The king’s heart is in the hand of the Lord and so is mine. It turns like rivers upon a word of His design. Though channeled dam-ward from the start, I will not fear. He can turn the trickle of my heart anywhere— but only if He wants. .
Mr. Robin— the gentleman in my yard— shirt of rust, tux of grey— standing still— thoughtful, grave— bowing politely before the feast.
You were just a boy when you came to us— a gentle soul— an artist— with a big smile. We gave you food and water and let you feast your eyes on blue skies, stone mountains, flowered meadows. We led you to the gates of life, unlocked them, pushed them back on creaking hinges, just … Continue reading Choosing Death
I think we can all agree that 2020 hasn’t turned out to be the year we thought it would be. Who would have dreamed at the beginning of the year that so much would change? Even though I had heard of Covid-19 back in January, I never imagined how much it would affect our country. … Continue reading Coronavirus, Uncertainty, and Hope
When I pray, blindfold me— shut the windows, cover my ears, and numb me— because awareness of burdens still unchanged unnerves me— I don’t have the heart to pray if prayer means nothing. But You are invisible. And, more often than not, Your works are invisible too. So black out my perceptions that I may … Continue reading Blindfold Me
We come to Him in terms of eloquence. Pledged in poetry to build cathedrals out of words for housing adoration. And if we can, we should— words have their place in love. Jesus loved in words— but sealed that love with silence, nails, and blood. We can transliterate ourselves, rising on the wings of words, … Continue reading True Love
Most people come in prose— masterpieces that the world could not do without. But when You wrote me, you wrote poetry— imaginative, concise, and rhyming You. And when I look around, I see glory where others see cliche— bits of poetry sprouting in the grass, jumping trees with squirrels, resting moon-like in the clouds. I … Continue reading My Poet
I spread the map before the King— the best route circled on the page— a line that joined points A and B. But He said, “Put the map away.” Aghast, I wondered—didn’t He know? Travel by heart is dangerous art for hearts will often tell you lies. “Yes, my child, and so will eyes.” Then … Continue reading No Map Needed
I like drawing hearts— crude but satisfying reflections of the bubbling swirl of warmth and determined goodwill inside us when we love. But if I could draw hearts forever, sketching galaxy to galaxy across the universe, I could not capture, even in part, the breadth of Jesus’ love. ❤️ .
The clench of pain, the darkness pressing; the future robbed, all longing wasted; the music quenched, the pleasure hollow; the loves in vain, the friendships fading; all losses sealed, the grief unbroken; all hope unknown, all roads unsteady; a failing breath, and death forever— if Jesus had not risen. .
