Why hell?

“Why hell?”, I asked the missionary
“You were born a sinner, and you need a Saviour.”
“Why hell?’ I asked God
“You are a sinner, and you rejected the Saviour.”

Crowining Glory of Man

Lord, when men hurt me
remind me of my worth
of the image you have created
me in
for love Lord,
not for black eyes
not for abusive words
not for sexual gratification
and then tossed,
not to be neglected
not to be common
not to be controlled
grabbed by my heart
strings, and made
into a marionette
to dance for
to perform for
to dress seductively for
to be scorned
then have my veil ripped off
and my tenderness disregarded
Lord, stand as My Champion
put out my worth
when they tell me
Eve was at fault
and women were
created to be
barefoot and pregnant
barefoot and pregnant
I will point out that
Deborah was a judge
of Israel
and that the great general Sisera
had his temple hammered in
by Jael,
Mary the mother of Jesus
carried our Lord in her young
body
God regarded her
Jesus regarded Mary Magdalene
and so I know that the Lord of Glory
has a special and wonderful place
in His Heart for His daughters
and being made common
never was His Design

“You are My Daughter
and I love you,
when men play
with your feelings
and leave you weeping
when they tear your
virgin robes
insult you,
and twist you
to make you a shrew
Know this, that I created
you to be the Crowning Glory
of Man.”

copyright2010misfit1965
(not my image)

The Church

Not a grand cathedral
i attend
nor varnished pews i sit upon
no statues carved to be
a likeness of My Saviour
stained glass windows
of saints do not make
it Christ’s Body
sometimes it’s not even
the man in the pulpit
expected to strengthen us
with his words,
many folks who proclaim
Our Lord don’t really know
Him

though i’ve been to places
where fancy dressed people
stand in the foyeurs greeting
a battery of souls
searching for shelter
begging for mercy
hearts carried in brown paper bags
worn out, incinerated, bled out
casually handed pageant
programs
they were not sheltered,
nor clothed,
they were not fed,
nor loved

i’ve wanted to whisk them
away
in a fiery chariot
to where God’s people
dwell
between the lampstands
and the pillars
where Cheribim and seraphim
lift their wings to Glorify God

Christ is the Rock
we are the living stones
of His gathering
at any hour we cry out!
we beg for consecration
we long for His Appearing
as citizens of Heaven
until His Return
sifting the wheat
looking for fruit
we walk the narrow path
of Redemption.
break bread in houses,
praying in cellars,
even prison cells
caves may serve as meeting
places,
it’s not the venue
that venerates
it is flesh and it is blood

under metal stairwells,
at bus-stops,
on street corners,
in shelters,
where paths lead
to Righteousness they
are walking
where there is Light
men and women of the Lord
read Scriptures,
divide the Word of Truth
reproach the backslidden
comfort the fallen,
heal the sick
preach to the lost

these are tents
temporary places
nothing more,
nothing do we carry
what more can we desire
than the Blood of Jesus
to wash and purify
a heart set aflame
for God
for His Holy Quest
to seek His Cornerstone

church is not a place to go
it is a way of being,
it is our blood, our bones,
our limbs, our faces shining
with God’s Love for a humanity
that will not stand

Church is not a place to pray
or a place to worship
or praise

our hearts are the places of worship
of prayer and praise
we are the temples of the Holy Spirit
holiness is the flesh we wear
as Praise to Jesus
these souls made new
" Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, He is a new creation.
Old things have passed away. Behold all things have been made new."
(2Cor5:17)

wherever saints congregrate
holiness dwells

copyright2010misfit1965
(not my image)

I Don't Know their names

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”
Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod on your feet the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith which is able to quench all of the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the Sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God;
(Ephesians 6:12-17)

I don’t know their names.
I believe God has forbidden them
from whispering their actual names
into the ears of believers.
still they spew their venom,
when I have raised myself from the sanctuary of prayer.
when recent brokenness has become a barrier,
and I choose to press my hands into my own feeble ones
instead of giving the wounds to my Lord.
there are the hisses of the lost angelic host
“How many times has the Lord allowed your hopes to be crushed?”
Uninvited, lingering jeers.
“Too long. God openly mocks you.” I’ve seen the stain of tears."
Any spaces between God’s love and mine
peril my faith
God forbids it
they lurk in the doorways
of my soul, uninvited,
lingering creatures
waiting for the fire of first love
to die down,
when praise and prayer
have cooled
searching for that open window to crawl through

they diabolically search for the spaces
between my heart and God’s
when I pull away in disappointment
when prayers are worn down inside me
and the words, the implorings and the pleadings
and the tears and mucous have dried
on these walls of my faith.
when I feel the abandonment
bleed in urging for You.
and the answers are not forthcoming
when my longing is knotted
and cannot be untied
from the expectations
I have placed upon You.
when I have perceived
Your Voice to come from another
source,
I become lost in that hollow echo
I have created from my need.
the enemies speak rationally
skillfully and thoughtfully
I know I should reject
the words weaved
from their crooked tongues
tangled
and spun
from the incincerated
ashes of the fallen ones.
when they say, I should no
longer trust You.
that You only openly mock me
in prayer,
that my tears You do not
see
that You are indifferent.
to my struggles
their bizarre voices
rise up in a cacophony
of death
I don’t know their names
that is unimportant
they wrestle for audience
in me

misfit1965copyright2010

Pilgrims

I don’t know if we shall ever see them again,
or contemplate where they are
The souls who passed through the earth as pilgrims
lay in the dirt,
famous once,
powerful once
but the breath that drove them
has expired

The sands of life shift so fast
in trying to grasp,
we sink
in attempting to possess
the gravity of death
Imagining death to be a journey
of a fall that never ends
A careless wave that rushes back into the sea,
is life taken from us
grasping the sand of life between our toes,
a grain of what we were
the blame we may have laid on others
the kisses and the joy leaping
days too quickly
a rainstorm
a flash of lightening,
with the eye,
our lives die before us,

I did not keep track of death.
But death is a debt we must pay

When God promised the first man
To dust you shall return

But the hope for immortality
is a knife in the heart
to some

So many have gone before
where I shall be someday
The days lead me there
quietly I follow
The minutes fly to that hour
like the string of a beautiful
kite
slipping through tired fingers
running until I am out of breath,
chasing myself
until heartbeats become less
frequent
and silence loudly screams

I don’t remember when youth danced away
as if there were no beginning nor end,
only God’s voice

When I pray I am not afraid,
Your whisper reminds
I am never alone

But there is this business of death
through this wildnerness
and Fear could not be flushed

Open the doors, to Eternity,
that lives past this life.

Those who hoped in Jesus Christ, those who knew He was the Way, The Truth, and The Life have joined Him in Glory.

The smile on the lips we could not witness,
as they were on the threshold, dying,
clinging to a life as they say,
“no longer wants them.”
Life gives us a bloody kick when it is done with us,
Oh, but Jesus is never done with us,
every false god we may make prayers to,
money even,
Throw dollars into an empty pit,
saturate it with paper only to burn
Not even one farthing, can we steal into the next
life,
Don’t cry, don’t love this life, don’t worship it.
It is only temporary.

misfit1965
(image not mine)

The Value of Time

As we hurry through this delicate mechanism
of living
the shifting gears of time,
we walk the dirt floors
fighting for its value,
disparaging the souls of others
losing its meaning

As our century and civilizations pass through
the watchful judgment of God,
we blink to see it has eroded with all
of its progress,
life is still very cheap
a culture that clings to death
while yet fearing it.

capricious, we lack wisdom
guided by blind leaders
since God opened the eyes of time
and set the Hourglass.

Age has worn the binding we wear
the yellowing years fade us a little more
even if we erase the lines around our eyes
and mouths
age has claimed us with the grip of death
attached to it.

we begin to wind down at different times
as our children are taken from us

the chapters of our families are quickly ending
the words are falling off the pages already
let’s give each other last hugs,
quiet and meaningful

let’s pass our hearts on so we don’t forget
slip your hand into mine while its still warm
before we forget and memories wind down
before the curtain is drawn, let’s say
our thank-you’s and good-byes
let me say I love you, while God gives me
breath
let me feed the lonely with a smile
and the joy of just this moment.

misfit1965
(image not mine)

The enemy is death

Death is not nostalgic,
Death is the destroyer
keeping us from God

Death is not an enigma,
but a lie cloaked in pride

Death is not a peaceful slumber
but the devil’s venom,
don’t die, without the One
who defeated death,
don’t live, without falling
before the Feet of the Majestic
One called Jesus.

Death does not purpose in
reuniting one’s loved ones,

It is to finally come Home
to where we belong

Death severs the ties
of here and now,
Death is not an old uncle
nor is it a lover
the last kiss of a clinging
desperation
left upon
the lips of the dying.

Death holds no esteem
for the living,
There is no Reverance for Life
as embryo and old men
as wars have killed
and men have murdered
women and teen

no struggle to survive
it is to have fallen
into a spider’s web for some
into an eternal abyss,

There is no immortality
without God
no higher power
to do our bidding
to cheat death
There is Judgment
A Throne,
A Living God

Souls rise up
to understand
that there is a Second Death
more permanent than the first
but deserved

More deserved than
the former.

The First Death
takes our flesh
(but not our souls)
Not always with Justice

The Dead do not speak,
The Dead do not know

The Living truly know
Life is a Gift
not a tease of the senses
nor a gluttony of pleasure

We Live To Meet Our Maker
If only this life you have Hope

The Dead neither know
nor judge
nor hope,
they are dead.
Dead in flesh
that is corrupted
and passions
that are useless

Living in the corpse
of their sins

(Jesus Christ overcame death
HE IS THE propitiation
HE DIED ONCE AND FOR ALL
death has no meaning
to the follower of Christ
death has no power
to the one who has faith)

The Dead do not Speak
nor reason
having returned
to the dark dirt
of the earth

Suicide is not a lover

nor is death a friend
to be embraced,
but an enemy to be vanquished.

misfit1965
(image not mine)