Reflections From the Heart: A Collection of Poems

July 2013

I have a problem with people who think they know you all too well

With the preachers who say "go to church or go to hell"

Well my God said to pursue Christ for a relationship never ending

To follow a God all forgiving

That's what I need

Not a religion that requires perfection

Cause I don't have it

Just believe in the resurrection

That Jesus' death was to buy back a soul so far gone, only perfect blood could save

Only because God gave

He didn't give a fancy building full of people wearing hypocrite masks for the weekend, just to live the way they want the next day

Jesus is the only way

He said pick up the cross and follow Him EVERYDAY

I'd chose God over church any day

A relationship over religion

A Christian is not a sinner in disguise

A Christian is a sinner that's alive

So, live everyday carrying the cross

And chose God over religion

Like God chose the cross for us

April 2015

-Remember that horse I painted in 2008?

It was dreadful, but you said it was great. 

You said, "this horse is strong like you"

"Whatever the trial, I know you'll get through."

Your words built me up and they made me feel strong.  

But my strength, it wouldn't last long. 

-Remember that dress I wore in 2014?

To be honest, I'm shocked I liked something so green. 

You asked if I made it and I said no. 

You said, "well you could, didn't you know"

"You can do anything that you put your mind to"

Your words built me up and they helped me get through. 

Cause the next few days felt like hell. 

But it is well.  

-Remember that car I drive in 2015?

Up that country dirt road that was dirty and lean. 

The cemetery is beautiful, beautiful and free. 

Oh grandma, you're the woman I want to be. 

You taught me to work hard and how to dream. 

You taught me how to handle this family and NOT to scream. 

But right now, I'll just sit with the grass and leaves.  

And with the Jesus you taught me would never leave.  

January 2015

Here is my face
Behind a filter, I hide
I'm so scared, and don't know why
Am I ugly, am I beautiful?
Let me ask the world this question
Whatever you say, I'll still feel sick
No amount of human acceptance will ever fill my void
The love I seek can't come from man
It comes from my only joy
Too hard to believe, it seems sometimes
But that doesn't change the truth
This love comes from the Father
For He can and will save my youth

August 2015

•What is wrong with me?
•Why am I so far behind?
•I can hardly see.
•Why are you so hard to find?
•Is it true what they say?
•"All the good ones get lost"
•I think this is the way.
•Who knew this would be the cost?
•I'm in love with someone I've never met.
•It's tearing me apart.
•You don't know me yet.
•But you're already apart of my heart.
•I'm still trying to cope.
•My lines have already been crossed.
•God, you're my only hope.
•All the good ones get lost.

December 2015

She was drenched in rain,

Or was it tears?

Harmful thoughts flooded her brain. 

She was drowning in her fears.

She cried out. 

At this point, it was all she could do. 

"God, I can't see past my fear and doubt."

She needs Him to pull her through. 

She is filled with blessed assurance. 

This battle has been claimed. 

Amazed by her Father's radiance,

She feels her fears are tamed. 

She is an ambassador.  

Her "plan" is Christ's alone, 

And His plan is spectacular. 

She is saved because He heard her groan. 

Written by Emily, The Colony, TX

Emily is pictured on the right.

The Rusted Bench

The Rusted Bench

-a short story

  It was a cold and windy November day as I watched her slowly walk to the rusted bench and sit down. She sat there silently, wisps of her silvery, gray hair blowing across her once beautiful but now aged face, her hands in her lap protectively covering what appeared to be a much worn black leather-bound Bible. Every day she would come and every day she would sit on that same bench in the same spot for hours, exactly as she sat now. No one ever came with her and she never talked to anyone who passed by. Perhaps to some she was just an old woman who kept to herself, but to me she seemed a lonely soul who had lived a long, hard life and who had had no one lend her an attentive

ear or a gentle touch for a long time if ever. I began to feel sorry for the woman, inventing stories in my imaginative mind of unbearable loss and endless lonely days and nights. And so, I decided to go speak to her and offer her a friendship which I thought she desperately needed, and perhaps I needed as well, even if I didn’t realize it. 

It took me days to carve out enough time to actually make it out the door of my one-bedroom apartment, much less across the street to the bench where the woman sat. I spent several minutes starting out across the street in a steadfast manner only to turn right back around and back inside when my cell phone started to ring. Not only did I feel like my life was too busy at the moment to make time to speak to this possibly new acquaintance, I was also feeling foolish for thinking that I could conceivably have any advice or wisdom to give this aged person. But, I refused to give up. Something inside was urging me to make contact with her, and so I walked out the door, took a deep breath and crossed the street, heading straight in the direction of the rusted bench. With two more steps to go I felt my phone vibrate, and instead of stopping and sitting on the bench, I just walked right past, checking the message that had just come in. This ridiculous routine continued for a week or more until I finally decided to direct message some of my neighbors and ask if they had any idea who she was. Of course they all had basically the same information: she was just a lonely old woman who came and sat on the bench all day. She never came with anyone and she never brought anything with her besides that worn out Bible. Apparently she had been doing this for years and none of them had ever even thought about going up to her. “She looks content to me,” one woman said. “Besides, I’m much too busy for idle chit chat. I’ve got places to be, things to do.” I mentioned that I was thinking about speaking to her and they chastised me saying, “Why bother an old woman?” and “Old people prefer to be by themselves. They don’t appreciate it when you disturb them.” So, deciding all my effort had been futile, I gave up my footed pursuit of the woman and sat watching her from the window as before, cell phone in hand.

  November turned into December bringing with it freezing rain. I didn’t see the woman much anymore as the weather wasn’t permitting and I worried about her daily. Never having seen her with anyone, I was concerned for her health and apprehensive that she may be freezing to death in poor living conditions. I began to think that my opportunity to see what this mysterious woman was all about was gone, until one day the sun decided to peak out from behind the clouds and warm us up for a bit. I sat, waiting expectantly at my window, eager to see her, internet browser open to YouTube. Just as I was beginning to

lose hope, there she was. She slowly ambled to the rusted bench with her Bible in hand and took a comfortable seat. Her usual solemn exterior had been replaced with softness around the eyes, and as she seemed to be staring up at my window, 
I could see what appeared to be a tiny smile play on her lips. It was almost as if she was expecting someone. My phone began to ring and as I answered it, I continued to stare through the crack in the curtains, not wanting to be seen but desperate to witness the story unfold. An hour passed, then two and with each ticking of the clock the woman’s smile faded until it was gone completely and her face resumed its usual somber appearance. Whomever she was waiting for must have been unable to make it. Another notification sounded on my phone and, feeling as though a trespasser in this woman’s sad, little life, I moved from the window and let her be. 

A few weeks passed, and as I was going out to check the mail, I glanced over to where the woman no longer sat and noticed an object lying on the bench. It was black and looked exactly like the Bible that the woman always carried. Glancing at the sky and recognizing the signs of an impending snowstorm, I crossed the street and walked to the bench, stopping for the first time ever. As I reached down and picked up the Bible I saw that the gold, foil letters on the front cover had worn away. She must have read her Bible a lot, I thought and suddenly, overcome with curiosity, I began to slowly leaf through the yellowed pages. She had made many notes and marks on the actual scripture itself, although I had never seen her open the book once in all this time. Clearly she had been reading and studying God’s word for many years before she became part of my every day. As I was nearing the end of the New Testament, a piece of newsprint fell from the pages onto the sidewalk below. It lay open at my feet and as I knelt down to pick it up, I noticed it was an obituary. It read, “Gwendolyn Louise Jenkins entered the gates of Heaven on Friday, January 8, 2016.” I glanced at my phone and noticed it was the 11^th, just 3 days after her death. I was in shock over this news and angry that I would never have the chance to know her now. If only I had a little more time… My phone made a familiar ding, but I ignored it for once and skimmed to the bottom of the page. There was a quote from her son that said, “With Jesus there is life. My mother knew this and lived to tell others about Him her entire life if only they would take a seat and listen.” It was at this moment that I realized how wrong I had been about this woman. On the outside she had seemed to me a lonely, old woman in need of a friend, but on the inside she was full of life, love and complete contentment. The real loner was me. 

I learned that day that no one is ever alone in this world unless they choose to remain alone, wrapped up in superficial relationships cultivated over Wi-Fi and social media. I realized that, while on earth, in the flesh, most human beings crave friendship and acceptance from an electronic device, which will never truly fulfill them. If people will take the time to put down the phone and recognize the importance of creating real, lasting relationships with others then the true power of friendship and community will be able to exist. 

Written by Tina, Princeton, TX 

Watch this video, which I’m sure you’ve probably already seen, and

remember to Look Up. https://youtu.be/pPQ08Sjjq1Y

Joy Comes

“Weeping may tarry for a night, but Joy comes with the morning” Ps. 30:5

In eternities past, the beginnings of creation was an intermingling of light and darkness. Darkness existed before God created. It’s as though he didn’t need to create the darkness, it already was. Scripture doesn’t say darkness was good or bad, but rather it was “formless and void" (Gen. 1:2). In the Genesis account, darkness, so it seems, was emptiness, a void of nothingness. It was here that God painted his creation on this canvass of dark obscurity.

In wisdom, God first dealt with the overriding presence of darkness before he created anything else. He didn’t cast it away or give it much attention at all. He just created light, and light simply drove it away. Once light came on the scene, darkness no longer had a presence.

His words, “Let there be light,” swirled through galaxies piercing darkness like a woodsmen's wedge. This word was an eternal word which, even today, streaks across the heavens dividing day from night. The Genesis account says, “God saw that the light was good". Anything, mind you, that drives away darkness is always good.

Even so, the Lord never removed the potential for darkness to exist. It seems that darkness has purpose too. The setting sun sends signals to our brain that it's time to rest. It’s natural for our body to recoup under the stillness of night. I rarely read or write in the evening. For me, the morning is when my rebooted system runs best. I reset in the night regaining my focus for a new day. When I’m working on a project I even feel a bit giddy knowing that when night has ended I get to start afresh at sunrise.

Likewise, night seasons of the soul serve a purpose, too. Tear filled nights are not wasted. Some feel that the dark night of the soul is a demonic robber of joy, and well it may be. But our God delights in turning the tables on the enemy who lured Adam into darkness in the first place. Using the ploys the enemy plans to use to sink us, the Spirit carries us into the brightest seasons we've ever known.

When clouds of despair descend upon us, it's usually nightfall we dread most. Ask the person who wrestles with depression and most likely, evening is an unwelcomed guest. This generation may be known as the one where doctors attempted to prescribe away our sorrows. We medicate our despair lest we worry and weep ourselves to death.

Even God’s people aren’t protected from life's pain. Sometimes our troubles appear no different than the common unbeliever. However, for those who put their trust in the Lord there’s always another side to life’s coin. Buried within the believer resides the hope of dawn. Beneath the ashes of pain remains a divine, flickering ember that believes somehow, someway our God shall come to us with healing in His wings.

I’ve watched many a sunrise, and the beauty of the emerging dawn is only magnified as it pushes back the darkness. A ribbon of yellow peeps over the eastern horizon and paints a beautiful portrait next to the blackened sky. The shadows of night could not stop it even if it wanted to. Just as in creation, the darkness seems vaster than the rising light. But as the fiery ball advances, it’s arms stretch forth, wraps around the earth and forces darkness to surrender. Like a diamond on black velvet, a sunrise is beautiful because of the black heavens that oppose it.

In the same way, God’s joy is the extravagant light against a backdrop of personal gloom. After a season of tears and pain, there’s the promise of joy, always in the morning after the darkness. Indeed, it comes after our mourning. If there had been no darkness God would have never created light. If there were no sadness, God would have had no need for joy. Our darkness, though difficult, serves to magnify the joy of the Lord and the joys of life itself.

Years ago a special work of grace was released in a church I served. A spirit of joy came upon us like a spring shower. One night, I watched as adults, teens and children joined together in small circles dancing with joy before the Lord. Notice I said, “I watched.” I didn’t join in. To each his own, I thought. I didn’t mind them doing it, but it wasn’t for me.

Time creates reality checks. Maybe honesty is the better word. It wasn’t for me because I was too prideful to dance before the Lord, especially in front of people. But oh, how I wanted to. But my feet just wouldn’t move. After all, what would I look like? Pretty ugly, I was sure, and not to mention, hilariously funny!

Years passed and I entered into a dark season of the soul like I had ever known. It didn’t last for weeks or months, but years. Even so, the ember within glowed beneath my ashes and kept me believing that joy would come.

Finally, morning dawned, joy returned, and this time with dancing. Well, sort of. My dancing is more of a hop. But I love how I feel and the delight I sense from God when I move before His presence. And now, I really don’t care what I look like...to anyone.

I feel kind of sorry for people who know neither joy nor sorrow. Some people think “normal” Christianity is to neither express over-the-top rejoicing nor deep depression. Sad is the believer who resides in the grayness of life. Better to experience a dark night of the soul, this way when morning breaks I will rejoice at the rising sun, rather than live in the twilight of oblivion. Give me joy or sadness, a smile or frown. But please don’t let me get stuck in the grim, numb state of straight-lipped Christianity.

For you who suffer from dark, depressive moments be encouraged. His artistic creation was splattered on a dark canvas similar to yours. He’s not threatened by your darkness. Isaiah 9:2 declares, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.” Oh, what a misfortune for you who are ashamed of your battle with darkness, for you may never perceive how light the Light can really be.

I pity the person who labors to know neither profound sorrow nor enthusiastic jubilation. The most joyful of all Christ followers are those who have walked through their pain, and after sobbing buckets of tears, greet the dawn only to discover that they, too, can dance.

But if you’re like me and can’t dance...hop man hop! 

Written by Bill, Albemarle, NC
Find out more about Bill

The Journey Home

I'm on a journey. I've been on it for quite a while now. I often don’t feel like I've gotten very far, but I know I’m making progress. It's a journey that I believe every person needs to go on, though very few do. It's the journey of an orphan back his Father’s house.

A few years back I read the book “Wild at Heart” by John Eldredge. It was then I learned about the father wound - the areas in our lives where our dads didn't give us the blessings we needed, at the critical times that we needed them. Fathers have an incredible responsibility to pass on identity to their kids, to show them they are loved unconditionally, to bestow a sense of destiny and assure them that there are unlimited resources at their disposal(in a heavenly sense)(credit to Bill Johnson for that one). When this blessing is there it is a beautiful thing. Children grow up secure and strong, able to handle anything life throws at them. When it is not it is tragic.

I recently sat with a group of young teens and talked with them about their experiences of “Dad”. Two fathers had tragically passed away. At least one had walked out on the family. One daughter had run away from home cause she couldn't deal with her parents. These stories really broke my heart and I realised again what a deeply fatherless generation is emerging. It sure makes me want to be a good father one day, so that my kids have a head start on their journeys.

Sometimes, on a very personal level, I have to wonder at the sheer magnitude of the father wound. How much of life it affects. Insecurity, fear, poor self-image, anxiety, relational problems, failure, bad decisions - these are all some of the symptoms of the father wound, and many of them have plagued me for most of my life. Basically it causes us to feel like an orphan - all alone in a harsh world left to fend for ourselves. Sound familiar?

*Picture by taylormichaelburk ift.tt/1Opgegw

But there is good news for us orphans. God is our strong, loving and engaged Father (Eldredge) and He's a perfect one at that. He's out to father our orphaned hearts, he's able to fill all the parts that are incomplete, make us into the true versions of ourselves.

But it's a journey. When an orphan gets adopted there is a lot of orphan-like thinking that needs to be broken before he starts thinking, and then living like a son.

We need to hear the Father say the things we need to hear. "You're awesome, you're amazing, son, you're so beautiful my daughter. You're enough, you're worth it."

A lot of this stuff is in the bible and when we meditate on it, we start thinking the Father's thoughts about ourselves instead of our own. We start living like sons. That's what it means to renew your mind.

I've been meditating on this pearl recently: 

"Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him for He shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders" Deuteronomy 33:12 Amazing!

The Father has a secret place for each person where we can meet him.

Someone I know recently described his like this:
"Imagine you're up on a mountain in a snowstorm, you're freezing cold and hungry. You arrive at a log cabin and hurry inside. There is a large, cozy living room with a warm fireplace and a big leather couch in front of it. The Father has brewed some fresh coffee and cooked up some of your favourite food. You sit there with Him on that big leather couch in front of the fireplace, drinking coffee and eating to your heart’s content. Here you can talk to Him about anything"

That's pretty similar to what my secret place with God looks like, other times I'm nestling in at His arm while He's on His throne.
This is the place I can hear the Father tell me who I am, and learn about all He has for me. I don't go there often enough, I actually should be living there. That’s the journey, learning to live there. It's just the orphan thinking that holds us back.

Thank goodness the Father is more committed to our journey than we are! 

“I myself said, “How gladly I would treat you like my children and give you a pleasant land, the most beautiful inheritance of any nation. I thought you would call me “Father” and not turn away from following me”  Jeremiah 3.19

“The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry "Abba Father"  Romans 8:15

Written by Ryan, Berlin, Germany

Follow more of Ryan's Journey Here

*Used in accordance with the creative commons licence: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/legalcode