Patience

another day -
and I'm counting still.

how many more of these,
etchings,
do I need?

each scratch on the walls
of my soul,
screams,
a testimony of
this prison build
through my
impatience

and only
comes freedom
when letting go

see?

Today was again one of those days where I was so frustrated with my inability and impatience, wanting things that I know should wait.  And so I pace in my head, shaking my fists, when really what this impatience is doing is constricting me, robbing me of freedom to let go and let God.  I was reminded of this poem, which I wrote sometime last year when I went through a similar kind of impatience.  Guess I wrote this poem then to remind me now to not ever forget Gods timing is perfect and putting our trust in Him frees us.

I will quiet you with My Love

see the storm brewing

dark clouds stewing

thunder rolls

lightning crash, dash

in a flash, destruction

“Through this storm I will,

I will quiet you with My love”

another deadline missed,

work, work, work

no one knows how you ache,

regrets your mistakes

so you fall out of bed

another day to dread

“Come to Me, I will,

I will quiet you with My love”

decisions, decisions, decisions

how do you make them with precision?

shoulders hunched

such a heavy load you carry

“Cry to Me, I will,

I will quiet you with My love”

another friend in need

another heart that bleeds

and you keep on carrying

these responsibilities

“Let be, let Me

In their need I will,

I will quiet you with My love”

so many things bombarding

seeking, weeping, lost

 you drift around

“Look to Me, be still

Ask of Me. I will

Bind your heart to Mine,

Comfort you when you are crying,

Give you all that's Mine

Let go,

Stop trying, I will

I will quieten you with my love,

my love.”

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17)

Praise

It shouldn't be about
praise
recognition
Lord, where are You in this?
How can I even speak
when my fountain runs dry
all died up
even unplugged, I am empty
A perfect vessel never leaks,
am I so contained?
May I break,
allow me to cascade into nothingness
I am not of consequence
when silence is my coat
and, at what cost
would I stay so composed?
Lord, allow me to break for You
May all I receive, spill where I go
May this vessel, broken as she be
bring glory to Thee
It should be about
praise,
recognition,
but only in Your presence
How can I still doubt any of it all
You touch me
and I realise
I am tiny

I have been/might still be struggling with accepting that God wants to use me for His glory.  I sometimes get the sense that my idea of what that might be and His are worlds apart.  I think of all the possibilities and the bigger ones scare me, will I be able to handle praise or recognition and remember who its all for or will I fall off the wagon?  I can only pray that God shapes my character such that it will be about praise for Him and not me and my abilities.

Stories

I write stories too -

un-conventional

one word per line

about people praying, straying,

about this speck of dust in my eye

about it becoming a forest 

and leaving me blind

now I pray,

like those people in my stories,

I pray for extinction of the trees,

because though its cool in this shade -

it constantly rains, over me

and the sun can never shine

can never reach,

past these leaves.

You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye. (Matthew 7:5)

We all like to “make up stories” about others, whether aloud to someone else or in the safety of your own head.  It's so easy to judge people and it probably can not be avoided,  but what do you do with these preconceptions of yours?  Do you just go with it or do you consciously decide to understand the situation better or give that person a chance?  I often forget that I am not without flaw myself. 

Daybreak

As dawn approaches, 
The sun lifts its head and yawns - 
Its breath warms the earth