Posts Tagged: poem

Changing Lens of Depression

Change the Lens of Depression

Change my Lens of Depression

I need to change my lens of depression.

Depression is a poor lens
through which to filter existence.
Always bringing into focus
the wrong subject matter.
Macro sizing doubts and fears and blurring
hope and possibility.

God, you expand my black-and-white world,
revealing the vivid spectrum of colors.
Transforming possibility
through the lens of your love.

Depression is a poor lens
through which to filter relationships.
Always bringing into focus
the hidden thought behind motives.
Macro sizing negative opinions and
minimizing tangible truth.

God, you show me we are all sinners
desperately needing the development
of our negative image.

Depression is a poor lens
through which to zoom in on faults.
Constantly removing from focus
our value and expecting perfection. 
Macro sizing disappointment
and downsizing grace. 

God, you show me the ugliness of when I hurt others
and give me the opportunity for repentance
and retakes. 

You change the lens of depression
and help me to see the bigger picture of
your love for mankind.

 

For Further Reading

Uncrushed by Beth Marshall

Freedom Starts With Hope

Shared Grief

Shared Grief

Shared grief sometimes comes when you aren’t expecting it. I am passionate about poetry because it is a way of observing truth and looking at it from different angles. The psalms are some of the most used scriptures in the Bible. Why? Because we understand what it feels like to have our bones broken. Our hearts often cry out, “Where are you, God?” Poetry is a chance to be honest with our suffering, to speak truth over the pain, and to remember that God is not silent or distant.
Maxine and I met at a writer’s conference. We were strangers, yet grief bonded our hearts as we cried out to Jesus for the things we could not control or understand. You never know how your life will touch another. Share your story. Hope is needed, and your unique testimony may be just what someone else needs to keep turning their page through the darkness of deep sorrow.
“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12, ESV).
your grief, my grief
your tears, my dry eyes
death, near-death, despair
dirt crusted divine hands created
reached out to receive, retrieve His beloved
                                               — Maxine Composto  10/25/23
Bio: Maxine Composto holds a Master’s Degree in Human Relations. She is a Certified Bereavement
Specialist and a retired Executive Assistant. Retirement has given her the freedom to pursue her
lifelong love of learning and passion for writing. She won first place for Flash Fiction in Word
Weavers’ 2024 Tapestry Writing Contest. When she is not writing she is crocheting baby beanies
for a Pregnancy Center in Central Florida.
For more resources on shared grief:
Broken Butterflies is an opportunity
to cry out in your pain like the psalmist.
Spring Cleaning

Spring Clean And Find Hope

Spring Clean and Find Hope

May my tears mix with yours, Oh Lord.
Wash the stench of despair from my soil
until blight is pruned and joy
sprouts in defiant abundance.
Lift my head to bask in the sunshine of your presence.

Grow me to be a fragrant delight.

 

Tools to spring clean

Whether you are dealing with grief or despair, you need reminders never to give up. This can come in many forms.

  • Create your own memory garden.
    • Add favorite colors or the favorite color of a loved one.
    • Place reminders, such as butterflies, in the planter to remind you never to give up.
    • Weed and water regularly. This can be hard when grief or despair is at its heaviest, but the habit can also be a reminder and catalyst for healing.
  • Create a file of encouragement
    • notes from others
    • funny quotes
    • scriptures
    • a playlist that lifts your spirit
  • Spend time in nature
    • Engaging all of your senses can instantly lift your spirits
    • Find a local park to walk and observe ways God provides regularly

Lord, as the seasons change, help me to spring clean. Thank you. Nature testifies that what is hidden will be revealed. My life feels cluttered with doubt, but I know that when I think this way, you are stretching and growing me. When I can’t see the flowers, please remind me of the seeds you’ve planted. Amen

For Further Reading: Spring Haiku

One of my favorite devotionals: Streams in the Desert

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

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.

 

 

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?

 

Poetry Testifies to What I’ve Seen and Heard

Hero words take up swords
and slice through false beliefs with the authority
of the one sent.
Poetry is a place to find refuge. You are here
in the observations of my soul. Reminding winter of
its boundaries and cultivating plump vines for harvest
in the desert of despair.

Sustaining Word

I love the way you invite
me to touch truth. I run my
fingers over your tangible promises like
oranges ripening in an infinite orchard. A tenacious
orchard unhindered by blight, drought, fire, or suffering. Each
morning, I pluck encouragement, understanding, and endurance from
your Word. I tear into the tender flesh of submission and humility. Your
Word fills me with satisfying joy as I
squeeze out the fresh juice of  Your Spirit and drink the glory of Your creation.

 

He remembers his covenant forever, the word that he commanded, for a thousand generations…

Psalm 105:8 ESV

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/