Ichabod
After reading the first 7 chapters of 1 Samuel, I was inspired to write this little poem.
After reading the first 7 chapters of 1 Samuel, I was inspired to write this little poem.
Heavy is my heart this night. I cannot put the words right. Sighing...Groaning... Joy comes in the morning, but now... A burden lies in my chest. A weight of ache and unrest. Shallow...breathing... None but my Father see me. "Lord, You know my anxious thoughts! O, put this right at all costs!" Speechless...gasping... It feels like nothing's happening.
Normalness in the Christian life is often bitter, often sweet. Failure and success often hinge on motivation.
"He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved." — Ephesians 1:5-6
We live our lives through the eyes of a story man He knows the price of this race that has caused us pain
Bitter age gives way to glory, but we live in this present bitter age and it has tainted me, and probably you too.
Ten years ago I looked like Rambo, or Briggs from Lethal Weapon (no that's not a wig!). I was the masked hypocrite guilty of pornea, filled with curses, bitterness, and prayer, seeking my glory as the chief end of all things, a creature at the center of concentric rings, none with room for the King of
I went back and listened to a band that I used to idolize in high school. This inspired me to write this poem making clear references to that band.
A dewdrop sparkles in the grass Jeweled lady clothed in light Sent from heaven to capture sight A diamond washed in liquid glass
How close would you want to get to understanding the full depravity of the son of destruction? This is as close as I dared go.