Posts Categorized: poetry

Model of Forgiveness

How do I turn the other cheek?

Do I glare down my enemy with
kindness? Slap them over the head with
generosity? Silence them with my devoutness?
Humiliate them with my humility?

The goal of forgiveness can’t be to glorify self.
“Look at me. I’m better than them.”

I know no other way to forgive than to
take up my cross and follow Jesus.
To  train taut muscles ready
for revenge to submit to God’s will.

When I recognize that He sweated and bled
for both my enemy and I,
forgiveness becomes a gritty
part of who I am—a scream of 0bedience—not a selfish sacrifice
to force the other person to change.

Forgiveness has no return receipt.

The Sweet Fragrance of Worship

Mmm, what is that sweet fragrance?

I am learning to crawl onto
the altar of trust,
daily,
and die to self.
Oh God, refine me.
In the flames of suffering,
nothing else matters but You.
Burn off all that hinders
until thoughts and actions renew.
And I remain
whole and pleasing to You.

Mmm, what is that sweet fragrance?

Worship.

Made in Your Image

 

Twisted by confusion and sin—
My body lay, crumbled, wearing rust
among the discarded and dispised things
of this world.
Worth. Purpose. What were those?
I was no longer useful.

Until you gathered my broken pieces
and welded my soul
into a reflection of your identity.
You gave me my wings of faith.
Now I soar with love, joy, and hope.

 

Unfair Fight

I shouldn’t be standing.
You’ve twisted and broken my body so many times
The count should be over.
How many knockout punches can I sustain?

As many as He allows.

You should have known you’d lose.
My manager bought the match with His life.
He already wears the crown,
King of kings and Lord of lords and I
get to share in His glory.

Furnace of Hope (Choka Haiku)

Belief’s amber warmth
chilled black by fear. I wonder—
Do I exist here?

Desolate nightmare
Purple bruises on repeat—
You rescued my heart.

Tender shoots of trust
sprout knowing Your faithfulness—
Nightmare crushed crimson.

Unquenchable Hope
stands beside. I emerge gold—
Revealed by evil.

Furnace of obedience
Penned before Satan’s ink dried.

The Father’s Heart

Start here. In
the shivering nakedness
of not knowing but
being known. A rebirth.
Where your heartbeat
nestles under the Father’s. Listen.
His voice secures
your every anxious thought when
He calls you by name. Beloved.
Finally, you can rest in His
sovereignty.

A Hidden Spring of Joy in my Sorrow

When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the LORD will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them.

I will open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst of the valleys: I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.

Isaiah 41:17-18, KJV

What is this hidden spring that bubbles up
from the sorrow-baked cracks of my despair
and satisfies my soul with joy where
there should be only sorrow?

 

Turning the Page on Suicide

Tomorrow is July 1st and I should be dreading it, but I’m not.

Jonathan will be gone eight years, and for the first time I feel joy leading up to that terrible date. It is literally bubbling it up and causing me to laugh outloud today.

Not in spite of my loss, not ignoring the ache of loss, but because Jesus’ presence, his plan, and his purpose far outway anything I have or will ever experience in the future. He is shaping my grief.

How do I know this?

I have been reading through the Bible this year which includes readings from both the Old Testament and New as well as a Psalm. The thread of God’s trustworthiness is there. His sovereignty over every experience, including the suicide of my son, is imprinted in every description of loss,, rebellion, redemption.  Stories such as the overwhelming sorrow of Job, the prophets, David, Jesus and his disciples.  Scripture was like a golden thread of hope that once pulled I could see in vivid detail, God was not asleep at the wheel when Jonathan died or any other moment in my life.

So tonight I cry out to a God who hears. I pray for you my dearest readers and friends. Don’t lose hope! I mourn with you as many of you walk through the deepest layers of grief and suffering. I lean into the Holy Spirit’s leading. Nothing is impossble for my God. Including springs of joy in the desert wasteland of a child I loved deeply dying by suicide. I don’t dread tomorrow because Jesus, I know you are there.

 

Lord, so many of us are dying of thirst from walking through deserts of hopeless circumstances. Help us to put our faith in your living water that never runs dry. Amen

Even in Deserts I Grow

I  was planted in the parched desert of suffering.
Others scoffed at The Gardener who sows
in such unforgiving ground.
“Nothing could ever grow in that graveyard.”
They think they know better how to be fruitful.
Scattering seeds in shallow
soil of rich pleasure and ignore the weeds
that will one day choke them out.
But joy grows in this barren land
chosen for me.
I can’t depend upon myself to sustain.
I look to Him for rain.
Lean into His whispering wind for understanding.
Open my heart to the sunshine of His love,
Hope in the fruit I cannot yet see.
Faith and trust grow here.
I know that I know, The Gardener loves reaping a harvest.
Even in deserts
There are reminders that He is near.

Retreat

You Hollow Out Retreat

You hollowed out a cleft where I can hide
when the battle without and within dismantle me.
Provision appears, angels minister, and I
hear the strengthening rumbles of your whisper.

I am not alone.

Living Motherhood Forward Poem

If I reach back to touch the dogeared image of who you were,
I forget to take pictures of who you are now with God.
I acknowledge I want you here today. Concrete.
Real. Healthy. Vibrant.
You are all those things with Him.
He is my promise, beyond the years of loss, that nothing
Is wasted.
Heartache isn’t the end of my story.

So, I keep my eyes fixed on the horizon. Anticipate
God’s goodness in my pain.
And God shapes the sunrise of hope—without you.
I pause.

Breathe.

Remember you beyond the grave.
Joy still comes. Joy comes!

I snap a fresh picture of you by living motherhood forward.
Make new memories, not despite missing who you were,
but because I live, remembering you
With Jesus.

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Suicide Hotline

National Suicide Hotline

If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or go to the website at  SuicidePreventionLifeline.org.