Sacred Poems

If I were lost in misery,
What was it to your heaven and thee?
What was it to your precious blood,
If my foul heart call'd for a flood?
What if my faithless soul and I
Would needs fall in
With guilt and sin,
What did the Lamb that he should die?
What did the Lamb that he should need,
When the wolf sins, himself to bleed?

If my base lust
Bargain'd with death and well-beseeming dust,
Why should the white
Lamb's bosom write
The purple name
Of my sin's shame?

Why should his unstain'd breast make good
My blushes with his own heart-blood?

O my Savior! make me see
How dearly you have paid for me;

That lost again, my life may prove
As then in death, so now love.

~ Richard Crashaw

I've Created...People...in Lit Class...

Nicene Creed

We believe in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, light from light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
of one Being with the Father;
through him all things were made.
For us and for our salvation
he came down from heaven,
was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary
and became truly human.
For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father [and the Son],
who with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified,
who has spoken through the prophets.
We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead,
and the life of the world to come. Amen.

Ready For Europe

Rome—my preconceptions of the city were met, and—at the same time—blown out of the water. Rome, within its walls, holds the speed of Nairobi traffic as well as the quaintness of the small, Tuscan town of Hollywood blockbusters. Its piazzas are most striking. In the midst of a vast jungle of streets and buildings, the piazzas are a spacious oasis. At the center, a fountain or statue occupies the focal point. People flock to the openness of the piazza. From it, beautiful alleys and streets, overflowing with shops and stands, shoot like spokes from a hub. Rome, at once, holds history, beauty, modernity, antiquity, casualness, fashion, and lightening speed.

To-morrow, To-morrow, To-morrow

What do I love to do? This is the question that constantly plagues my thoughts; this fiend, whom I can neither see nor touch, has obtained some manner of omnipresence. It seems that I can never gain a moment’s respite from this lurking foe. At any instant, the hated question may rear its ugly head and smugly ask, “Have you figured out what you’re doing with your life?” What a vile thing to ask. How could I know the answer to such a huge question? My first reaction is to ignore the difficulty posed by such a question; if I push it to the side I will forget it and, more importantly, it will forget me. Quickly I realize that I am only fooling myself; I cannot run from this decision, nor can I hide.

So I turn to face my sneering companion. As I do, I am reminded that my future, as unknown as it may be, is in hands far greater than my own. The words of Christ, captured by his disciple Matthew, are a soft, relaxing breeze to my tired mind. “Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?” [Matt. 6.26-27] At these words, I am overcome by a sense of peace. The realization that the God of the universe, in whom I have placed my trust, will provide in ways I cannot imagine, brings immense relief. The smug look on my opponent’s face has all but withered.

Wait, has the look withered or was it even there in the first place? Have I been blind? Has the “grey rain-curtain…[been] rolled back”? I suddenly realize that the question, which I have seen for so long as a foe, is truly a blessing waiting to be grasped. Just as the early Christians in Rome were told “to present [their] bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God,” so my future presents me with the same opportunity. [Rom. 12.1] As I look upon the question of what to do with my future, I desire that Paul’s exhortation be made real in whatever path I may follow. It is that desire that guides my every thought and every decision concerning the future.

Truly, it is quite odd; nothing, in the practical sense, has changed. My future lacks clarity as it did before; even so, I breathe easily. My perspective has changed. With a new focus, the question regarding my future is developed and improved. The prompt is no longer, “what am I going to do with my life,” but “how can I make my life a holy sacrifice?” What will I do on this earth that will increase the glory of God? In what way can I accomplish such a serious and weighty mission? These questions, though more grave than the original, make me smile. These questions are my friends, these questions address my passions. A joyful voice is asking, “What do you love? Where do your passions reside?”

Immediately, like a volcano that has reached its boiling point, I explode with an answer, “I love people! I need to work with them!” It is quite true, I readily admit to myself. People are a joy and a pleasure with which interaction is challenging and rewarding. Undoubtedly, my life, in some way, has to revolve around interaction with others. Immediately, I am nagged with the statement, “but you’re a history major.” It’s stated with such a cold, matter-of-factness; I shudder. Of course I’m a history major! What does it matter? All too quickly it dawns on me; historians are not generally known for careers that involve vast amounts of personal interaction. Such a realization leaves in its wake a frightening dilemma; am I forced to walk the path of a typical historian, or can I combine my love of people in the past with my love of people in the present?

At length, a new thought, a rising sun, showers me with an idea that warms and illuminates. I am not constrained by a course of study; in fact, knowledge in one area awakens understanding in another. “What do you love about history?” I am slowly asked. You mean there is something behind my interest in history? Could there possibly be something deeper? History is facts; it is dates, it is philosophies, it is dead rulers and subjects. History is war and it is peace. Yet, it is not these things that I love. When I read history I am captivated by what element? All of a sudden, with little ceremony, I realize what is so enchanting about history. It is a story! Of course, it is the splendor and romance of a story that is the simple, beautiful element in the study of history.

Another piece of the puzzle has been found. My future must contain interaction with a story. I must tell my story while helping others discover their own. For the first time, I begin to think in specifics. What would allow me to pursue a desire for storytelling? Most obviously, I could become a writer. Wait a minute, I am not a writer; I struggle when I am given a four-page assignment. At the same time, I love sharing my thoughts, I love telling the story I see unfolding before me. Writing would allow me to delve into this great story, the story of the ages that is continually being authored by God Himself. However, I am unconvinced. Writing cannot possibly be for me. I am fascinated by the prospect of writing but scared senseless by an art-form in which I see nothing but my own inadequacies. Nonetheless, I find the possibility of composing written work mystifying and intriguing. Before I have to time to enjoy the possibility of a future in writing, I am sideswiped by the possibility of telling the story I so love, in a completely different way. Yes, of course; I could tell the story visually. Photography would give me the chance to tell the same story that consistently shines through in my writing. With the thought of these creative avenues, I feel my passions begin to boil at the possibility of sharing in the honor of telling a great story.

In spite of my excitement, the specific question of my future remains unanswered. I find myself confused by my passions; they seem too many. Will I ever be able to experience each passion or am I resigned to one? Will I find the opportunity to enjoy these passions on a daily basis? But most importantly, can I unite my love for these things with my desire to present myself as “a living and holy sacrifice”? I believe the answer to these questions is yes. However, I must be careful. If only my passions are realized, they shall become meaningless. However, the life of sacrifice without passion is an offering that is bland and tasteless. The vision of the future, seen through the lens of my present self, suggests unknown, but exciting possibilities. I am no longer scared by the possibility of a passionless life; on the contrary, I am thrilled by the uncertainty of the future, a future that “opens before [me] the possibility of making every act of [my life] contribute to the glory of God.” All the questions subside as I realize the immense blessing of a passion filed life directed towards a passion filled God.

Out of Reach

Death comes too slowly
life ebbs away.
Strength of our youth
wanes into human entropy.

All that we desire
is held before us,
like Tantalus,
sentenced to a lifetime;

striving and failure.
Death brings peace
or so we hope.
For life has wounded
beyond repair.

Iridescent Innocence

Warm, green grass
caressing my feet while
cool, crisp air
grazes my face
And there are
acorns

I love the brown
smattered against
the green, like
chocolate chips in a verdant
cookie.

Now a warm ray
of light cuts through
the trees.
It cascades like a sparkling
waterfall.
It glitters.
I love the
colors.

The One You Knew

I'm leaving but don't worry i'll be back again,
you're always right here
and you're grieving but don't hurry to your pack of friends,
I'll stay it's clear,

The one you knew from your love
I grew into complete and whole
and the way I justify,
it's my way to control love everlasting

I see your sweater,
rests upon your bed reminds me of home,
it can't be any better than it is in my head
I'm blinded by roam

The one you knew from your love
I grew into complete and whole
and the way I justify
it's my way to control

there's only one way I know how to do this
stay here and help me live through this
and I'll always be

the one you knew from your love
I grew into complete and whole
and the way I justify
it's my way to control love everlasting

- Joshua Radin

Only You

Looking from a window above
It's like a story of love
Can you hear me
Came back only yesterday
I'm moving further away
Want you near me

All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew
Only you

Sometimes when i think of her name
When it's only a game
And I need you
Listen to the words that you say
It's getting harder to stay
When I see you

All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew
Only you

This is going to take a long time
And I wonder what's mine
Can't take no more
Wonder if you'll understand
It's just the touch of your hand
Behind a closed door

All I needed was the love you gave
All I needed for another day
And all I ever knew
Only you

- Joshua Radin

Was ein wunderbarer Retter!

Father God, may I see Your face and behold Your splendor. Oh Lord, the God of my salvation! You have redeemed my life from the pit, You have healed my iniquities, You have lavished me with good gifts. I will not forget Your faithfulness. I will praise Your name in the valley, I will shout Your goodness into the shadow, I will sing of Your unending love in the face of trial and hardship. There is none like you! To you, none compares! May all praise and glory be unto your name!

Freedom

Have you ever noticed how sin compounds itself? Giving yourself over to one "little" sin often causes a complete sinful change in attitude. Sin, as it is so often described, is a cancer. It arises in the heart, infects the mind, and eventually spreads to the soul. It is crippling, destroying all that is good. Love, selflessness, sacrifice, charity, godliness are overrun by the desire for self, the sin of pride. We believe we can do it without God; in essence, we become our own god and worship ourselves as supreme. Our flesh becomes master and we readily submit to its every whim. And it all begins with one's desire to be God, to make our own decisions independent of Him, to decide what is best four ourselves, to be independent. There is no independence from God, but there is freedom, complete freedom in Him. It is in the desire to gain freedom that the great deceiver plants his greatest lie. He tells us that we can only enjoy independence apart from God. So we eat the forbidden fruit and give ourselves over to broken cisterns (Jeremiah 2:13). In our search for freedom and independence, we become slaves to the very things Satan told us would give the pleasure of freedom. We have become so chained to money, pleasure, sex, comfort, success, and idealism that we are dying in bonds. God, in His divine pleasure, has delivered us from bondage. In Christ, the Creator offers a way to make our way out of slaver back to true freedom. This freedom is obtained through submission. It is the realization that the god of our pride cannot satisfy, in fact those things can only be satisfied in the one true God of the universe. God, through Christ, takes our shackles upon Himself anbd breaks them for us. However, it is only through our willing heart felt submission to the God who created us that we are made free. Allowing God to guide our lives allows us to enjoy the good things He has created because we first enjoy Him.

Gravity

Restlessness pervades my limbs;
They yearn for movement
Yet are restricted everyday.
What does each extremity seek?
Made for poetry but subjected to prose,
My body aches for a purpose,
A purpose that cannot be realized.
Legs are burdened by weight
But desire to run.
Arms designed to be raised in praise
Are pulled heavily toward the ground.
Can the weight be lifted?
Will my limbs know freedom?
Is a purpose to be recognized?
Or must I wait? Can I wait?

Heart of Stone

Heart of stone and frozen mind;
I hear no good and speak all evil.
I desire greater but cannot find
Something that melts my heart in other people.

The Prince Speaks

“Many are the secrets that I know;
Of life and death and beginning and end.
In fullness of time these things will show,
When by innocent death, all will mend.

The field of battle is grim and gray.
The enemy we face will not easily fall,
But with you I’ll stand on this day of days,
Until the death bell tolls and the emperor calls.”

Silver Glass & White Shores

Have you ever fallen half-asleep on a warm, spring day? The sun streams through the windows and its beams gently caress your face as you begin to drift into another state of consciousness, another world. In that half-dream, half-reality, you dream of wonderful things: green fields, vibrant flowers, knights and ladies, wizards and witches, beautiful castles, tall forests, and, you dream of love. When you awake, your sole desire is to return to that world. You have entered the land of dreams, the land where what you feel becomes what you see and touch—where imagination becomes reality.

God Knows Best

Have you ever felt that dark feeling when you are alone? Something falls to the pit of your stomach, turns around, sits stoically and weighs you down. And you are alone, simply alone. No matter how many people may occupy your surroundings, you are alone; alone as the desert ascetic. People hold no interest, sadly they simply fill time. It is only too easy to despair. When this feeling is prevalent, hope seems to whither, to fade. And you cry out in pain and confusion. You say that this cannot be life. This cannot be what I was made for. This cannot be my purpose. I was not made to live a life only filled with loneliness. I was not made to be alone.

It seems the questions so often go unanswered. The loneliness becomes indefinite. Where is the salve for the rawness of the soul? Is there a cure? Where is it? How often are we told there is? To easily an answer is offered. It is a hard answer to grasp, to believe. Often it is not a solution that gives us what we desire. And we hate it. We hate every fiber of the solution because we still feel empty. But we know it is true. Every other way has failed. And so we endure knowing that the emptiness is a trial through which we must persevere. Our perseverance will make us worthy of the trial; we become men and women of character. In our character, we find hope in the giver.

A Page Is Turned

A page is turned by the wind to a boy in curly grin
With a world to conquer at the age of ten
But as history unfolds and the storybook is told
He finds salvation but not at the hands of man

And the God of second chance
Picked him up and He let him dance
Through a world that is not kind
And all this time, preparing him, the one
To hold him up when he comes undone
Beneath the storm, beneath the sun
And now a man, here you stand
Your day has come

A page is turned in this world to reveal a little girl
With a heart that's bigger, as it is unfurled
By the language in her soul, that's teaching her to grow
With a careful cover of love that will not fail

And the God of second chance
Picked her up and He let her dance
Through a world that isn't kind
And all this time, preparing her the one
To hold her up when she comes undone
Beneath the storm, beneath the sun
And grown up tall, here you are
Your day has come

Beneath the air of autumn, she took him by his hand
And warm within the ardor, she took his heart instead
And high upon the mountain, he asked her for her hand
Just for her hand

A page is turned in this life, he's making her his wife
And there is no secret to the source of this much life
When the grace that falls like rain is washing them again
Just a chance to somehow rise above this land

Where the God of second chance
Will pick them up and he'll let them dance
Through a world that is not kind
And all this time, they're sharing with the one
That holds them up when they come undone
Beneath the storm, beneath the sun
And once again, here you stand
And once again, here you stand
Your day has come

- Bebo Norman

To Truly Live We Must First Die

Have you ever noticed that the spiritual world is simply a series of contradictions? To live one must first die. Following Christ leads to freedom and responsibility. To break the bonds of our slavery to sin, we must become slaves to Christ. The list could go on for quite sometime. My immediate reaction is to say that God is a loon. Yet anyone can read the statements of our Lord and see that He is quite sane, perhaps the most lucid being of all. So then why the contradictions? Perhaps, and I merely speculate, but perhaps God operates on a plane of existence in which we cannot understand true logic. God, in all wisdom and knowledge, must not see biblical "contradictions" as contradictions at all. In fact, with perfect understanding we would see the logic as well.

Ode to Wordsworth

Where does the soft spring breeze go?
Where will it end?
As it crosses hill and vale, mountain and plain.
Do you know from whence it came?

Where does the meadowlark fly?
Which skies does it caress with its wings?
Who hears its beautiful song,
And recognizes from whence it came?

Where does the cold mountain stream run?
Where do its murmurings alight,
As it twinkles and bubbles through the dense forest
Running swiftly from whence it came.

Where do the poets words flow?
For whom do they cry?
Their words rhyme in time as they rise and fall.
And one knows from whence it came.

The Scholars

Bald heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.

They'll cough in the ink to the world's end;
Wear out the carpet with their shoes
Earning respect; have no strange friend;
If they have sinned nobody knows:
Lord, what would they say
Should their Catullus walk that way!

William Butler Yeats

Who will sing for the brokenhearted?

Who will sing for the brokenhearted?
Who will bear their pain?
Who could love this decaying race?
Who could become one of them?
Not I, not I, for I am brokenhearted.
Not I, not I, for I am dying.
Then Who? Who is this Man?

Florence at Night

Sentimental? Perhaps. But don't tell me you don't wish that was you and a special someone in Florence.

The Extreme Perversion of Sin

...C.S. Lewis used his interests to self-protect. I, on the other hand, choose and use my interests to garner the praise and acceptance of those around me. Whether it be photography, sports, musicianship, intellecuality, or a myriad of other activities, most often my desire is the praise of men. Perhaps most poignantly, and most perverted, is my desire to use religion to gain accolade. In essence, my desire to worship the Almighty God is fueled by my desire to be worshipped by others. Thus, the Truth is perverted and completely inverted. How can a completely fallen man use the God of the universe to further his own glory? Literally impossible. However, I am told the lie and accept it as truth. As I write, the ridiculousness of my sin astounds me. I am embarrassed and grieved by my prideful heart. Such abjectness leads to one conclusion; I cannot do any true good on my own. Thus, I am convicted, both intellectually and spiritually, of my need for a savior; a savior graciously provided by our Father in heaven...