Burn, Redemptive Flame (Isaiah: Light to the Nations) - Tim Knipp (Isa. 5:18-21; 6:5)

A tapestry of travesties
woven of wayward threads;
a deeply disappointed 
Father mourns the loss -
the severing of bonds,
the sickening snarl of sins
His children wallow in.

Carts loaded with rotting piles
of overripe lies and selfish deeds,
amassed debts to wrongs unaddressed,
greed rationalized
and putrid appetites.
Dragging our groaning loads,
we challenge God
to prove His
worth.

Double-edged words drip
from slack lips,
stab for weakness
and divvy up Truth
to serve it with a slab
of jellied lies.
We gobble it all down
indiscriminately.
Words unworthily shared
or miserly withheld
serve no one.
Words obfuscate and rattle
when they can be jewels
shimmering with
reflected brilliance.

Arrogance is an ugly scar
on an otherwise
beautiful face.
Closed ears
and closed hearts
refuse the possibility
of error
or a better plan.
In "us" we trust,
thank you very much.

It is I who am flawed
as well -
no better than any of us.
I am carting my own load of trash,
cursing words stain my tongue
and I wear oversized confidence
like camouflage fatigues. 
  
So I kneel before
the Father,
knowing my unworthiness,
my shame;
and He touches 
my lips
with redemptive
holy 
flames.

It All Belongs to Him; Isaiah - Light of the Nations: Tim Knipp (Lev. 25:8,14,23; Isa. 5:8; Luke 12:20a)

Return again
to where it began -
the land belongs
to God.
His plan is good,
to care for all -
the land belongs
to Him.
Ask not what the world
can do for you -
ask what you can 
give for the world.

We accumulate things -
stacks upon stacks -
stealing from the desolate,
raping the land.
Woe to us.
We will smother in things,
they will drain our blood,
cold winds will whistle
through barren stubs
and His land
will groan 
and quake.

Endless consumption
depletes His bounty;
blind allegiance to 
"bigger is better"
topples nations,
leaving the vulnerable
to wither
and beg.
These, these,
the least of these
are those His heart
bleeds for.

Woe to us
when we shut our eyes,
grabbing wildly
for more and
one more.

His economy is just -
we do not deserve it all,
or even "enough" 
when others
far weaker
have less than 
enough.

As I peer into
the storehouse of my heart
I see dust collecting
on useless things,
seemingly substantial
but devoid of life.
I glance down
and see my fists,
knuckles white,
turned inward
and
clenched.

Open my hands,
digit by digit -
help me let go
of all that glitters.
Let it fall through 
my fingers
as I lift them
in service to You
and those
You love. 

Remind me again,
again and again -
it all belongs
to You.

Sing me a Song; Isaiah: Light of Nations series - Lynn Gill (Isa. 5:1-7)

My people... a light to the nations

Sing me a song
of things that I know-
of fertile earth
cleared lovingly 
with strained sinews
of toil.
Sing of vines planted
and tended,
a harvest protected
and expected;
a song that I know.

But a sour note chimes
when the harvest reeks
and the farmer's tears
dampen 
traitorous soil.

Sing of the farmer's
anger then;
he will tear down
the vineyard,
lay waste the stalks,
and make it
a barren wasteland
in his ire.

Our God is the farmer
who looked for a crop
of justice
and mercy but
saw brutality;
who called for a song
of justice and peace,
but heard only 
the cries of those
who bleed.

Listen to the song
of our God
as He warns us of
what's to come,
lamenting and
storming,
His heart shattered
when we run shallow
or turn away
from His care
to engage
in what only
consumes us.

Sing a song 
of a fruitful vine,
gnarled with age
and pruned just so;
rooted in His 
sturdy Truth.

Sing to me
when I close my ears,
when my heart is
encrusted with stone.
Sing truth,
sing hope,
sing rebuke,
sing love;
sing God's holy
and severest
grace.

Holy Love, Isaiah: Light of the Nations - Tim Knipp

All will be blessed
through you.
Through you and
your seed
will all be blessed.
All and each - through you
all earth's
people

will be blessed,
blessed,
blessed.

Such is the heartbeat
of our God.
We hear it again
and again,
through Joseph,
Ruth,
David
and Solomon.

He says,
Look to the future
I have planned:
I will be exalted
above the earth
and all peoples
will be drawn
to Me.
Every tribe
and nation
will live together
in harmony
and justice -
centered around
my pulsing
heart
of holy love.

Holy love
seeks out wickedness,
insists on holiness -
severely roots out
festering angers
and deformed
egos
in order to bless.

On the cross
Christ spread his arms
to reveal
My love for all peoples,
drawing them,
calling to them,
to you,
so that all might
receive the 
promised 
blessing:
My holy love.

Gen. 12:3;22:18;26:4;28:14; Isa. 2:1-5; John 12:20-21

Return to Me - Isaiah: Light to the Nations - Christian Lindbeck (Isa. 1:2-28)

Fierce grief expressed
resolutely
to an errant child.

Out of true, 
we shudder and shimmy,
struggling to stay afloat
yet denying our duplicity
with hypocritical 
leers.

The Father grieves
and steams -
"my people"
"my children"
"my beloved"
have betrayed Me.
You have embraced
your darker natures
and stubbornly
resisted all 
my love
and discipline.
What more can
I do?

I see destruction
and desolation
awaiting you.
Underneath your shiny veneer
is rotten wood,
riddled with honeycomb -
you will shatter
at the merest breath.
Your phony ceremonies
will not save you -
you go through the motions
while treasuring
obscenities
in your heart.
It's revolting!

How far you have come
from the joyful
and pure hearts
that shone like diamonds
to entice the
nations.

Turn!
Turn from your hell-bent ways!

If you come back to Me,
we will begin anew -
your wickedness
will be obliterated,
though saturated with blood,
your hands will be washed
and sanitized,
completely clean.

But,
if you will not,
it will be to your own destruction.
I raised you to be honest
and you have lied,
to show tenderness
and compassion,
but you have ravaged
and trampled
the vulnerable.

Hear me call to you
again and again
even as you spit
on My name
and find your hope
in things.
When the shallow air
you breathe
chokes you,
when wealth trickles
to dust and fails
to comfort,
come back,
come back.

I will always,
always
love you.

Invite - Christian Lindbeck

Hope Rises - Christian Lindbeck (Matt. 5:14-16; Acts 2)

Taking soundings 
of our surroundings
is wisdom.
Awareness of the direction
our shadow falls
lends specificity
and 
orientation.

Hope chirrups from the bushes,
hinting at
an invitation
to follow
the leaf-strewn path.
Hope welcomes
and whispers,
seeks out
and 
cherishes the unlovely.
Hope is a glimpse,
a glimmer
of possibility;
a light penetrating
through dark brambles,
a previous prison.

Hope is a minuscule seed
buried in the tomb
of earth,
pregnant with potential.

Just imagine
the hope that spawns hope -
just imagine
the dreams
that can become actual
and transform lives.

Earth's naval
is an eddy, 
spinning God's-breath
vortexes,
ever-widening circles
of power
flows to enliven
a dead sea,
resurrecting
and restoring all
it touches.
Come.
Drink freely.

And each who drinks,
from each will flow
life-giving liquid,
precious drops
of sparkling hope,
glistening tiaras,
chandelier mirrors
multiplying
dancing flickers
like sparks
dotting
and igniting
the night 
sky.