Ministry doubts

I don’t know how others feel, but sometimes I feel discouraged when it looks like I am unfavoured by the great God above. Like the impact I am making is so little, almost like the great stories of others ministry discourage rather then encourage. It’s a ploy of the enemy, he seeks to twist all things and entice us to pride and jealousy, and ineffectiveness for Gods kingdoms. The following poem happened one night as I wrestled with discouragement and jealousy in my heart.

I don’t condone all the thoughts I had, they are not all Biblical, but it’s what I felt in the raw, and it ended up on the page. In the end though, as always, God graciously led me back to his truth.

Why is it never me?
Why is it always another?
Why give me hope I can see,
Only to once again smother?!

Not seen, not noticed, not wanted,
Not making any difference at all.
Some destined to succeed when planted.
Am I merely destined to crawl?

Longing to your throne to bring glory
As you rule in the heavenly realms.
Yet only producing small stories
Mostly feeling, I underwhelm.

Unimportant I’m crushed once more;
Nothing I do is impressive.
My spirit broke down on the floor,
You suck‘ I get the message.

You called me so clearly to light,
Yet the flame it burns so small.
Why is my contribution so slight,
While others so great when you call?

I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wrong!
Not needed not cared for not liked!
The voices they echo this song,
As I toss and I turn in the night.

Nobody cares, no not really
They all merely put up with you;
You must know they think you silly,
When crawling you think that you flew
!

Yet a voice over all this now rises
Encouraging gives courage once more.
Don’t you see that the serpent despises
The plans I have set up for you?

You’re royal, claimed, you are mine!
Don’t bend your ear to a lie.
All will become known in time.
Crawling after me IS how you fly!

Repent now dear child, and don’t look,
What I do in the life of another.
For you do not read that whole book;                Don’t envy your sister or brother!

I cry, I am sorry once more
Not to have trusted you Lord above all;
Thank you that I once again soar,
As you lift and forgive me my fall.

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One day

The verse below was the inspiration for this poem.

And the city has no need of sun or moon, for the glory of God illuminates the city, and the Lamb is its light.               Revelations 21:23(nlt)

One day upon the spirit I
Shall fly to see your face.
Weep and tremble shall I both,
Though covered by your grace!

The Son shall say my name,
As I oft spoken his!
A no more shall the accuser
Speak of what lamb forgives!

Glory do I now see little,
Then shall I see full!
And before the throne rejoice,
In the Lord my all in all!

Inexpressible

I wrote this out last year, and the words often echo in my heart as I approach the grandeur of God and find words cannot relise his wonder.

How do I attempt to express

The grandeur of your throne?

How do I commit to page

Words of honour yet unknown?

My feeble mind and praise

Connot capture half your grace!

I cannot now fathom all,

While I still run this race.

I know one day I’ll come before You,

We shall be together!

My soul with joy will praise Thee

Forever and forever!

Until that day, through a fog

Glimpses do I seek

Of Your Holy beauty

Though my eyesights weak.

All the time

I don’t pretend to understand the deepest pains that others have, and may even now be experiencing. I know only that I have seen true, inspiring, beautiful faith and reliance upon Christ, displayed in the deepest of sorrow. I have seen and heard of strength beyond measure gifted by the Holy Spirit, to the most broken of souls. Mostly I know God is good all the time, even when we don’t feel it.

God is good all the time,
All the time God is good.
With joy we say this phrase
When things go as they should.

With a joyous shout
We repeat this true refrain.
But do we so say it,
In the midst of our pain?

Is God still good all the time,
When waiting in a line
That seems to take forever,
And your running short on time?

All the time is God good,
If your children or your spouse
Pester you the live long day,
Destroy the once clean house?

Or how about in the pain
That pierces to our core,
As tears stream down cheeks unchecked
And the wounds are raw and sore?

Yes, he is good he doesn’t change,
Does not alter like we do.
Whether life is great and easy,
Or beats relentlessly at you.

We speak these words aloud:
‘All the time God is good!’
In the happy ease of day
As rightly we all should.

But deeply is it uttered,
And truth we hold and find,
When wracked with sobs we whimper:
‘God is good all the time’.

My cold

I’m a big baby when it comes to being sick, and of course a big poem nerd. I wrote this in the midst of my suffering. My kids think it’s funny.

My throat is raw,

Sore in fact.

Upon my word

How quick you act!

 

Hello again

To drippy nose;

It’s you again,

The common cold.

 

My eyes are teary,

My head it aches,

I’m worn and weary

For goodness sake!

 

Stuffed up my nose

Is wadded tissue,

To plug the leak

Which  fluid issues.

 

Yesterday’s me

I now quite loath!

So sickness free,

Without a cold.

 

My husband laughs

Knowing not my woe!

Its been twelve hours

Of this endless cold!!!

 

So call me week,

Or even a baby.

Some will agree,

I say maybe.

 

I may have mocked

If truth be told,

But that’s before

I faced this cold!!

 

 

 

The end of me

This is a poem I wrote one evening when I was struck once again by the human desire to matter; to last beyond ourselves and our existence. I think it is a blessed driving force in us, that leads us to our Creator; to the feet of our Holy eternal God. Any attempt to impact eternity in and of ourselves is destined to fail. But if we allow ourselves to be written into the eternal script penned by the author of all, the significance of our stories become exponential. Ironically, but beautifully, because it is really not about us, but about him!

I’ve come to the end of me.
The journey was brief and dull.

There wasn’t much to see,
Nothing worth worship at all.

Yes, me in myself is a yawn,
Hardly worth even a glance,

Christ reflected by me is as dawn,
Beauty so great to entrance.

The most in myself I can capture,
Interest of three, maybe four.

But Gods words in my mouth enrapture!
And the heavens demand an encore!img_0373

On the page

Anyone who has been able to escape the imprisonment of thoughts, depressing, embittering, harmful, or resentful will understand the essence of this poem. To think too much on past hurts or regrets, is unhealthy. I do not advocate repression of hurts, some wounds must be exposed to be healed, especially to Christ the healer of all. But sometimes we have to go through a season of placing a cone on our head, so we don’t lick and reopen wounds, causing them to fester!

Further what I am trying to say in this poem is, even too much dwelling on past glories, can hadicap the plans and triumph of our future. This especially must be remembered as Christians. Many of the lives in scripture could have rested on their laurels so to speak, and many of them did. But it was always to their detriment. Lives in Christ move ever forward, or backward. There is very little standing still; even as we rest in Christ, it is meant to be for our growth!

On every page was written,

Joy and pain and life.

In memories dwelt on, or hidden,

A choice for happiness or strife.

The book read in our thoughts,

Of our past, and all reflected.

Bitter memories release when caught.

Hold fast glad moments when selected!

And be advised, not too much,

Dwell on things now all past.

Learn from, gain from, grow and such;

Hold them loosely in your grasp.

For your story, on must go;

Though you might not know to where.

Looking back it is hard to know,

Future plans for you out there.