I Do Not Understand

The loss, the tears, the grief,

The pain that seems to grow.

The broken, bleeding hearts

That splintered by this blow.

They say You’re on the throne,

That all is in Your Hand.

Yet, God, I look around

And I don’t understand.


While sobbing fills my ears,

She trembles in my arms.

I have no words to say,

There are no cheering charms.

They say You’re still in charge,

That all is in Your Hand.

Yet, God, I look around

And I don’t understand.


I dearly want to help,

I watch him struggling.

But I can only stand

And pray You’ll comfort bring.

Oh, God, You’re on the throne,

And all is in Your Hand,

But when I look around,

I do not understand!


Prayers that seem unanswered,

The cries that seem ignored,

The pleas that fell to grief,

Is Your ear deaf, oh LORD?

If You’re still on the throne,

And all is in Your Hand,

Why, when I look around,

Do I not understand?


My own grief comes in waves,

Though stifle it, I might.

The weight I feel, the guilt,

The tears, I often fight.

I know You’re on the throne,

And all is in Your Hand,

But still I look around,

And I don’t understand.


I look into Your Word,

It clearly says You hear.

Yet, promise, it does not,

The answer will be clear.

Nor that while on Your throne,

With all things in Your Hand,

That when I look around,

I’ll ably understand.


Oh, God, increase my trust;

My faith that’s trembling now.

Please comfort those I love,

And bring us peace somehow.

I know You’re on You’re throne,

With all things in Your Hand,

And when I look around,

I will not understand.


You have not lost Your love,

E’re faithful You’ll remain.

I can not see Your plan,

The glory You will gain.

I know You’re on Your throne

With all things in Your Hand,

And one day You’ll allow,

That I will understand.


Until that day, oh LORD,

I give this grief to You.

I give You those I love,

And trust Your Word is true.

You’re always on Your throne

With all things in Your Hand

And when You look around,

You fully understand.

~Rejoice with Those Who Rejoice…

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.”
Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice…
Not always an easy call.
Rejoicing is easy when felt,
But what if it’s not felt at all?

What if their cause for rejoicing
Stabs a sharp-edged knife in your gut?
It saws and it tears at you mercilessly,
Making its horrible cut?

What if their joy is your sorrow,
Shattering your heart to bits,
Splintering the ruptured fragments,
And grinding to powdery bits?

What if their blessing weighs you
And burdens you to the ground?
What if it flattens, prostrates you,
Ceaselessly your back to pound?

What if their time of rejoicing,
Is instead, your season for tears?
The rivers in your head are broken
And your sobs start to work their gears?

What if, while the other rejoices,
The same fills you with dread and fear?
Apprehension, dismay, or even terror,
Are ever abiding and near?

Oh, Christian, with heart so heavy,
Ready to drown under thy load,
There is Someone Who will uphold you,
Give you strength, as you walk this road.

I can’t say that you won’t continue,
To water with tears, the steps you take,
Nor whether the pain will be lifted,
Or easy your load, will He make.

But He’ll strengthen you as you smile
And rejoice with those Heavn’ly blest.
He’ll bring comfort as you cry unto Him,
And bring your pain to Him, Who knows best.

If, in pain, you rejoice with another,
I promise, despite fear, you will find,
The Almighty Creator of Galaxies
Is loving, compassionate, and kind.

Trust the King of the Universe
And rejoice with your rejoicing brother.
For, in this obedience to Scripture,
We show love to God and each other.

To the KING be all the glory!

Save

~Scorching Tears

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Do you ever hide your face
In a pillow’s friendly folds,
Then let your heart break in bits,
And release the grief it holds?

Do you ever cling so tight,
To an object, stuffed, but dear,
A little doll or teddy bear,
And shower them in many a tear?

Do you ever fall to the floor,
Prostrate and unable to stand,
Letting the sobs overtake your being
Letting them have their demand?

Do you remember, oh, sorrowing one,
When you can’t hold it in anymore,
When you let loose those scorching tears,
When your heart feels like it has tore,

Do you remember the One on the cross,
Who rose with great power and might?
Who holds all of life in His great hands,
Who understand all grief and all plight?

Take your grief, oh sorrowing one,
Take it to the KING from the cross.
He’ll help you to bear the heartache,
He’ll help you to bear your loss.

The grief won’t just go away,
It won’t just give you a release,
But He will carry you through,
And give you His sweet peace,

But first, you have to surrender,
And let go of your own strong will,
Then, let Him take things over,
And in you, His peace, He’ll fill.

To the KING be all the glory!

~An Ode to Ignorance

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An Ode to Ignorance

I’ve sat here many a time this week,
Seeking to pen a proper post.
And yet, ‘ere I try to form the words,
I may get a few sentences, at most.

No topic would clearly come to me,
Upon no subject could I lay a hand
Instead, they flew away – far a’non –
And I left without a distinct plan.

I scribbled in circles, I tapped on the keys,
For once, nothing would me, assist.
Until Lady Jocelyn did suggest –
Well, after all, she suggested, this.

That I write a post without any knowledge –
Well, about my lacking intellectual cement –
So, here you have it – an ode to ignorance!
Perhaps some amusement, to your day, it has lent.

To the KING be all the glory!

~The Rotten Lad

– – –

This poem is not meant to be taken too literally. To be honest, I think I wrote most of it after reading Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and decided to try my hand at a similar kind of poetry. (Not saying I succeeded!) Bethany enjoyed this poem and encouraged me to finish it, so here it is! Oh, and it must be read with a Scottish accent – whether aloud or in your head. That is an absolute must. :D

 

The Rotten Lad
A tale this is, of a rotten lad
With a thatch of Scot red hair.
He lay around, a lazy bones,
As if he hadn’t a care.

His arms were skinny from lack of use
His were skeletons – aye!
His body so suffered from disuse,
It could do little else, but sigh.

His head t’was empty, don’t you know
With only images would he fill.
Show after film after another he watched
‘Til his imagination did he kill.

He eyed a book as a movie gone wrong.
“Why ‘tis only a script!” he said.
And he used a hardbound, classic tale,
As a plate to eat his bread.

“There is no sense in games,” said he,
“After all, what point have they?”
So, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms,
Stubbornly refusing to play.

As then to study, no worse than he
Has ever before walked this earth!
“I learn all I need, from my movies indeed!”
So he happ’ly gave his knowledge a dirth.

I know not what will become of him,
For the lad hated all work, as well.
“If work were jolly and not such a bore!”
So, honest labor from his consideration fell.

There, he sat, upon his old couch,
Letting precious time pass him by.
Ah! Some one need remind him, our time’s not ours,
And eventually, away it will fly.

One day, he will wish, he didn’t just waste,
Those precious years with mindless wand’ring.
He’ll wish he had read, knew how to work,
And could study just about anything.

So listen and be thankful, while you may scoff,
That your parents didn’t allow such as he,
Because, this mindless lad, though rotten I may call,
Could have once been the wish of you or me.

To the KING be all the glory!