And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them. (Mark 10:13-16)

Jesus draw me close,
Place me in your lap of love.
Tears will wet your robe.

Non-Swimmer’s Lament

Surf, but not for some
who dive in, get wet,
who know real surf,
and thrill to the threat.

Cold water, so refreshing,
life healing, and
soul cleansing, but
it may be messy.

I want to be bold,
to get soaking wet,
yet, I may catch cold,
so I play at the edge.

Spirit says, “Come to me!
Leap into my waters!
Refresh yourself,
nothing else matters.”

So I leap, in halting faith,
swim warm—
not cold,
soaked with infinite grace.

Why did I not leap sooner,
a coward to the core?
But he is always faithful,
that I might fear no more.

Trying

Trying to be thankful for what You are doing,
Though at times it is so hard to bear.
Giving You credit for blessings hard to see,
Though I know the price You paid to care.

Trying to be patient with Your perfect labor,
As You’ve shown Your patience endlessly.
Always flesh blaming You for lying,
As the real liar accuses shamelessly.

Trying to be faithful in this life You gave me,
From your endless store of perfect love.
Hope not seen makes hope more pure,
When Your perfect timing makes You move.

Father, I don’t understand Your true, infinite nature;
All I have to give is incomplete.
When your Word reveals His glorified flesh,
I’ll be there to see Him, perfect when we meet.

Christendom’s Shame

We the church, the sinning saints,
Drape our Lord in purple spun,
All the while mocking him,
Scourging him with forty-less-one.

Churchy folks, we crown our King,
Not with gold, but thorns so long,
Every time we glibly sin,
Thorns press deeper with each wrong.

Praises, sing we Sunday morn,
Glorify our gracious Lord.
What? Our jeweled watches say
Sizzler’s waiting line’s now formed.

Preacher closes, audience lost,
Time for empty smiles has come,
Hurried handshakes, complements,
This week’s obligation done.

Downward cycle, one more turn;
Vane religion crucifies
Once again the suffering Savior
With a shroud of holy lies.

Ode To Tiny Toyota

Our Tiny Toyota

We love our tiny Toyota,
Call it our Ota-Toy.
At Christmas we’ll get one each
For our good little girl and boy.

On the highway, but not in traffic,
We get forty MPG.
With fuel smilage like that,
Oh heck, why not get three?

You really aughta buy one,
They’re so much fun to drive,
But always remember one thing:
Never get hit by a semi-truck,
If you want to get out alive.

Two Men

Saw a father and son ride by,
Near the hospitals on Pill Hill,
Grinning stupidly as they rode,
Charging along with a will.

Father of mine grins at me,
Love shining from his smile,
As I try to follow him,
Mile after life’s grueling mile.

I’m his adopted son, you see,
Makes no difference to him;
Even his natural Son loves me,
I’m his little brother Jim.

What more could a man want
In this cold and cruel life,
Than a Father who chooses to love,
and free me from deadly strife?

As I watched that man ride by,
Loving, and being loved by his boy,
I reveled in my own Father’s love,
And wept from unspeakable joy.

What Is Magic?

Magic is not at the end of a wand,
Nor in potions and incantations.
Magic is in your guileless smile,
Peaceful spirit in all situations.

Magic is in the brief, knowing glance
Of pure love conveyed without words.
Two hearts beat with same rhythm,
One domain merged from two worlds.

What is love but a magical experience,
Caring not for myself, but for you,
Happily deferring my needs for yours,
All presumptions cast into the blue?

Magic is gazing through your eyes at
Shimmering rainbows in sunlit fountains,
Deepest green of dense, dewy forest,
Red-orange sunset cast on white mountains.

Magic is holding no expectations
Of what you can do for me, but
Giving of myself whatever you will take,
And honoring who you care to be.

My Temptation

Advisory: The following contains—between the lines—honest content that some (legalistic) Christians might find offensive.

The temptation
assaulted me
again today,
aided by brethren’s
permission
in times past.

Yet,
does their permission
make yielding right?

I know yielding
stokes the fires
of shame,
erecting a wall
between my spirit
and my Lord.

Is it false guilt
over a trivial liberty?
Or
is it a stumbling stone
that impedes my progress?

Which is worse?
Self-gratification
with a natural function,
or
self-condemnation
controlling my life?

Yet,
the former may comprise
unwarranted liberty,
while the latter,
the work of conscience.

Wretched man that I am!
Who will deliver me
from this body of death?

Thanks be to God
through Jesus Christ our Lord!
So then,
I myself
serve the law of God
with my mind,
but with my flesh
I serve the law of sin.

There is
therefore now
no condemnation
for those
who are in
Christ Jesus.