Windows down, music up

The air presses against me, shivering

Sun blankets us both

Trees race across the whole spectrum of possible greens

I feel small,

Looking through the legs of the forest

It’s the same feeling I had last night

When I sat down in the middle of the pressed concert crowd


In that golden wheat field –

The ants know what I mean





Salvation Belongs to the Lord

Salvation Belongs to the Lord

My wild eyes looked into His,

I’ve lost the key to my soul.

The gentleness of that smile.


Cannot say.

But he did not need to speak.

It was as if His whole being spoke.

It was as if the words came through

The open door of His soul.

You did not lose the key.

I’ve had it 

All along. 



Love’s Beauty

Love’s Beauty

I saw a couple walking down a path.

Arm in hair, white hair, slow steps.

By themselves, you would have thought

Him bent, her wrinkled.

But when she leaned on him, arm through his,

He was strong.

And she,

She was more than beautiful

When he looked at her.


And when I looked again, it almost seemed

They chose to walk so slowly down that path

That they might dream each other’s fading dreams

And breathe each other’s breath awhile yet.


They knew how to hold each other up.

Better than anyone. Better than themselves.

Alone, they could not have been strong enough;

Love gave them what they could not give themselves.


Perhaps when they were younger it was not so.

They had walked faster then I think, and not so close.

Sometimes it’s easier, when you’re strong, to walk alone;

But love is stronger still when it’s needed most.


There was no passion of wild love about them now.

Only a depth of knowing, an unconscious care;

And when she looked up and smiled at him,

Her eyes were full of the lifetime they had shared.


Yet if you were to ask them what love is,

They might no longer have the words upon their lips;

But watch the way in which they walk, and live,

And know love by the beauty that it gives.


They each reflected the other’s luminescence

Till no space was left between their souls;

And laying aside love’s trappings, they found its essence

In the beauty that two broken halves can hold.






Little Things

Little Things

Give me a pen, a paper, a warm mug of my favorite tea.

“It’s just a little thing,”

You’ll say.

I beg to disagree.

Step into these shoes for a moment, please,

And see what I see:

No degree

Of big or small.

I don’t see size in these moments at all,

Each one a drop

In the waterfall,

A single note.

But what I see in these moments most

Is their rhythmic growth,

A crescendo

Of petals unfolding.

Come now, moments, you had almost fooled me.

You would have told me

To look

For your life changers;

But now I see. Every moment changes me.

There is no in-between,

No value measure.

So I’ll dare to seek,

Dare even to believe, that every moment holds a treasure;

I’ll live and breath

Outside these

Inward fetters.

Don’t stereotype the moments as worse or better;

Perhaps you’ll find,

Like me,

That in a pen, a paper,

A warm mug of your favorite tea: there lies

The most beautiful things.

If only

You choose to see.


Ballroom Dancing

Ballroom Dancing

I see a ballroom, made of glass.

I see the waves, and each wave asks

Politely, if the birds would come and dance?


The floor is flooded with setting sky

And streams of color prism by:

A rippling mirror to catch the reflection of flight.


Slowly, softly, an unseen orchestra rises

Gently touching instruments of sea and silence.

The birds soar in the music, as if they would climb it.


Altogether now, (I can almost see the Conductor’s hand),

The waves and the birds and the sunrays on sand

Join in fluid symphony, hand to hand.


A whirling circle – laughter flinging on the breeze –

Twirling faster, their rhythm swings to ecstasy;

Color, form, shape, and sound cascade in untold harmony!


And longing seizes me, that I might stay;

I lift my arms, and somehow, in some small way,

I step into the circle, between the wind and waves.


Now this becomes my greatest praise:

For I hear the Conductor in the colored spray,

And though this beauty pass, He yet remains.


I see the ballroom, made of glass.

I hear the waves, and each wave asks

Politely, if the girl would come and dance?








To Live Well

To Live Well

As yesterday cannot dwell in today, so one man’s life never copies another’s. Commonalities are frequent, yet never pure. One facet of a person’s life may match another’s; but turn the stone and a different face will greet you. We all have many faces, many loves, many ambitions. While some match to our fellows, no combination is ever created twice. Like a man’s thumbprint, his soul is never duplicated.

Be careful not to covet your neighbor’s goods. Why does Christ warn us so often of sinning against our neighbor? Because it is the temptation of human nature to envy those we are closest to. Even more than material possessions, we seem to covet our neighbor’s life. His success, his health, his relationships, his abilities, his influence, and his seeming happiness: these are all included in his “goods”. We have yet to learn that sorrow frequently hides its face, while happiness spins in elusive circles to exaggerate its size. Often, this is no fault of our friends, but is the warped perspective of a nature prone to jealousy.

All things are living and dying save Christ. The longer we covet a thing, the more dying it has become. God makes everything beautiful in its time. The beauty of another’s life should not be compared with our own. Each journey differs in length and terrain, yet wonder and awe grace each, though perhaps at different stages. Some views are found halfway up the mountain, and others only at the top.

Live the life laid out for you. Climb your own mountain, it is the only journey you have been given the strength to complete. You will miss many things which you ought to have seen. Yet, if you are constantly seeking to pour out the love of Christ, many pitfalls will be avoided, though you never see them. Love covers a multitude of sins; not only in the way we view others, but also in the way we obey our Savior. If we sacrifice all things, even giving up our bodies to be burned, yet have not love, we have gained absolutely nothing. Love is our guarantee against comparison. First, God’s love for us. Then, that same love through us for others.

Seek always to love well. It is the only way to live well. Do not waste time looking for shortcuts. The gate of Love is narrow and the way is hard which leads to life, and those who find it are few. Ease and growth are incompatible. You cannot have both, only either. Love is rarely comfortable, because love is growth. Yet this struggle in loving is the very thing which makes Love so beautiful.

Built into God’s commands are God’s blessings. When Christ declared the first and greatest commandment “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind”, he knew what the Pharisees did not: that to obey this command from the heart would not bring bondage, but instead, perfect freedom.

When we seek to love others without reserve or condition, we have entered simultaneously a place of struggle and of peace. Struggle, because of the rebellion of the old man; and peace, because the Spirit of God which identifies us as His children belongs within the sanctuary of Love.

This is the practical life of one who would defeat comparison by keeping their eyes fixed on Christ.  For is not Christ, God? And is not God, Love?  I must say it again. To love well is to live well. Necessarily then, to love with reserve is to live with reserve. But we must run as those who would win. We must not beat the air vainly. We must train. Through the power of Christ’s resurrection, we are called to rise from the dead and do the impossible. We are called to love well.





On and on the story goes

Rolling with the ages,

With the waves;

Threads the needle, sews the page

Of this moment onto yesterday’s.


The ebb and flow of

Nations, peoples, times;

The rising and the falling of the tide;

It moves the sand, the individual grains,

But never have I ever seen the waves

Corrode and die.


Some things never change;

Like the way the waves are wet

And the sun is dry.