The Body (of Christ)

Suppose there was a person who quickly fell and died.
Maybe part of who he was said “innocent!” but lied.

So..

What if his hands said to his feet,
“We’re jealous of your toes,”
And in so doing forgot that
They’re holding a fire hose.

What if his toes said to his eyes,
“We’re jealous of your sight,”
And in so doing forgot that
They’re running in a fight.

What if his eyes said to his heart,
“We’re jealous of your beat,”
And in so doing forgot that
They’re spotting dangerous heat.

What if his heart said to his tongue,
“I’m jealous of your voice,”
And in so doing forgot that
It’s sustaining every choice.

What if his tongue said to his brain,
“I’m jealous of your head,”
And in so doing forgot that
It’s a spokesman aforesaid.

Maybe such is how he died:
His body parts were proud.
We’ll never know, but maybe so,
Could it be said too loud?

This past week, God has been teaching me how to appreciate the body of Christ. I have previously struggled with being jealous of others’ walk with God, envying different traits of theirs and how God has built them when that is actually pride. He has been teaching me to appreciate others’ walk with God and look at their spiritual lives for encouragement. We may be running a race, but this isn’t a competition with each other. We are a team, a unified body. We are to look to Jesus Christ, the author, and finisher of our faith, and push each other to Him, regardless of where we are or they are in the race.

It is a wonderful thing when the body of Christ is simply.. the body of Christ.

Faith Is Always Made Sight

My Savior, Jesus, called my name and wooed me out to sea.
I heard Him past the farthest depths and heard His love for Me.
I raised the mast and set the sail. I left to ne’er return.
I sought for Jesus with the cost that land, I must spurn.

The clouds grew dark and winds blew hard. I wept through endless rain.
I sought for Jesus more and more, yet still braved ceaseless pain.
“Jesus! Please! I know You’re there! I just can’t see Your face!
When will Your grand promises be proven in this place?!”

The thunder rolled when suddenly, I heard His gentle voice.
“Peace, be still,” calmed the seas and caused me to rejoice!
The sun broke through the stormy clouds as everything fell low.
The light blue sky swept above revealing Him below!

He ran across the still, smooth sea and jumped into my ship!
He grasped my hand and shook it firm with heaven’s fearless grip.
He laughed then cried along with me. He took away my fears!
He hugged me hard then looked at me to wipe away my tears.

“Blessed are you who trusted Me when everything looked grim,
Who sailed through torrents strong and prayed when everything grew dim.
You see, My friend, I don’t forget the tears of My dear saints.
I always come to rescue them before the strongest faints.”

The past month of my life is summarized in this poem.
Two days ago, the winds finally ceased, and I saw Jesus.
I always knew He was there; I just couldn’t see Him.
Thus being said, as a good friend once told me:

“Faith is always made sight!”

Prayer That Stays

A man unknown steps through a door and falls to the ground.
He struggles up to his knees, and chokes out painful sound.
His eyes are shut and yet they’re not, he sees his Father’s throne.
His heart begins to beat with God’s, the rhythm’s not alone.

All heaven stands on toes in wait to hear his humble prayer:
The prayer that never ceases till the altar’s lit a’flare.
He prays and prays with moans and tears; he weeps in silence still.
And yet in heaven’s realms there is a charge of anthem thrill.

He surpassed “fun” and earthly games, he left his friends “good time”,
And yet in heaven’s saintly realms, he is one of a kind.
For elsewhere in the world there’s a sound of sporting cheer,
And yet the real hurrah in life is found nowhere but here.

For though all men cheer on the ball and athlete big and strong,
The real applause is found on knees, praying hard and long.
No one cares about the man, who leaves to take up prayer,
And yet our Lord God above listens to his dare.

He stays and stays as the time flies by; the angels’ roar grows loud.
Just as when Elijah looked and said, “I see a cloud!”
The Father’s will had found a flow, a channel through a heart:
A heart that knew the Father’s will needed a prayer’s start.

And though this unknown man die such, another grave below,
It was by Him all heaven’s joy came down like winter snow.
So when you think of lengthy prayer, don’t think of monks who snore.
Think of heaven’s greatest knights who fight their Savior’s war.

The Angels’ Grief

The Son of God falls to His knees. His arms can’t bear the weight!
He looks up through His flowing blood to see His gruesome fate.
He tries to stand but falls again. His chest can’t bear the strain.
Yet still He presses on to where He will bear all hell’s pain.

But just beyond the veil of man, we mourn above the hill.
The Father aches along with us, yet cries, “This is My will!”
We know the plan, we know the hope, we know He’ll resurrect —
The horror though still breaks our hearts, for we dare not protect.

The King of kings lays down His limbs to feel the nails drive through.
His crown digs deep into His skull in royalty askew.
He’s raised up high on Calvary with two thieves at His side
Who bleed in shame along with Him, the Christ so falsely tried.

But how the thought runs through our minds! “We’re just a prayer away!”
“We’d rescue You at bid and call, but still You choose to stay.”
The Father too holds fast His ground as oceans become tears,
Until His grief turns into rage and darkness halts man’s cheers.

Three hours first, but now’s the worst. Sin’s punishment is come.
Today hell claims its finest prize, the Lord of lords undone.
With pure for vile and love for hate—His torture none can know.
The Son of Man becomes all sin and takes hell’s every blow.

But just beyond the veil of black, we count the seconds gone.
The Father pours His wrath on sin until He is withdrawn.
“My God! My God!” cuts through our ears as we all hold our breath.
“It is finished!” ends the work as Christ embraces death.

The bitter ground then claims His corpse, a stone to hold HIs head.
How could the One who blessed with life now be one with the dead?
We bide our time, and three days pass. The stone rolls from the grave
As Jesus Christ strolls from His tomb triumphant, strong, and brave!

Now how we sing and bow in awe as heaven’s gates life up
To let the King of glory in who drank the Father’s cup.
“My Son, it’s done! The war is won! You bore the weight of hell!
“Forevermore, let it be known, that You have finished well!”