not that I already haven’t
but one thing I know is true
to forget what lies behind
and to look … no, no, no
to [ s – t – r – a – i – n ]
towards what lies before me
for you i count, for you i
number my days, for you i wait
for you to say, i must not forget
this one thing; a day is like
a thousand years, and a thousand
years is like a day, – so, say
I dedicate this rhyming poem to my mom because she thinks there’s no other kind; and Psalm 13.
She longs for rhymes in a song,
and scrubbing dishes in soapy warm water.
For mom it works like a balm
for confused thoughts that go all wrong.
Drained by a loitering squatter,
she longs for rhymes in a song.
More and more she’s less and less strong
so she calls on me, her only daughter.
For mom it works (like a balm).
I try calming her with a psalm
about clay awaiting the potter.
She longs for rhymes in a song.
I fear it will be a mean, long
bleed of memory into a blotter
for mom. “Where? Where is the balm?”
The comfort, “You’ll always be mom,”
dies a slow death to mental slaughter.
She longs for rhymes in a song;
(for mom) it works like a balm.
BITTER (SWEET) WATERS OF MARAH
Has God ever led you to taste your own bitterness? Water is the spiritual symbol of life, so let me re-phrase the question. Have you ever choked on your life circumstances? Okay, now I hear some sputtering and spitting. I’ve begun a Tabernacle study with my Tuesday morning ladies, so I’ve been hanging with Moses for a while now and would like to share some new insights I’ve been swallowing. Stop #4 for the wandering Israelites, having gone three days through the desert of Shur without any water, was a place called Marah. Few of us have ever experienced the kind of thirst the Israelites suffered, but imagine them diving in only to find the water undrinkable because of its bitterness. The remedy for the bitterness was the same as it is for us. God made the water sweet by telling Moses to throw into it a specified piece of wood. The spot was renamed Elim, a place of abundance. What was so amazing about tossing a stick in? That stick represented Jesus, as he would die on a piece of wood which was a tree called Calvary so that we may enjoy the refreshment of the Living Water. Jesus is the greatest remedy God gave us, for our greatest need is to be washed. Marah was a disappointing stop for the masses, but necessary to internalize the lesson that life is a mixture of sweetness and bitterness. If it were only sweet, we would have no thirst for Jesus! The other side of Marah is sweet.
They will neither hunger nor thirst, nor will the desert heat or the sun beat upon them. He who has compassion on them will guide them and lead them beside springs of water.- Isaiah 49:10
(Exodus 3:2) I AM a prickly bush. I’m not even a garden variety grade. No. I am one among the multitude of parched skeletal desert tumbleweeds that only wishes I were a tree with branches. I am not a mighty oak, strong and sturdy, or a majestic pine tree tall and stately. I am subject to lightning bolts igniting me, and I count my days until my number is up. I am puny and unprotected, except for these thorns which are aborted branches; they’ve done me no good. I AM a thorny bush.
I am on fire, but am not consumed. Moses turns aside to investigate why I am not being burnt. Suddenly, I’m not like the run-of-the-mill bushes Moses suspects nomads used last night for a campfire or the remains of a lightning storm. Moses usually walks right by me, but today my brightness draws him near. I am not on fire. The fire is within me. When God sees Moses looking intently, God calls to him through me and says, “Moses, Moses. Here am I.”
I am a bush. I am not the I AM, but he is within me.
You are a bush. Is God speaking through you?
Feeling lost in humanity; on the outskirts of community? We all seek our spiritual selves. Ephesians 2:10 is one of my favorite verses, as a writer, because of one key word translated in Greek.
“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath ordained that we should walk in them.”
The Greek translation for workmanship is poiema– from which we get our word “poem.” Thus, we are God’s poetry! The result of salvation is that we are His workmanship—the handiwork of God, not of ourselves. A born-again believer is a masterpiece of God, and that gives me reason to write.
What are the good works He has called you unto?
This weekend, I attended the third out of four summer weddings I have had the privilege of being invited to as a guest:) It’s always a celebration of love, hope and family. The first verse in Psalms 45 prefaces a beautiful love song of a king’s passionate love for a queen (or Christ’s love for us).
“My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer.”
There is dignity in this subject–Love which is Christ. Those that speak of it speak of a good matter and there is none more fruitful, profitable, noble, copious, or well-becoming us. May you be inspired to pick up your pen and write of subjects so worthy.