Sunday, December 25, 2011

Slaves to Righteousness

What then? Shall we sin because we are not under the law but under grace? By no means! Don’t you know that when you offer yourselves to someone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one you obey — whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God that, though you used to be slaves to sin, you have come to obey from your heart the pattern of teaching that has now claimed your allegiance. You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness... Just as you used to offer yourselves as slaves to impurity and to ever-increasing wickedness, so now offer yourselves as slaves to righteousness leading to holiness. When you were slaves to sin, you were free from the control of righteousness. What benefit did you reap at that time from the things you are now ashamed of? Those things result in death! But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 6:15-22

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

O to grace, how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Polished Shoes

I am given the power
To live in the white tower
Shall I be a king
Stamp with a signet ring

Or can I make the choice
That others cannot
To live at the bottom
Instead of looking down from the top

Can we march around the walls
Trumpets high, marching tall
And break down the bricks
Of this place of conflicts

Throw away our polished shoes
Pick up our sandals
Let's paint our skin
Holding hands, enter in.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Metal wings

we’re born from the ashes
broken bottles and
blood-stained rags
cold hands hold and mold
our crying bodies
in blankets and cloth

the ice is melting
tears in ripples
frozen rage against
the bars and cage

blaming those hands
born to broken people
burned in mortar and char
in the foundries of past.

there is weight in flight
with metal wings.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Oh Pracrastination!

Swerving roadways of black
And paths for wand'ring eyes
Graphite and blue-stained hands

A friend!

- Sighing

The eyes drift to the sea
Of ups and downs on white
To soon create my own -

In time.