Roses

Show me the roses that grow among the thorns,
Painting the beauty that comes in many forms,
Showing me the good in life that overcomes the pricks,
Revealing the hope throughout the rugged sticks.

Show me the roses that grow through any storm,
Cherishing the drench, whether freezing or warm,
Showing me the joy in life that overcomes the pain,
Teaching me to dance beneath torrential rain.

The thorns feel most severe when reaching for a rose,
Cutting deep, showing flaws, and leaving us to foes.
But as we grasp, we cry out, and find that by our call
We find Jesus, the finest rose of all.

All is Yours, All is Well

God, my dreams are wholly Yours.
My future is not mine.
My hopes and fears with all my tears
Are Yours as well, not mine.

God, my laugh is wholly Yours.
My smile is not my own.
My teeth and tongue, while I’m still young
Are Yours and not my own.

God, my past is wholly Yours:
My jumps and falls and more.
My highs and lows with the hard blows
Are Yours then much more.

God, it’s true this world is Yours.
My world is Yours as well.
My past, my now, my fate, and brow
Are Yours, so all is well.

Thanksgiving Perspective

My submission for PCC’s Annual Thanksgiving Praise Service:

(It was very humbling to have it selected and read for the Church body)

Thankful for all the trials,
Heartaches, pain, and woe,
And the grace of God above
Never running low,
Keeping me on my knees,
Showing me His love,
Giving me what I need
In trials from above,
Violently pursuing me,
Insisting that I see
Nails can be the greatest gift,
Granting Christ’s likeness to me.

Your Finest Hour

Your finest hour could be defined as that moment in life which defines you at your prime: a moment unprecedented by anything you’ve ever done before. And many of us are prone to the mindset that such a moment is sometime in our future, yet to happen.

But…

What if your finest hour is that least seen by all?
When no one sees God lift you up from the simplest fall.

What if your finest hour is that which is in prayer?
Where God responds to every cry and still, unspoken care.

What if your finest hour is when you take God’s Word
And say “I will!” before you think of that verse which you heard?

What if your finest hour is always in the now?
Hinging on the cross of Christ, beneath which broken bow.

What if your finest hour was at that moment won?
Based on Christ’s final cry, shouting, “It is done!”

The fact is that it is the truth. This is your finest hour!
Hinging not on your mere will, but in God’s mighty power!

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!”