A Basket of Summer Fruit (02/07/19)

See! A basket of summer fruit!
This system of things is coming to its end.
The wicked will not partake of the fruit -
no pressed cakes will they make for themselves -
but it is they who will be pressed and crushed
in the winepress of His anger.
No poultices will they make for themselves;
their boils will fester and no healing will be found.
The fruit will rot,
and dogs and flies will be attracted to it,
devouring the disgusting thing.

No Man's Land (02/04/19)

I do not belong in the world,
nor am I part of the congregation.
This is a no man's land,
it is solitary confinement.

I should fill these prison walls
with songs to my God
and populate it with many thoughts
arising from His word.

Words of February 3, 2019

Outside, the snow falls.
Inside, I am stabbed at heart;
I have been cast out.

--------

With pencil in hand,
lazy Sunday afternoon
shows me uninspired

--------

Snow is in the air
and the sky is a grey mass -
Winter's sad beauty

--------

there will come a day
when my heart will stop condemning me
and that day will be
the day of my death

--------

Do you ever just want to completely unravel
and then let the yarn of your body
be knitted into something warm and new?

Let This Exile Not Be Forever

Jehovah kept sending against me his prophets;
again and again they would come against
the chiefs and princes of my heart,
but I did not listen.

And now? Now he has removed me from my people,
sending me into exile;
I wear the prison chains imposed upon me
by a worldly king.
I am in distress.
I have done wrong,
and I am being disciplined for it.

But now, O Jehovah,
look within me,
and see my change of heart!
I am limited in my exile, but look!
My eyes are roving your word,
making me forget these chains of mine.
Look! You are beginning to take shape within my thoughts,
and these prison walls fade away.
Your prophets you do not send,
but their words return to me,
correcting and guiding me,
reaching my heart now unlike before.

I can only hope, Jehovah, Loving Father,
that this exile of mine may not be forever.
Please let it be as long as need be
for the correcting and healing of me,
and no more.
Please do not leave me in this prison forever,
to waste away to nothing,
to die and be taken away to that lasting house,
and no more see any days under the sun.

Today I read of Amos

Today I read of Amos,
the pronouncements against Moab, Judah, and Israel:
haughtiness, corruption, idolatry, immorality!
Like road sand mixing with snow,
stealing away the purity and beauty,
so were the thoughts and actions of those ancient ones.

Father, Sovereign Lord,
may I renounce sinfulness and cling to you,
just as the snow clings
to the swaying branches of the firs.
May I be like the purest snow,
receiving your light and reflecting it,
magnifying your great name.