Sunday, May 21, 2017

Ears to Hear

Used to do lots more of this
Seeds of a message heard
Some sort of Heaven's kiss
And I would wake
And rub my eyes
And find where thoughts might take
A messenger and little more
And that was all the thrill
In what He had in store
Scrounging for likely reader hits
A vain sad garden path
Oft perused in starts and fits.
The numbers seemed to mystify
Most bloggers typed to score
But bottom line, not I
A few got back perhaps a note
On things I wrote
But that became much less the goal
A worship rare
In one quenched soul
And heard God did with joy
His whispers blessed
This odd newsboy.
Now thanks arise for sure
In yet more verse
In me a hard days' cure.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

The Transaction

Oh but you have been in church service all your life and Mom and Dad before you.

John the Baptist preceded Jesus crying out Repent. Jesus arrived and reiterated John and added Believe the Gospel. What had changed? The arrival of the Man. His convicting presence and messages. His gracious daily walk and service. People knew that there was now a radical turn in the road...and more than likely despondency in the status quo.

And that is where you are. Stuck in false hopes in an organization or traditions or a warming family circle.

The process is called repentance unto life...or simply coming to Christ with empty hands. A simple personal duty and transaction. Please. Thank you. Praise you. Please equip me daily with Yourself Lord Jesus.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

Laughing Matter


It seems like a lark
And the giggles abound
And the parties and excess
Of fools must be found
There’s no time for hard issues
Or things of the heart
Because don’t you know
There’s a game we must start.
Has many cool levels
And weapons galore
And warriors and zombies
Like never before
And blood flows like water
And time just flies by
Not missing the outdoors
Or spring, no not I.
There’s time enough later
For training and work
But what are the chances
The world’s gone berserk
With terror and drive-bys
And government spin
And no one admits
All the debt we are in.
I’d rather be laughing
I’d rather be high
I’d rather be gaming
Than dutifully dry.
This life’s really short
Holding nothing beyond
So bring on the laughter
Before I am gone.

Note: We have little idea how many young people are stuck on this destructive, desensitizing, hopeless treadmill. No honest exchange. No real friendships. No workable skills. No sense of purpose. No hope of Heaven. And we think we are showing love by buying their approval with more of the same.
Occasionally, some of you

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Brother Fuller, Overflowing

His voice almost an auctioneer’s
His tone assured, authoritative
His words convicting
Pure scripture many times
And with joy unspeakable:
“We are beholders, containers
Of the supernatural, my friends.
Time and again Pentecost comes
Perhaps not with the grandeur
Of that First Church
But warmly, honestly
And with the fragrance of Christ.
We know of our roots, our journey
Our cleansing
Unavoidable trials
Certain destination.
We have been called
We remember the Spirit’s wooing
We know not why
We only rejoice
Circumstances notwithstanding.
That oppressive world says
We are tied up in knots
By rules and by fear.
In so saying they are part wrong and part right
No not rules but constraining love
Not dread of the Almighty
But holy compunction never to disappoint.
Love’s captives we are.
And thankful for it.
We take the abuse
Forgive at all costs
Share what little we have
Speak the good report
Stop at the gutter
To uplift the tear-streaked ones.
It’s the life force of Jesus
Nothing of our manufacture
And isn’t it wonderful?
Unlike any other known joy?
There are some here
Who need the transaction
They know it
You know it…Brother…Sister…Child.
The invitation will be given shortly.”
Just then the choir
Off to the side in that summer’s tent
Began singing:
Tell me the old old story
Of unseen things above
Of Jesus and His glory
Of Jesus and His love.

Sunday, September 11, 2016


She came in for some groceries
With cane and darkened glasses
Slow the pace and smiling
A Saturday event
Most others rushed oblivious
To her need for human comfort
A simple talk and flesh-press
Would keep her smiling yet.
Apartment was a still place
With photos of the loves gone
Figurines of Doulton
Those treasures obsolete
Maidens bright on hilltop
And windswept their long dresses
Eyes that flashed a future
And oh so tiny feet.
But the feet now pained her
And memories came up sketchy
Products in this market
Confusing as of late
Then she saw me shelving
For dairy and for frozen
Felt that here was someone
To listen and relate.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Suffering Bishop

He tangoed with the world

And they loved him from the pulpit

Spoke the layman's tongue

Pacing oft their aisles close by

Used to love the Greek

And its marvelous precision

Used to woo his pipe

As the smoke rose to the sky

Had a faithful wife

Who would laugh and thus relieve him

Had a humble start

In some store-front dens of prayer

Rose in rank ascribing

To Church calendar's dictation

Still the people's hearts

Were his major love and care.

“Bishop” soon they called him

But heart still in the sheepfold

Bleatings much preferred

To the policies of men.

Bibles less and less

Made the fount of life's solution

Could they ever child-like

Hush ...and come to Christ again?

Soon things got still sillier

Changing holy writ and gender

Talking oft in circles

Of the marriage rite defiled

Making life an option

In the unborn pure and tender

Seeing not their Master

As He praised and hugged each child.

Then the word “retirement”

And the accolades and speeches

Happy pictures taken

And posted quick to Net

Looking back a landscape

With muddy trench and crater

Baffled how the Son of God

Would have the victory yet.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

High Plateau - John 13-17

An ebook with thoughts and poems from Jesus' final hours with disciples in the Upper Room.

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Jes Talkin

I's here agin
An ah have so few woids
But it's the gittin togetha
Most mattas
Ah believe.
And You has the time
Always has the time
Lookin down from
Brilliance an Glory
Settin aside those angels' songs
Jes to consider ma squallin
Or ma pleadin
Ma thankin or my
Plain ole wonda.
Dis ole man
Done had many a hard job
Often cruel or stupid orders
From tha Man.
A spell in the joint
An keen ears an
A much sharpened shiv
Jes ta raise up the odds.
Afta dark.
An a wife and two chillen
Hardly knew me afta
The twelve year stint.
But you knows me
You stick in dere fo me.
And you brought 
Some good folks
Crosst ma path
Prayin and heppin
An smilin folks.
Ah can almose smell
Yo Spirit on em.
Second chances and singin.
Friendly talkin nights
Clean woik now.
Ah sketches a little as well
Scenes of pain, hope or joy
Two of em sittin
Up now on the library wall
Folks considerin
Provin dis ole man
Sees an thinks
Feels an releases
Fatha you have ma devotion
Such as tis.
An ma good repote.
I love Ya
Gwine stop now ta
Read Psalm one-oh-seven.