a prayer: honest poetry

my Father,

somehow I know tonight that you work in me,

even as I moan, weary of my sin disease.

I hate my flesh that loves all that is in the world;

the twin lusts and the exalting pride destroy me.

though a child of my own Father, I feel a bastard

and see the sickening resemblance of heart and mind

to the dark master in my past. I am weakness.

am I an invalid in the house of my Father?

why is victory wrung, and defeat commonplace?


the eagle: on flying high

“On a day in the autumn, I saw a prairie eagle mortally wounded by a rifle shot. His eye still gleamed like a circle of light. Then he slowly turned his head, and gave one more searching and longing look at the sky. He had often swept those starry spaces with his wonderful wings. The beautiful sky was the home of his heart. It was the eagle’s domain. A thousand times he had exploited there his splendid strength. In those far away heights be had played with the lightnings, and raced with the winds, and now, so far away from home, the eagle lay dying, done to the death, because for once he forgot and flew too low. The soul is that eagle. This is not its home. It must not lose the skyward look. We must keep faith, we must keep hope, we must keep courage, we must keep Christ. We would better creep away from the battlefield at once if we are not going to be brave. There is no time for the soul to stampede. Keep the skyward look, my soul; keep the skyward look!”

-Streams in the Desert

a dialogue with my Father

Yesterday I bridged the gap between break and a new semester. I almost cried when the airplane left the runway… and then I had a headache and I hated being stared at by strangers. I laid my head on the window & didn’t understand, until I went into the sanctuary of God. Oh Lord, thou hast searched me and known me… if  I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. God, I know You’re my Father, but I really don’t want to do this. Because she has set her love upon me, therefore will I deliver her: I will set her on high, because she hath known my name. She shall call upon me, and I will answer her: I will be with her in trouble; I will deliver her and honor her. Maybe we can do this after all. I in them and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou has sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.

valley of vision IV

Thou great I AM,

Fill my mind with elevation and grandeur at the thought of a Being

with whom one day is as a thousand years,

and a thousand years as one day.

A mighty God who, amidst the lapse of worlds,

and the revolution of empires,

feels no variableness,

but is glorious in immortality.

May I rejoice that, while men die, the Lord lives;

that, while all creatures are broken reeds,

empty cisterns,

fading flowers,

withering grass,

He is the Rock of Ages, the fountain of living waters.

sin: the enemy within

Dear God, it calls me,

Screaming whispers reach from within,

I lean shuddering, lusting, fearing

It seizes and will not let me go.

Will I flee? will I sink?

Insisting, dragging, poisoning, sweetening

Robed in fascination, swiftly comes.

My God! I cannot call, my will is dead

And poisoned in the thrall.

You killed the shadow

The sickening, thrilling darkness is dead

And cannot take me.

Loving you, I flee from myself

To completing, cleaning, filling goodness

And hide in the depths of you.

My God! Bringer of hope and fullness

Only staying, nourishing, loving one.

You cannot go.

Thankful, I stay and love the source of love

With my poor passion.

Eternal one in light, my own.

i have decided to journal in poetry

I found one of my many poem/prayers in an old notebook today… it tells me more about myself than all my daily journal entries ever will. This openness before God was a good place to be… I need to go back there again.

Father, today I pray without pretending.

the wrapped up niceties are gone,

and only rawness remains.

you know the deep end of me, anyway.

this moment, I pray not theology

but simply crave to recall my reason,

the purpose I have for remaining alive.

all I want, all I ask is to believe

that the invisible is worth more.

to see the invisible, I need to know

the solemn meaning of counting my all as loss.

to gain your fullness, I must be empty.

steadfast love in the morning

If you’ve ever been so tired that you run into closed doors and react about ten seconds after something happens, you know what college life is like. In the morning, I usually wake up having forgotten about God’s love for me… all I want is more sleep, and I feel that I were better dead than up early and at college about a million miles from home. I dread waking up just because of the depression that hits me. So this morning, my first conscious thoughts went something like this: “I hate alarm clocks. dear God, help me. I don’t want to be depressed today. I hate my life. why am I even alive? dear God, is it wrong to want heaven so much? I am sorry I am so discontented… I want to go home, dear Father, just take me home.  I can’t take any more of this. The Lord is my light and my salvation…” Never mind taking one day at a time, I take one second at a time. Thank God for His love in the morning and His faithfulness at night (Psalm 92:2).

valley of vision

Who can fathom immeasurable love?

As far as the rational soul exceeds the senses,

so does the spirit exceed the rational in its knowledge of thee.

Thou has given me understanding to compass the earth,

measure the sun, moon, stars, universe,

but above all to know thee, the only true God.

I marvel that the finite can know the Infinite,

here a little, afterwards in full-orbed truth;

Now I shall know but a small portion of what I shall know,

here in part, there in perfection,

here a glimpse, there a glory.

To enjoy thee is life eternal, and to enjoy is to know.

Keep me in the freedom of experiencing thy salvation continually.

  -Valley of Vision

prayer poetry

But my love is frost and cold, ice and snow;

Let His love warm me,

lighten my burden,

be my heaven;

May it be more revealed to me in all its influences

that my love to Him might be more fervent and glowing;

Let the mighty tide of His everlasting love

cover to rocks of my sin and care;

Then let my spirit float above those things

which had else wrecked my life.


Make me more fruitful by living to that love,

my character becoming more beautiful every day.

If traces of Christ’s love-artistry be upon me,

may he work upon me with his divine brush

until the complete image be obtained

and I be made a complete image of him, my master.

           -Valley of Vision