The Release

Moving in power, moving in might

Walking by faith and not by sight

Trusting ever on the strength of the Lord

Looking to Him to open the doors

Touching the feeble, strengthening the faint

Not one too small and not one too quaint

Annointed to proclaim great liberty

Annointed to release great jubilee

Broken-in hands that tend to the task

Broken-in hearts that are made to hold fast

Hearts that will cradle those lost to deep pain

Hands that will mend, the removers of stains

A church forged in heaven before expression on earth

A church conceived and waiting for birth,

A people called out– forgiven and free

A people prepared to reach destiny

Shepherds hewn from the spiritual clay

Of the sending house, the same DNA

Given to those broken and bent

Just like the heart of those who have sent.

Taken aback

I look up at you,

Expecting hard eyes to match my shame,

And a tear falls

As I gaze into love.

Easter Dinner

Is it gluttony if I’m celebrating?

Do I toast Him by driving a nail into his hands

with my fork?

Self-Portrait

A feather blowing  in the wind of God,

Fragile, yet unjudged

Warmed by the Son,

And cupped in His hand.

Traces of Gotham

 TV,

 a meal of authentic NY pizza

and creamy REAL cheesecake,

Remind me  life is fleeting and must be apprehended.

Blow

Blow, Spirit, blow

Blow afresh on me

Blow, Spirit, blow

Release my eyes to see

Blow, Spirit, blow

Break up the fallow ground

Blow, Spirit, blow

Let curses all fall down

Blow, Spirit, blow

Anoint me with your kiss,

Blow, Spirit, blow

A fire too strong to miss

Blow, Spirit, blow

Testify through me

Blow, Spirit, blow

That the world might know and see

Blow, Spirit, blow

For I am your very own

Blow, Spirit, blow

Your heart in me be sown.

Prodigals Like Us

The prodigal son was a legitimate son.

As born again Christians, we are legitimate children of our Father God.

The prodigal asked for his inheritance and went off and squandered it.

Sometimes it feels as though we are alone and running our destinies and inheritance into the ground.

The prodigal lived wildly and sinned and grew fearful of his father’s rejection.

We sin despite our best efforts and sometimes live wildly and live under a cloud of rejection of our own making.

The prodigal came to the end of himself, where he was starving and more afraid of living without his father’s help than of the possibility of his father rejecting him and treating him as a servant.

The prodigal tried to please his father upon returning home by heaping shame upon himself and offering his service.

We come to the end of ourselves and slink back to God and try to atone for our shortcomings by heaping condemnation upon ourself or by offering vows and service to God.

The father only wanted relationship and ran with joy to meet his son. He celebrated his son’s return and didn’t care about any of the rest.

Our father God wants relationship with us to the point of killing HIS OTHER KID so that He could meet us and save us and have relationship with us. It’s not that He doesn’t care about our sin. It’s that He’s already provided for it. Our groveling and begging and promising accomplish nothing. The lamb has already been slain.

God welcomes us into His presence and reminds us that our squandered inheritance really doesn’t matter because EVERYTHING HE OWNS IS ALREADY OURS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN.
And all He really wants is a relationship with us.

God teach us to accept your free gift of grace and unconditonal love.

Why I Still Go to Church

Barna’s research shows that 1 in 3 people in our nation today are unchurched.  An unknown number of these would be considered “post-churched” or people who used to attend church but now for whatever reason no longer do.  It’s a growing trend.

We all know people who have been disillusioned or wounded by the church.  In fact, most of us in some way or another could raise our hands for that altar call.  Whereever 2 or more are gathered in His name, there’s going to be conflict.  It’s inevitable. 

But, I believe the church is still where it’s at and here’s why.

1-There is a presence of God in the coroporate gathering that’s unique.

God shows up when we gather together.  It’s not that we can’t experience a measure of His presence privately.  But He’s promised to be in our midst when we gather and He undeniably is true to that word.

2-When the body of Christ works like it’s supposed to, it’s really really good.

I’m in a church which functions the way it should.  The leaders conciously and intentionally pour love and acceptance into the sheep.  As a result, the sheep have taken on the heart of the leaders and pour love and acceptance into one another. 

In this atmosphere, lives are radically changed.  Body life is expressed in little ways and big ways.  It could be as simple as someone offering to take you to the airport at 5:00 in the morning.  It could be as big as folks close to you decding in secret to make over your entire house and then raising the money themselves to do it and doing all the work themselves.  It is as simple as loving one another’s children and being genuinely interested in them as real people.  It’s as big as helping a single mom buy her own home or put her daughter thru college.  It’s as little as taking someone’s shift in the nursery.  It’s as big as listening to someone’s deepest and scariest self-revelation and looking them in the eye and telling them, “I still love you.  Nothing has changed.”

When community works like this—people start being freed of bondages, people start accepting themselves, people stop judging so harshly because they are no longer being judged.  Lives are radically changed.

That doesn’t happen when you’re sitting at home by yourself reading the Bible.  It just doesn’t.

3-God speaks thru the angels of His houses

In Revelation, God refers to pastors as the angels of the local assemblies

Like it or not, God has an authority system set up.  He speaks thru His pastors.  They carry with them an authority that others do not.  They have the mind and heart of God for their assembly.  To go it alone is to miss out on an impartation specific to a local church.  It’s too good to go without.

4-God set up the church and Jesus is the head

A body can’t function apart from it’s head.  Jesus is the head of the church.  If your’re not a part of the organized functioning church, you’re not connected to the head.  Disconnected parts die.  There’s no life apart from the body. 
If you’re reading this, are a believer, and stopped going to church, I understand that tendency.  I went through a period in my life when I wanted more than anything to drop out of church.  The body had hurt me, pastors had hurt me, and life was tough. 

But pushing through that, finding a place of forgiveness, and finding those who would pour grace into me has made the difference in my life.  Churches which work are out there.

It’s worth it to stay in the game and find one that works.

The Release

Like a phoenix,

the mighty, mighty phoneix,

I turn

and give myself new permission to soar.

Little Girl Lying in her Bed (not autobiographical!)

Little girl lying in her bed,

Wondering what went wrong, angry thoughts in head,

Thinking, ‘Why did Daddy hurt me so?’

And where’s the loving God that  I used to know?

 

Years later, running wild

Confused, broken teenage child

Crying, “When will God be real again?

And when will my healing begin?”

 

Middle-aged woman in her prime,

Serving God but still hurt inside

Jehovah-Shammah whispers near,

“I’m the God who is and I AM HERE.”

 

“I was there in the darkness at your side.

When your daddy left, oh I watched you cry.

And I kept your heart from breaking more,

And I kept you for your destiny in store.”

 

“I was there when you in your anger ran.

There when you refused to hold my hand.

And I kept the evil forces at bay,

So you’d be safe for another day.”

 

The little girl took the Father’s hand,

The teenage child began to understand,

And the middle-aged woman in her prime,

Realized God was there all the time.

 

Jehovah Shammah loves you too.

He’ll heal your past and take you through,

Till the child in you knows His Father’s heart

And then you’ll have a fresh new start.

When I Look at You (A worship song)

Chorus:     When I look at you,

                  You are all I want

                  When I gaze at you,

                   You are all I desire

                   And the love that comes,

                   It encompasses my soul

                   And I am yours.

 

Verse 1:    Nothing I have compares to you

                 All that I am is because of you

                 You have given your life for me

                 And I’m eternally free

                 And I just have to say . . .

 

Verse 2:     In you I have found my soul complete

                   My heart finds it’s rest at your feet

                   As my burdens fall away

                   At your throne I lay

                   All my crowns and all my  fears . . .

 

Verse 3:     The things I used to love seem so dim

                   I’ve lost my love of self to love of Him

                   And when He looks upon my face

                   I’m simply overwhelmed by grace

                  And on my knees, I bow and sing . . .

Luis

                I never understood why Ana, our housemother, told us to be careful of Luis.  Nor did I understand why my friend Kim would parrot these words to me anytime he would come up in conversation.

            For those of us living in the host home in Guatemala, Luis was simply “that shoeshine boy” or even “you know, that boy.”  We all knew who “that boy” was.  We passed him sitting on the stoop of La Merced every day on our way to language school.

            I didn’t understand my friends’ precautions because after teaching four years in the South Bronx, no young hand-kissing, por-favor-buy-me-a-Pepsi-saying, mentally challenged teenage boy could pose a threat to me.

            I loved to stop and chat with him, practicing my fledgling Spanish on him as he practiced his beginning English on me., saying carefully constructed pointed sentences such as, “HOW-ARE-YOU-MY-LOVE?” and kissing my hand, asking me to sit awhile and linger so he could read to me the sentences he had been copying and learning to read.  I never saw the harm in being near Luis. 

            Then, one moment in time, that will forever be landscaped in my inner eye, I saw a different Luis.  That day, as I made my way home from a café where I had sat eating my plate of papa fritas amidst a sea of stranger faces.  That day—

            I saw Luis away from his usual corner.  He was standing in the middle of the street, a hugantic boulder clutched under each arm.  Across from him stood an annoying mosquito of a man who had obviously unfairly provoked him.  Luis, unsure of the growing emotion inside looked ready to pounce.

            Around him a sea of people awaited his movements while the object of his wrath at times provoked him and at times attempted to pass. The boy vacillated between the choice of saving face through open aggression or backing down and staying alive, his face contorting as his body rocked back and forth considering his options.

            The boy, in the eyes of the crowd, was beloved in an awkward sort of way and they stood watch over him to make sure he did not get hurt.  But to him in the intensity of the moment, the crowd was hostile—it turned him inward on himself and made him feel as though he must finish what had been started.

            I too, know that feeling—that loathsome feeling of being watched, observed, and thereby judged.  Feeling all the world has stopped and awaits your movements—ready to render judgment whichever way you choose.  That turning inward on yourself which forces out of the imagination the possibility that the faces which appear so hostile might actually be friendly. 

            In that moment of vacillation, a stranger stepped up and gently removed the rocks from underneath Luis’s arms, pulling him gently to the side away from the gaze of the crowd. 

            I hope that in my moments, my strangers will rescue me the way his did him that day, removing the rocks of self-doubt from my demeanor, with which I’ll crush myself, if left alone.

The Root

A bitter root went deep,
It spread it’s tangled net,
My heart it tried to reap,
To pay it’s fearsome debt.

It spread it’s tangled net,
Into the angry soil, my heart
To pay it’s fearsome debt,
To break friendship apart.

Into the angry soil, my heart–
Roots multiplied and grew.
To break friendship apart,
And never to renew.

Roots multiplied and grew–
I could not make them stop.
And never to renew,
Roots grew into a crop.

I could not make them stop
Alone, although I tried.
Roots grew into a crop–
And hopeless? Sat and cried.

Alone, although I tried,
I needed El Echad.
And hopeless, sat and cried
Out to the one true God.

I needed El Echad–
To unroot the very seed,
Out to the one true God?
My broken heart did bleed.

To unroot the very seed,
El Elchad destroyed a lie.
My broken heart did bleed…
But FREEDOM, grace did buy!

El Elchad destroyed a lie,
Bitterness is no more,
And freedom grace did buy,
A better harvest is in store.

Bitterness is no more!
My heart it tried to reap,
A better harvest is in store,
A bitter root went deep.

Captured by the Essence of His Love

*Written for a conference–I was given the title and asked to write a poem matching it.

 

Your grace upon the cross I see,
A Saviour’s heart who died for me,
Your covenant love amazes me,
Captured by the essence of Your love.

Your care for me like no one can,
You encircle me, you hold my hand.
When I am weak, you help me stand,
Captured by the essence of Your love.

Our gentle times together strong,
Our whispers beckon all night long,
We awaken with a song,
Captured by the essence of Your love.

Dear One, I’m so in love with You,
Our love divine and our devotion true,
Though men may scoff, and men may rue,
Captured by the essence of Your love.

Come, belov’d enthrone yourself,
My heart belongs to no one else.
My will gives way, I’m yours alone.
Captured by the essence of Your love.

Forever, I belong to you,
Not my own, bought through and through,
Bowing down, I worship you
Captured by the essence of Your love.

I’m captured,
Captured,
Captured by the essence of Your love.

Dreams

*I’m 85% sure I authored this. If anyone finds evidence to the contrary, please let me know.

The dreams that God has placed in my heart,
Dark clouds and rain cannot make depart,
He’s planted them deep and caused them to grow,
And He’ll keep them safe through winter’s deep snow,
So all through the night, I’ll hold on to them still.
Knowing in morning, I’ll see them fulfilled.
So all praise to my Jesus,
And all praise to my Lord,
The dreams He has given,
He’ll help me afford.

The Ballad of Daniel & Gisselle

For Danny & Gisselle Bonilla, my former pastors and forever dear ones, on the occasion of their 25th wedding anniversary:

 

Two silver trumpets in the hand of God,
Destined in eternity past,
Two lives made one to ring out
The cry of redemption to the masses.

The story begins when at age 12
The two at first did meet.
He loved her first and told her so
To the sound of horses feet.

The timing of their God delayed,
Gisselle returned to home.
God had a mighty work to do
To bring them to His throne.

Gisselle was raised to know the Lord
But strayed some in her youth,
A conference where she bent her knee
Returned her to the truth.

Daniel knelt and met his Lord
Upon the streets of old San Juan,
Delivered from the grips of vice,
God’s spirit rained down hard.

Seven months into his ministry,
The child he knew returned,
But she was now a woman–
And stricken, they did swoon.

For her, it was his gentleness
And soft-spoken easy ways,
For him, it was the sweetness
Of her look, her heart, her way . . .

On Christmas Day, they pledged their love,
He engaged her with a ring,
They soon were wed, God’s word fulfilled
In finding a good thing!

The years have passed, Sweet Destiny
Has had her way in them.
A church, a call, a family
And bigger things ahead.

25 years of love and marriage
25 years of serving
For this example of Christ and His church,
Our sincere affirmation deserving.

Two silver trumpets in the hand of God
Destined from eternity past
Two lives made one: they ring out the cry
Real love is made to last.

Your Gifts: A Poem for Cyrus Martinez

*This was written for Cyrus Martinez (Grandson of Danny and Gisselle Bonilla) in the first few months of his life, when he was struggling to live.

Cyrus, Prince, Annointed one,

Royal God means royal son,

Kings and priest surround your bed,

Earthen vessels, Godly led.

 

Born into a Godly line,

Destiny you’ve yet to find.

From your kindred, take your cue,

From your family, find your clue.

 

Grandpa, Grandma share their power,

Faith through each and every hour–

Every trial which laid them bare . . .

Gifts in them a strength to share.

 

Mom and Dad’s exploding faith,

Rocked the grave and saved a fate,

Kept through illness, sickness, pain

Faith they give for you to gain.

 

Maverick gifts a joy in praise,

Barak like lightning’s voice to raise,

HEAR THESE PROPHETS, HEAR THEM WELL,

 OH SON! PUSH BACK THE GATES OF HELL!

 

 Fill your lungs and let them breathe,

Find in your God your strength and ease,

Rise up like Joshua of old,

See not the giants, but the gold,

Fight for family, fight for God

That we might see His might retold.

 

And when you grow and when you age,

It be said, “He finished the page,

 He ran the race set for him to run,

A kingly man, a royal son.”

Haiku Salad

Flowers in the park,
I really want to pick them
For a spring bouquet.

Balmy breezes blow,
Palm trees drop their coconuts.
Paradise to me.

Bullhead fishing fun,
Childhood in Alaskan sun,
Hours baiting prey.

I Am Thankful

I am thankful for the colors in the multi-colored sea,
I am thankful for the breezes which sweep across to me,
I am thankful for the trials which teach me You are there,
I am thankful for the songs which hold me in Your care,
I am thankful for Your family, which You have made my own,
I am thankful for Your promises, and feet which cannot roam,
For all these things I’m grateful,
For these things I give thanks,
But most of all for Your son’s love,
And leaving heaven’s ranks–
And dying so that I might live,
A sinner wretched thru,
My dear one, I say thanks again
Oh, thanks so much to You . . .

The Lonely Poet is In

Please write comments when you visit.