6/17/18 Through 6/23/18

6/17/18 Through 6/23/18

Sunday

This tender shoot, this mustard seed

The Lord provides their every need

Sufficient light and gentle rain

His love aright in spite of pain

By parable He shows the way

That speaks to us and molds the clay

Outstanding draft, commanding height

His chosen craft to shine the light

Each story brings a message clear

That otherwise we wouldn't hear

And every time we ponder well

His love sublime, within will dwell.

Monday

Your way, it seems so strange to me

That I should let the evil be

And not resist its clear advance, 

But take a simply passive stance.

I want my justice here and now

I want to make things right somehow

I can't sit back and let them win,

I have to work and conquer sin!

But who then, comes to conquer me

When I, so righteous, pose to be?

Who puts me in my proper place

Of rightful shame and due disgrace?

For only You are righteous Lord

And only You can judge this hoard

Perhaps if I would not defend

There'd be less judgment on my end.

Perhaps allowing anger spent,

In shame the evil would repent.

Perhaps in giving all I own

Much clearer I would make You known.

Tuesday

Elijah loved enough to say

You're following an evil way

Revealing to the wayward one

The wickedness that he had done.

Our love must too, run deep enough

That those in danger we rebuff

And lead in all humility

That they might see with clarity.

Wednesday

Seeing what Elijah had 

Elisha went all in

He wanted not some cloak to clad

A chilly mortal skin.

But a spirit strong and bold

A double portion too

Far greater gift than finest gold

Far better to accrue.

Thursday

Attune you ears to hear His voice

Amidst the gentle breeze

Tune out the loud distracting noise,

And listen if you please.

Then you'll receive your daily bread

Conversing with the Lord,

And find yourself to be well fed

With mercy there outpoured.

Forgiveness found as you forgive

In shame admitting guilt

In love the way we need to live

So harmony is built.

Friday

How foolish one who treasures

This transitory state. 

With rust and mold who measures

The things considered great.

For in this world of entropy

Where all decays in time

You'd think, of course, that we would see

A better path to climb.

But narrow is that better way

And rocky is that road

Much easier to go astray

And kick against the goad.

One thing alone remains at last

When all has passed away

No rust or mold could e're surpass

The gift of love each day

So don't be fooled by glittering 

Of temporary gain.

Love's steady glow a better thing

But comes not without pain.

Saturday

Each day I ask a little more

And He responds in time

Not knowing what He has in store

With each new little rhyme.

A trust to give the daily bread

I need so desperately

Each time I find that I am fed,

But how's a mystery

The One who knows all that I need

Says, worry, cast away.

Just listen well and I will feed

Your spirit every day.