Eyes That See

“I Once Was Blind”

“The Joys of Motherhood” (Poetry)

From this corner office my mind drifts away,
To a beautiful, sun-soaked, summer day.
This was the day when my daughter first smiled,
And tears filled my eyes as I held my child.
And when she smiled, how my heart erupted;
Those blue eyes twinkled, oh how I loved it!

Then comes the thought of my daughter’s first step,
Just one step, then she fell, but my heart leapt!
With loving arms, I scooped up my baby,
Twirled around the room with my little lady.
Her steps had numbered a million shortly,
But the first was the best, at least for me.

And bittersweet was her first day of school.
I was so worried that she would be cool.
I thought she would have one or the other-
Either excitement or tears for her mother.
Somehow both she was able to manage,
As through the tears she had such courage.

In her wedding gown as she walked the aisle,
And lighted the church with her lovely smile-
She looked through tears to his eyes, said, “I do,”
And, “to you, my love, I’ll always be true.”
This day is better than all of the rest,
Her wedding day is the one I love best!

I thought that giving birth would my life end,
But I’ve been haunted by what might have been.
I traded real life for another sort,
Joy for regret when I chose to abort.
My life ended along with hers it seems,
These joys of motherhood are only dreams.

O what a wretched choice I made that day,
I would undo it if there were a way.
If I could go back, to term I would carry,
So my baby could smile, walk, learn, and marry.
In singleness and career, there is no good
That could compare to the joys of motherhood.

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May 28, 2009 Posted by | Poetry | | 9 Comments

“My Treacherous Heart” (Poetry)

My treacherous heart, some friend you have been;
Like Brutus and Judas through thick and thin.
Rejoicing in small things, complacent in great;
You’d have me in hell if you held my fate.

I once got free tickets in the second row,
To watch the Houston Rockets put on a show.
I told all my coworkers this good news,
But failed to tell them of the King of the Jews.

I once met the loveliest young lady,
Whose allure, charm, and beauty constrained me.
If Helen’s face launched a thousand ships, then
The face of this maiden could launch a million.

Nothing’s wrong with sports or lovely young ladies,
But the sin for which I deserve Hades
Is rejoicing in good things, although small,
While oft failing to in the greatest of all.

Blessed am I, for my sins are forgiven;
Greater still, eternal life I’m given.
If I but look to Christ, He’ll do the rest,
And save me from this traitor in my chest.

My heart overflows for tickets and a girl,
But not for Him who created the world.
If only my heart would give Christ His due,
This treacherous heart would forever be true.

May 21, 2009 Posted by | Poetry | | 2 Comments

“Psalm 1”

Psalm 1
Blessed is the man who neither walks nor stands,
Amongst men with wicked and sinful hands.
Nor does he sit in the seat of scoffers,
He delights in God’s law and its offers.
He meditates on the Word day and night,
With heart, mind, soul, and strength; hearing and sight.

He is like a tree planted by a stream,
Its abundant fruit is sweet as a dream.
It acts as trees ought, yields fruit when it should.
Its leaf doesn’t wither, no rot in its wood.
His justice will lead to prosperity,
But wind drives the chaff of iniquity.

Judgment is sure, and the wicked won’t stand,
From the righteous, all sinners will be banned.
“for the Lord knows the way of the righteous,
But the way of the wicked will perish.”
Not one is righteous, so condemned we stand,
Unless we’re forgiven by nail-scarred hands.

Do not let the serpent lie and decieve,
In love, obey and repent and believe.
Christ is the way and the truth and the life,
He will be there for your struggles and strife.
In these wondrous truths, let our hearts rejoice,
Let His sheep hear and know their Shepherd’s voice.

Cursed ’cause of our wicked and sinful ways,
Under the wrath of the Ancient of Days.
“Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree.”
Christ became a curse for you and for me.
By Jesus alone may we be set free,
Then Psalm 1 women and men we shall be.

July 22, 2008 Posted by | Christ, Poetry | 3 Comments

“Come and Make Known Your Name!”

Oh come, Lord Jesus, and make known Your name!
May it be in heaven and earth the same!
When Your name is proclaimed on earth I pray,
Every knee would bow, every mouth would say:

“Come, Lord Jesus, take Your power and reign,
Because worthy is the Lamb who was slain!
By Your sinless blood You purchased Your throne,
And became a curse to call us Your own.”

May men, like the heavens and earth, obey.
Your will be done instead of ours, we pray.
May men, like angels, bow down before You.
May kings and princes praise and adore You.

Give us today Your bread of life, oh King,
And of Your grace, love, and power we’ll sing.
Lead us not into temptation, our Lord,
Keep us from evil by Your Word, our sword.

Forgive us of our many sins and debts,
For we’ve all fallen short and have regrets.
We will forgive those who have wronged us, too,
And mirror Your mercy out of love for You.

For kingdom, power, and glory are Yours,
Although this truth our sinful flesh abhors.
Spirit come upon us and do Your will,
For by Your power we can climb the hill.

Let us go to our King, outside the camp,
On Golgotha’s hill we’ll shine like a lamp.
Beside Him we’ll stand, despising the scorn.
Give us all a cross and a crown of thorns!

May 8, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | 2 Comments

“I’m Gonna Start a Church and Preach”

I’m gonna start a church and preach,
Although I’m not ready to teach.
Much more training would be preferred,
Before I tried to preach the Word.

But that’s okay, it’ll come with time.
Who needs the Word? I will be fine.
I’ll tune my public speaking skills,
And I will learn how to close deals.

If you want decisions for Jesus,
I’m just the man fit to lead us.
If they don’t like Him, I’ll change Him,
Bend and sculpt and rearrange Him.

Or better, I’ll just leave Him out,
Then they will like Him, there’s no doubt.
I’ll tell them God wants them to be
Happy, healthy, and rich like me.

You left your wife for this one, sir?
God loves you both, both you and her.
Ma’am, you say your husband left you?
You should not let that upset you.

You were raped? Well don’t get mad,
Cause God wants us all to be glad.
God wants us happy, don’t you see?
He wants us happy, you and me.

What’s that? You say that can’t be true?
Cause all God does is make you blue?
Your problem, then, is faith you lack.
Have more faith and you’ll get on track.

If you but have great faith like mine,
You’ll see the blessings in no time.
This is what we’ll tell the people,
We’ll have thousands under our steeple.

Cause this will work, just give it time.
What I don’t know I’ll find online-
Just go to Google and hit “search,”
I don’t need God to build a church.

March 31, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | 2 Comments

“The American Dream”

Pharaoh and Herod blew their battle horns,
Not against men, but against the newborns.
Tragedy, yes, but today we would say:
“Pharaoh, Herod, you guys waited too late!”

For if you kill newborn babies, you’re jerks.
But us, we’ve evolved, just look at the perks.
We kill our babies before they can scream,
So we can live the American dream.

“Ma’am, your boss gripes ’bout maternity leave?
Well ‘it’s’ just an ‘it,’ no reason to grieve.
You’ll go under the knife one afternoon,
Then back to your life, ‘it’s’ over so soon.”

I have a thought I’d like to consider:
Moses put his staff in the Nile river,
And the water turned to blood all around.
Could it be that the blood rose from the ground?

Could this be the same blood from years before,
When upon male babies Pharaoh made war?
If that is the case, what about us then?
For we have killed Forty-seven million!

What if the blood of those babies would rise,
And red cover earth like blue covers skies?
Or must we have hard hearts like the Pharaoh,
Until God releases His due arrow?

For the bow is ready and the string is taut,
And the Hunter is just to shoot or not.
The blood of those babies is on our hands,
And in His eyes their blood covers our lands.

March 28, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | 1 Comment

“It Was For Joy That You Died For Me”

There was no joy for naked eye to see,
But it was for joy that You died for me*.

You asked Your Father if the cup could pass**,
But since it could not, You drank the whole glass.
For I sowed the seeds, plucked the grapes of sin,
And the wine of God’s wrath filled to the brim.
One drop of His wrath would send me below,
But to my cross in my stead You did go.

First You were flogged by a Roman soldier,
Then took Your own cross upon Your shoulder.
Then came the nails through Your wrists and Your feet.
Screams as the nails pierced nerves in agony.
Forced to push up on nail with bone for breath,
Until You last breathed and attained death.
For the Light came into the world, but men-
Being wicked and preferring their sin***-
Chose to snuff out the Light and save a thief.
Suppressing the truth****, forsaking relief.

So where is the joy in the rugged cross?
Where is victory in apparent loss?
To reconcile sinners with God above,
You laid down your life, there’s no greater love.
Your joy was in loving sinners like me,
And conquering death on Calvary’s tree.

There was no joy for naked eye to see,
But it was for joy that you died for me.

*Hebrews 12:2
**Matthew 26:39
***John 3:19
****Romans 1:18

March 26, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | Leave a comment

“From Virgin’s Womb to Empty Tomb”

Just as spectacular as virgin’s womb,
Was the way You left us with empty tomb.
Just as “natural” birth did not apply,
With the rules of death You did not comply.

March 19, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | Leave a comment

“That Fatal Hour”

I have sinned against You a million times,
Treated streets of gold like nickels and dimes.
I cower in fear of that fatal hour,
When I am before your might and power.

“I’m better than most, not as bad as some,”
Would be an argument quickly undone.
For your omniscient eyes see all I do,
You’ve seen my lust, pride, and selfishness too.

At my best, I fall short of Your glory,
And my worst, well that’s another story.
Jesus said I’m to be perfect like You,
So condemnation is all that I’m due.

For if perfection is what you require,
I deserve no less than eternal fire.
The devil is waiting, with flames gaping,
On my own there’s no way of escaping.

I bow at Your throne, acknowledge Your reign,
But Your perfection I cannot attain.
But just as with Isaac and Abraham,
You asked a lot, but provided a ram.

And like the Exodus passover story,
Where You built Pharaoh up to show Your glory,
When You promised death to every firstborn,
Unless with lamb’s blood their door was adorned.

For Your perfection, You gave me a Ram,
And saved my soul with the blood of the Lamb.
Though guilty as all before Your throne,
In Your great mercy, You call me Your own.

March 11, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | 1 Comment

“Yet You Have Not Returned to Me”

My prophets I sent; You did not believe.
By satan’s lies, you have been deceived.
You slave to sin! I’ll set you free!
Yet you have not returned to Me.

What is a calf, in comparison?
I’ll be your Father, you’ll be my son.
Would you wallow in idolatry?
Yet you have not returned to Me.

The wicked wail, the righteous rejoice.
Look at the blessed who hear my voice.
Hear for yourself; with your eyes you see!
Yet you have not returned to Me.

What more can I do from here above?
What can I do to show you my love?
I sent you My Son on Calvary!
Yet you have not returned to Me.

March 7, 2008 Posted by | Poetry | 1 Comment