do I battle for me, to be free of His hand and forget

I am called to represent His Church, His Kingdom, His salvation?

Where is my line? He will show me through wars,

And while I struggle, battle, in the strive to survive, the hope to revive,

I will see my line and its location. That’s my line. Where’s yours?

God Has A Little Acre


A poem about how God works on me despite my failed efforts to improve.

God has a little acre

he planted all his own.

My life is His little acre,

where precious seeds are sown.

He removed stones and stick and rubbish

And made it a place where love has grown.

And All is well when he works it,

You see, it is his own.

When God is working in my life

His wonders to full fill.

Plants and pulls and labors,

The stubborn earth he’ll till.

He makes all thing ready for life and growth and joy.

Using all the tool at his pleasure

Some we would never chose to employ.

But when he leaves the garden

For me to tend while he’s gone

It’s seems my life has trouble,

And it doesn’t take very long.

The fences crumble, the weeds thrive.

The vines get limp and brittle.

It seems I’m not much a gardner

When in His garden I fiddle.

So I yeild to Him the vineyard

To do His mighty will.

I confess I made quite a mess

When I try to do His will. q

But soon under His careful hand

The garden grows again.

For to let Him be the gardener in me

Was always His perfect plan.

It’s Amazing God Would Even Bless


A whimsical verse about going to Church for the wrong reason.

Sunday morning, Satan was working.

It’s amazing God would even bless.

Sister Agness and Sister Gertrude

Were wearing the exact same dress.

There wasn’t more than hateful glares.

Last time, they had to be pulled apart.

They regretfully have the exact same taste

For special deals at Wal-Mart.

Trouble was about to blow.

When you walked in, you just knew

When you saw that Brother Walter

Had sat again in Grandpa’s pew.

All the songs were way to slow,

Except for the ones too fast.

One of the songs was only twenty years old

Instead of the good old ones from the past.

For Brother Harold, the temperature was too hot,

But for Miss Patsy, it was way too cold.

Most of the people would not greet you,

Except for those that are way too bold.

It’s amazing that God would even bless.

The preacher preached way too long.

And do we have to sing all five verses

Of the invitation song?

But Mattie Sue and Bobby

Must have read the Bible straight,

Because they came to get their lives right,

And the sermon wasn’t all that great.

And then came Billy Butler,

And for one time, he had behaved,

And on the third verse of “Amazing Grace”

Walked up the isle to get saved.

Next thing you know the alter

Was full of people to pray,

And when the service ended

Most of them wanted to stay.

People were crying and weeping.

Their eyes were flowing with tears.

And I saw some people hugging

That hadn’t spoken in years.

It was amazing that God would even bless.

That he did, you can’t debate.

The show I saw was worth far more

Than the dollar I put in the plate.

Halloween: When You Love a Child

ImageA little monster rang my door bell.

“Can I have some candy please?”

Male or female I could not tell,

Not much higher than my knees.

Reaching into my candy bowl,

I grab some candy for the child.

Four or five pieces, I don’t know.

The little one giggled, free and wild.

I dropped them into a pumpkin pail.

A “thank you” broke the quiet night.

“You’re welcome,” I said, and without fail

Added “Jesus loves you” to the little fright.

“Here is a tract you can have someone read.”

“Oh, thank you again,” came the child’s voice.

“Maybe mom or dad will do the deed,

And read you the story,” I hoped for that choice.

Later that night I completed my treating.

My doorbell rang after much patience was tried.

A young mother with tears I found myself greeting,

A little monster standing by her side.

Holding the tract I had given the child.

She looked to me with hope in her eyes.

I asked, “Will you come on in and visit a while.”

The two stepped right in, to my surprise.

Later that night, I saw the mother pray

For Jesus to love her, cleanse her heart.

God took all her sins and washed them away.

He loved her and gave her a fresh new start.

When all in this life seems ruin and lost.

Everything in the world is dirty, defiled.

A Word from the Father is worth the cost.

And a family can be reached if we love a child.


ImageMy time at the plate with bat in my hand,

I knocked the dust off my cleats, prepared to make a stand.

I dug deep with my back foot, rested lightly on my front,

And considered if I should swing away, or lay down a perfect bunt.

I glared in at the pitcher, swung the bat in practice style.

I felt a lump in my throat. The pitcher looked so vile.

I felt a sudden tremble. Satan rubbed the ball,

And smile to show his slimy teeth. I was drained of all my gall.

I glanced to the coach’s box. My Savior gave me a nod.

“You can do this trouper, just trust the power of God.”

How could I explain to Jesus that I have lost my nerve.

As if He knew, he shouted, “He only throws a curve.”

The first pitch looked in my wheelhouse. I gave a might swing,

To see the ball drop low and out. I didn’t hit a thing.

The second pitch looked well outside, but bent across the zone.

I was down to one last swing, I felt so all alone.

“He just throws curves,” I heard a shout. “It’s not where it appears.”

“Don’t swing with just your insight, nor swing with all your fears.”

“If the ball bends in”, I reasoned, “it won’t be where it looks.”

“If Satan throws only deception, I’ll swings after it hooks.”

Satan kicked up high in windup, and feigned a powerful throw.

”Another lie”, I told myself. “This pitch is coming in slow.”

The pitch was sailing for my head. I thought to fall away.

Instead I stood and watch the sphere, approaching with delay,

Change its course to towards the zone. I dipped to start my swing.

With power I had never known, I hit the curving thing.

The ball sailed far and deep that day, further than I deserved.

And I learn my lesson for sure. Satan only throws a curve.

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