It will never be
the same
after pain.
How will we bend?
Loss and
unfulfilled hope
leave craters --
sink holes --
and acquaint us
with shadows.
Hunger drives
a woman and her family
far from home.
Death strikes
and Naomi,
embittered,
turns homeward,
determined to
need no one
ever again.
With stalwart devotion,
wrapped in grief
of her own,
Ruth
commits herself to
The Embittered One,
a cushion
for pain shared.
Inescapable wounds
can bind us together
or divide us;
trap us in an endless loop
or free us to face
the fragmented
mirror;
to read the scars
like Braille,
telling the story
of God's heart,
broken for us.
Fallen creatures
are prickly
as porcupines,
the wounded often lash out
in terror,
slashing the very hand
reached down
in kindness.
We cannot escape
this world unscathed.
What story
will our scars tell?
Ruth 1:1-5
Lying ideas circulate
and breed
more lies.
Couched in psycho-jargon
and hissed
in hungry ears
ideas shape us
and
misshape us.
Self-serving
inflates egos
and distorts reality.
God's mercy overflows,
transforming our
crooked souls.
He blesses us with gifts -
not to adorn our mantels
with shining trophies -
but to equip us
for service.
Lay down your rights.
Surrender
to Him who lavished
mercy on you.
Become a channel
through which mercy flows,
your specialness
a conduit.
So open up.
Open up.
Let it go.
Feel His pleasure as you
give it up.
Give it up.
Rom. 12:1-8
Measured by mirrors,
media and
multiple fears,
my value is
pin-prick small.
Sized up to
the immensity of
spinning galaxies,
I am a grain
of sand.
My spot in time
is a mere
millisecond,
faster than a blink.
Yet You crafted me carefully
and endowed
me with eternal
significance.
You take my breath away,
Majestic God!
How can I wrap
my limited mind
around this paradox?
Made in Your image
to reflect Your loveliness
to all,
to see Your loveliness
in every one.
Seen as accidental products
of evolution,
no lives truly matter.
Survival of the fittest
reduces every interaction
to a power struggle;
the hero is the last one
standing
though the streets
run with blood.
Left without a maker,
I will make myself
and inherit arrogance.
When plans shatter,
I inherit self-loathing.
Both twist my soul
and pervert
my reflection.
I am more than my successes
or failures.
God, give me Your glasses
through which to see
this truth.
Help me shed the lies
and shiver,
speechless
in a shower of
Your unconditional love
daily.
(Ps. 8 and Isa. 14)
