Posts Tagged: karisa moore

Iron Out Despair

Iron Out Despair

Iron Out Despair

Wrinkled, unkempt, weary.
Sometimes, the sluggishness of despair,
refuses to stumble out of bed, prepare, or
repair you.

Do the things that made you, you, make you, You,
and will make you YOU again.
Despite the distorted reflection blinking
blankly back, you are still sculpted by a master artist.
Love. Be loved.
Live a plump life, hoping in what you do not yet see.

Once again, run barefoot with giggling wonder.
Know nothing can deplete joy of secure identity.

Splash cool water over wethered soul.
Comb out compassion, understanding, and faithfulness.
Iron out despair again and again,
until dis-repair gets the clue that
you have formed a habit of knowing
who and whose you are.

 

Resource:

Your Hope-Filled Perspective Podcast

A weekly podcast by Neuro-Psychologist Dr. Michelle Bengtson
I have read three of her books, listened to her podcast, and am a regular listener. Today, Dr. Bengtson suggested that those wanting to help people dealing with chronic illness to actively reach out because, often, a chronic sufferer will not ask for help. Example: “I’m headed to the grocery store. What can I pick up for you?”

Trying to make a change in your self-care? Read: Deflate the Bed and Give Me Life

Furnace of God's Presence

Furnace of God’s Presence

I am in the furnace of God’s presence
Where all I’ve learned from scripture
of your character becomes tangible, concrete,
and battle-tested by false belief.

Pushed into the furnace of God’s presence
Shame will not singe me.
The flames of intended destruction
laugh and lick around my delicate flesh with delight. Possessed.
The truth of Your love—a breath prayer.
I am nothing more than a suppressed slave to the world’s whim.
What power do I have against mighty nations?

But I’ve witnessed your sovereign will
You destroy idols and humble mankind.
I’m here in these flames of trust, you are here in your faithfulness.
On tiptoes of hope, I stretch out my arms to heaven
and submit to my Sovereign King, Redeemer, Rescuer, and Abba, come what may.
Head tilted towards heaven in defiant praise, I shout,
“Glory is Yours alone. There is no
other!”
.
I surrender to Your holy presence.
The only fire that consumes me.
I trust You in the even if…

 

(This poem was inspired by Daniel 3 when King Nebuchadnezzar threatened to throw three young Hebrew men into the furnace if they did not bow down to the image made in his likeness.)

 

“Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered and said to the king, ‘O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If this be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the golden image that you have set up’ ” (Daniel 3:16-18ESV).

For further reading: A God I Did Not Form

Marriage By Design

Tender tenacious kiss of one
who embraces hope when all seems lost.
One who traces hot tears of misunderstanding back
to their source and chooses forgiveness. One
who adventures to, discovers, and treasures your identity.
One who walks with you,
fingers entwined in quiet. One who
stands fast to protect when your soul
is battered by attack. One designed
by The Creator to love you.

Surrendered to His Glory

Surrounded by celebration
Under the illuminating lights of
R
essurection power, I
Recognize every blaring blemish
E
ndured on the cruel cross for me.
N
aked truth. Stripped of
Distraction. Believe in Him. Abide in Him.
E
nter into love so tangible death is
R
endered speechless. My ego submits
Eternally from self-indulgent glory to 
D
ance with deliberate delight before the one true king.

 

 

Rooted Tree, Grow in Christ

Tree.
What are you afraid of?
You are rooted.
Storms strengthen.
Drought triggers thirst for Him.
Sacrifice multiplies seeds of hope.
Nothing is wasted.
Not even death.
Grow with sun-kissed joy!

Not Cotton Candy Faith

This isn’t fairground faith,
Setting up temporary attractions to entertain,
This is a battleground.

This is a crawl-on-your-belly-through-muck kind of faith.
Faith like this knows the pain of barbs and mourns the consequences
of not hitting the mark.

Faith
in Jesus Christ doesn’t melt in your mouth
and jolt your system with a quick high. This faith knows
drought and famine and still
chooses to grit it out and hope.

Upside-Down Kingdom

My flesh stings with the stripes of suffering. Persecuted,
rejected, abandoned. What are these to me in light of eternity
with You? Your upside-down kingdom of servant king is a balm
to my heartache.

Though my flesh revolts at the dirt of humility and
my mind balks at unseen hope, I pick up my cross
and follow You night and day. Faith in You never
disappoints! Tears and songs
gurgle and bubble to the surface like a spring. You, Oh Lord,
are the source of circumstance-transforming joy.

And when my night comes, when all hope seems lost, and my flesh
bleeds to betray You. May I
cry out like Jesus. “It is finished,” and trust your resurrection power.

Peter’s Darkest Night

I possessed no doubt. Your identity
secure in my arrogance like a sword against
the throat of my enemies. You are the Messiah! But
your kingdom came, not with a roar
of victory, but a depressing death cry of, it is finished!

We shared
the same ministry dirt under the nails.
Fished for men. You called me friend.
This death you hinted at—not
on my watch!

You capsized my boat. Wrecked my
expectations. Did I really know you? Hope lies
rotting in a borrowed grave.
I replay your 
ministry over and over in my head. Where did I 
go wrong? I called you Messiah!  Did I really know you?

My battle cry, so passionate, so confident, last night, choked
out by the cock’s crow of my betrayal today. You looked at me.
You knew I would betray you, and still, you chose me. “Why?”
Bitterness mocked, “I’ll
follow you anywhere!” 

I was ready to establish your kingdom.
The battle was in front of me. My heart pounded.
My nearest enemy’s ear lay on the ground, with
first blood of freedom. Who’s with me?

“Put your sword away, Peter,” you commanded. Put my sword
away? Didn’t you put this sword in my hand? Even as I was ready to destroy
you were ready to restore.

“Your kingdom come!” 
What kingdom has ever come through a cross…

Countless times, you knelt and drew in the sand.
Treated the self-righteous as heathens. I felt elevated. 
A part of something gloriously divine. Oh good,
the master will put these accusers in their place. I witnessed
your miracles, but restore an enemy? My knowledge of your royalty was robbed
by your humility—by your sacrifice.

Why did you choose me?

 

Suicide & Prevention Hotline

National Suicide Hotline

If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 988 or go to the website at https://988lifeline.org/