Our Savior's Band

(You'll forgive me, I hope, that this is a very old poem written on 1-30-06, and, though it is not so great anymore, was very good back then.)

Come astonish me with your tricks
And watch the sky, the clouds, the mix.
Skip a stone across for me
Until the day that we are free
To talk, to laugh, to change to one
Like clouds and sky melt in the sun.
Stroke my hair and hold my hand
And don't make light our Savior's band,
But listen closely as He guides your feet,
Though He guides you far from me.
For he knows loneliness and rage,
Hardship, dying, passion, pain.
But come alone to Him in rest
And He will give you what is best.
Maybe He will have us to band
And unite our calloused, searching hands
Or, like clouds and sky melt in the sun,
Unite our two hearts into one.

Feet Against this Floor

Everyone is so silent tonight that no one can hear me.
He turns with shining, fiery eyes and send the fear shooting in.
Nothing appeases him.
The hot night is cold with the hardness of our feet against this floor.
When will I make my peace with you?
What must I do to show you?
My heart churns on. I want to hide away,
Far away from this hardness in my chest,
This fear of what you'll say.
What makes you so?
What has turned you off inside?
If you turned your eyes from dark, cold figures,
You would have so much more; you would know so much more.
But you cannot, I know. You love these things, these very things you hate,
So you lock us up in bars of hardness and fear.
But we will never be free by seeking your pleasure,
By seeking your hand at the lock.

I am a Ball, You are a Puzzle

You asked me in not so many words, I thought;
So I pieced you together in my mind. How have I done?
I tried to discover you, but you turned from me
Like a night phantom. You appear and disappear;
You mingle interest with disinterest until I feel I'm like the rest,
A trinket on your shelf, shiny and fun to muse at sometimes,
But you don't see that I'm always here, searching into you,
Though I don't play your mind over in my fingers like some sparkling ball,
Fun to muse at sometimes, illuminating my eyes, my smile.
You hold the magic over me and are blind to my fear
That you will set me down again, toss me in the trash,
Or worse, never let me understand.

Ours for Freedom

We feel the dirt beneath our feet, breathe in the country air;
Shoes pressed down against the concrete, hot dogs in the air.
We see the mighty heights of these His mountains,
The mighty depths of these His lakes.
We see His hand outstretched to us,
"This is yours for freedom."
May we ever rise to sing His praise,
Rejoicing in victory and beauty.
May we look to the skies and breathe in deep,
Enjoying the undeserved without complacency.

Things that Stay and Things that Change

It's strange to think about sometimes, how you change with age and how you stay the same. Some of those things you hated when you were very little stay with you for the rest of your life and you learn to accept it like something good, and some of those things that you feel you are cursed with God helps you through and you'd never then imagine the sweet blessedness you now enjoy.
When I was five, I hated those baby hairs that curled around my face and since they go by such a name I figured that with age they would leave me... They haven't yet, but we've made peace. My lips were chapped back then all the time and I hated the taste of Carmex, but I had to keep using it. My lips are still chapped pretty much all the time, but I don't use Carmex anymore, and it means that at least I can fully enjoy the refreshing moisture of lip balm.
But I used to always feel very much alone as well and mostly set aside from the world. It's easy for people to befriend the little talkative kids, but the really quiet, thoughtful ones are rather intimidating I suppose, and I tended to be slow about making friends. It seemed some kind of curse--though I would simultaneously not have chosen to be anyone different--that no one really understood me outside of my family. It was my fault, of course, but as very little children we are our natural selves, not thinking, without a great deal of instruction, to be like the rest. But this has faded, by the grace of God, with much time, though I may perhaps always struggle. I know love and acceptance. I have friends that I care about and that care about me to the point that we fight to understand each other and minister to each other. It's a work of God.
Then there is legalism which controlled me thoroughly when I was young. It was horrible. I can not think of that time in my life without pain. I would never want to do it again. Some people don't see legalism as sin, but I do, because I know how it works. I think it's the enemy himself, or an angel under his command, endeavoring to enslave a person, to dictate their actions, to continue cracking his whip, reminding him how far he is from God's standard, telling him how much God expects, how disappointed God is with his life. When a person allows the enemy to enslave them this way, that is legalism. I feared I would always be it's slave, but by the grace of God, I have been saved from this as well! I pray I may never fall into it's trap again, for it is not at all a thing of God. He never intended His children to do His work without His power. It is, in fact, impossible.
So, praise God for baby hairs, for chapped lips, for friends, for freedom in Christ!