Archive for ‘Poetry’

October 5, 2012

Corinthians Remix

A Musing From Corinthians…

If I can speak the eloquence of the ages

In tongues of angelic sound

But cannot hear the forlorn cry of the lonely heart

Desperate for a Word balm of kindness-

I am the worst noise of empty clash and gong

Tin, ear -ringing, cold, ego -pride fluster- in brass.

 If I can see the pathways of the depths of man

And hold the balance to the weight of every thought and intent

With calculating accuracy reduce actions to a set of predictable

Formulaic rhythms and reasons-

Bringing mountains to molehills-

But I cannot see hunger in front of me,

Withholding all crumbs from my table of insight,

As precious morsels from an enlightened existence-

I alone am the most pitiable, weak, and impoverished of souls.

 If I leave the world of men

To live upon the heights of ascent,

Deliver myself a sacrifice for the causes of greatest good

But do not live with my heart pierced by the wounds

Of the afflictions of those of earth-

And bear their life in my open, upraised hands-

To hold in love,

To receive in love,

 To give in love….

My own soul fire is but a dim flickering wick

 that profits the world-

Nothing.

© Christina Dammerman 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 16, 2012

“Drop of Innocence” – Sitra, Bahrain – Isa Ebrahim – Featured Photographer

“Drop of Innocence” – Sitra, Bahrain – Isa Ebrahim – Featured Photographer.

 

March 14, 2012

If-his blame depresses me

If the praise of man elates me and his

blame depresses me;

if I cannot rest under misunderstanding without

defending myself;

if I love to be loved more than to love,

to be served more than to serve,

then I know nothing of Calvary love

-Amy Carmichael, IF.

The ability to be unmoved by the praise or accusation of man, for the sake or cause of Christ is a place I am consciously pursing. I desire to be seated In HIM in heavenly places and unmoved by the fleeting accolades, and the far too numerous accusations of man.  To be secure in my identity as the beloved of God, called according to His purposes, and not the appointments of man, to live steady under His gaze is a desire, and goal of my heart.

I do not know yet what it is like to live “at rest” under misunderstanding.  The desire to justify the intents and purposes of my actions pushes me to voice my concerns and clarify my point when misunderstanding arises.  I am searching for the  balance between ” if you know your brother has something against you, go to him”  and “being silent before your accusers”.  I am looking to find the shelter in his embrace that though the world wag their head and “say all manner of evil” against me, it doesn’t change who I am in The Beloved. That place that keeps me in love, though I am moved against in hate. I have the knowledge in my mind, but I need it to be a reality in my heart. For out of the heart we live.  Search my heart oh Lord…where is this reality?

Father, help me to not rise to my own defense when others think wrongly of me. Let me learn that place in the fellowship of your sufferings where abiding in you is my natural, not second or third response.  I ask you to show me the rest that is available to me in the knowledge of your love, a place that is my refuge, and my strong tower of defense.  Show me the servants towel, and the gentle way your hands wash the feet of your enemy.  Show me how to love.  How to give of myself unreservedly and how to receive unashamedly.

 

March 6, 2012

To Hatch A Soul

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.

C.S. Lewis

How do you hatch a soul?

Images of God as mother bird fluffed, brooding, stirring the nest he has made for us, peek over the horizon of my well defined God-caricature, threatening to take the paint brush away from me, demanding that I start again. This time with softer colors, and rounded edges.

God the perfect temperature.

God the perfect weight and balance.

God the nest builder.

God the patient, all things beautiful in His time,

Calls to me from outside the shell,

refusing to break it lest it make me weak,

and deformed in my understanding.

Calling, ever calling as I gasp

straining at air in the tiny

pocket of life as I knew it-

I must-

Break open, or die

BREAK open or DIE-

“I know the plans I have for you,”

says the Hatcher

“Break open and live,

Thoughts to prosper you-

Break open and live-

Give you an ending to what I have begun-

Break open to live”

God the dream maker spreads his wings over my hatching,

shielding my nakedness from the prying eyes of

unbroken ones.

God the hatcher of my soul,

Keep me in the shadow of your wings,

under the watching of your eye,

where my soul can find it’s trust to break

in the rhythm of your love.

Mat 23:37  O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killeth the prophets, and stoneth them that are sent unto her! how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!

Sharing This Today with:  http://seedlingsinstone.blogspot.com/

February 28, 2012

If-The noise of rain…

If I cannot catch “the sound of noise of rain” ( 1Kings 18:41)

long before the rain falls,

and, going to some hilltop of the spirit,

as near to my God as I can,

have not faith to wait there with my face between my knees,

though six times or sixty times I am told “there is nothing,”

till at last “there arises a little cloud out of the sea”

then I know nothing of Calvary love

–Amy Carmichael IF.

I come to this devotion trembling.  Here is the heart of the matter. I may have faith to hold steady for six but sixty? The long hours of hands extended to the Father, believing for the promise and the answers come back…no change.  There is nothing.

The seeds of accusation that lie dormant in my heart in those seasons of well watered presence, come bursting to life at the first sign of drought to choke out beauty and faith with their thorns. The slanderous lies against the knowledge of the love of God that hurls against my soul with gail force winds, revealing that my anchor has lost it hold on the cross beam of Christ, and I am adrift in the sea of forgetfulness.

The warrior king and  psalmist of Israel must have rowed  many a dark night’s journey in these soulish waters.  His tongue the pen of a ready writer recording for posterity the words of Psalm 103.  I imagine the trumpet call of battle as he commands his soul to bless the Lord, and forget not all his benefits.  His words take shape in the form of  the war trained hands of a weathered captain who has ridden many storms without loss of life or cargo.  Who knows how to crest each wave with a firm grasp upon the wheel.  With each thunderous crash I can feel the voice of the psalmist raging against the relentless, assaulting waves:

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate!” The wheel threatens to rip from his hands as he steadies for another crest.

“Slow-w-w to anger, and RICH in LOVE!” With a creak and a groan the ship lifts from the depths of the swell and is thrust forward with vengence.

“He knows our frame…” The ship pitches and rolls, “we are but Dust”.  There in the knowledge of our creator, and the uniqueness of our frame,he throws out the  anchor as the penetrating rays of the light house warn of the rocks of despair and once again hope is set on the one who is the everlasting God, and Father, who rewards us not according to our trangressions .

I know our Savior rowed a long Gethsemane night, sweating drops of blood at the stern of his soul, until he could say with perfect peace. “Not my will but yours be done” and he showed us Calvary Love.

Oh Lord. Keep me ‘steady as she goes’. Lord I believe, help my unbelief.

February 26, 2012

If- What Do I Know of Calvary Love, by Amy Carmichael

A devotional book from Amy Carmichael was given to me some time ago by a dear pastor friend. Amy Carmichael is one of my sister sages who departed before we had a chance to meet in person, but whom I have cherished getting to know through her volumes of poetry and inspirational writings.  You can read more about her work and life here.  I have felt the desire to work through these in my quiet time, and allow the statements of this great Indian Missionary to lead me to a deeper revelation of my heart, and the nobility of obedience I am called to.  Over the next few days I would like to share my thoughts with you.

The book IF came into being after a long sleepless night of soul searching,  Amy Carmichael writes in the forward how one evening in the mission a worker came to Amy and shared with her that one of the younger ones had missed the way of love and was going astray.  Amy began to question the Lord. “Is it I?  Did I fail her?  What do I know of Calvary Love?” Sentence by sentence the “If’s” came almost as if spoken into her ear. They were copied and used for the Fellowship, eventually becoming a book.

“That ye may be able to comprehend what is the breadth, and length, and depth,and height, and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge”

If I belittle those whom I am called to serve,

talk of their weak points  in contrast perhaps with what I think of  as my strong points;

if I adopt a superior  attitude, forgetting “who made thee to differ? and what hast thou that thou hast not received?”

then I know nothing of Calvary Love.

I am coming to a greater understanding that I have nothing which has not been given me by the Father.  In Genesis we see before man was created, before there was anyone to till the earth, the world is in a state of pregnancy, paused in its desire to burst forth in to life, because there was as yet no man to till the ground, and God had not sent rain upon the earth.

Gen 2:5  And no plant of the field was yet in the earth, and no herb of the field had yet sprung up; for Jehovah God had not caused it to rain upon the earth: and there was not a man to till the ground;

The divine precedent of God is all life comes from, is sustained by and returns to Him.  If He doesn’t send the rain, we have no bread.  This causes me to be a thankful petitioner of daily grace.  If I have come to embrace this reality, and recognize my meek, and helpless position before the mercy of the Father I have no right, or authority to look downward or sideways at those I am called to serve.   I have no strength but His, I have no love but His, and when I see failings, and short comings in my fellows, I realize:  “but for the grace of God there go I”.

Oh Lord, keep me in the shadow of Calvary, that my eyes be not wayward and only see others through you.

February 25, 2012

To A Friend

To A Friend-
Listen, girl, these moments are clouds:
you let them pass and they’re gone.
Soak up their moist touch. Get
drenched.
Don’t waste a single drop.
Listen, downpours don’t remember
streets,
and sunshine can’t read roadsigns
Parveen Shakir, Urdu Poetess

What sound advice. Drink up our moments, for really that is all we are given.

February 18, 2012

Blind Sunflowers

In reading a poem from one of my favorite authors Amy Carmichael, a line rang from the page with imagery for our time in the Son. 

“Flood me with hope today for souls perverse, undone, for sinful souls that turn away, blind sunflowers from their sun”.

Blind Sunflowers. In nature this is impossible. The root being and core design of the sunflower is to follow the gaze of the sun across the hours of the day, bending it’s head in prayer at the drawing in of the day.  Yet is it possible for the image bearers to so deny the essence of our creation, the knowledge of the Holy in our souls that like the sunflower in Carmichael’s poem, we turn away from the warmth and light of life by whom we have been granted motion, bios, breathe, and being.   Can we force ourselves to be blind to the movements of The Spirit and stand rigid in our days darkened, and dance-less, and unaware of the festival of the living rhythm of The Son?  Oh Maker, open the eyes of our heart, that those who want, may see. That those who thirst may drink. That those who hear may know.

Hope Through Me

by:  Amy Carmichael

“Hope through me, God of Hope,

Or never can I know

Deep wells and living streams of hope,

And pools of overflow.

Flood me with hope today

Four souls perverse, undone,

For sinful souls that turn away,

Blind sunflowers, from their Sun.

O blessed Hope of God,

Flow through me patiently,

Until I hope for everyone

As Thou hast hoped for me. “

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