Category: Jesus

Dunning Kruger

Blade in his finger

He slashes all fools.—

The fool who did some miraculous thing

Like hit a golf ball

Which ricocheted thrice, into the hole, with a wild pull.

Can it be said that the fool was good at golf?

Rather, he did something once in a million’s lot.

 

Yea, meat comes in due season.

Does it not?

Is not all skill provided for by God?

The more we practice

The more we grow;

The more we’ve seen

The more we know.

I’ve seen a 120 Million Dollar Man

Strike twice with his lob.

 

However,

I’ve seen Grandmasters beaten

Four games to seven.

I know Dunning Kruger

Are full of bad leaven.

For I’ve seen the greats

Beaten by the not so much.

I’ve seen novices which crush

The greatest with a smooth touch.

When a man strikes an endzone

With a perfect throw,

Consider, it is God who in good season

Will give him the goal.

 

 

 

The Foot of Zion

At the mountain’s edge

I looked up in wonder at the mist.

How men will climb it to the top

And topple down the others.

 

Men will strive to reach its peak,

When all they need is to set their

Foot upon the precipice.

 

This is why God performs our vows.

He does not want us to climb

To the very top

And knock our brothers down.

 

Our foot upon the holy hill of

Zion

Is enough.

 

Let our thank offering be tents for the needy.

Let our peace offering be to lend to the poor.

Let our wave offering which we wave before the alter always clothe the naked.

Let our drink offering be poured out as a sweet savor to the foreigner.

Let our tithe unyoke the bonds of the captive.

Let our sacrifice be kind words.

 

Let our religion not be to camp in the wilderness

For the sake of selfish gain.

Let our religion be to visit the widow and orphan

In their time of distress—

Lest we scale the mountain

And knock down the lame and crippled

On our ascent.

My Rapture Dream

God took me up.

And, I didn’t make it.

In my heart… I knew why.

There was a little ember of resentment

Against God.

It’s there.

 

Yet… where is my hope

Except in Jesus?

 

The pages of my life flew by

And most of it was miserable.

The ardent belief in strange things…

All I should know is Christ Jesus.

That’s what the dream meant.

Falsehoods, about things I don’t understand.

 

When heaven seemed like it was a computer screen

I knew I was in trouble.

I knew I was rather in that other place.

 

It was the dream I needed.

The wake up call.

How many things I believe that are false.

I will, for now, and always

Meditate on Paul’s wisdom.

All I can know is Christ Jesus.

The Rapture

I was raptured last night.

 

I flung up

With my laser gun.

I knew about the war.

I fought in the war.

I flung into the sky

With all bright, great zeal.

 

There, the winged Father of Lights

Stood.

 

My report card…

It was marked with red

Very little green.

Full of falsehoods,

Heresies, delinquencies,

As every season of my life

Flashed like a page of a report card.

 

It soon became apparent…

I hadn’t reached heaven.

Because that gun was in my hand.

 

It was the storm-trooper gun from my childhood.

I was ready to play real war.

 

Christians, turn the other cheek.

Grass

The congregation sings,—

Grass in the field,

Lilly in the field—

We sprout up, sing our praise

With all of nature,

Who sings with tiny little spirits,

Innocent little doves.

 

Sway, sing the praise hymn.—

We are grass.

Here for a short breath of time

We are seeds,

We grow, wither hoar,

Become soot,

And are fed upon by the lilies in the valley.

 

Heaven’s Seasons

What if as frequently as you fed others

In Heaven, God would cook for you?

 

What if, the greatest you gave on earth

God would give to you?

 

What if every time you accompanied the prisoner

God, in heaven, would enter into your home?

 

What if, for every person you bestowed kindness

God would show a kindness to you?

 

What if heaven followed your life’s seasons,

And those seasons you “slipped,”

God would be elsewhere?

 

What if whenever the homeless found comfort in your house

God would give you room and board in his very mansion?

 

What if every good deed on earth

In heaven, God did equal the deed for you?

 

What if heaven has seasons

And for every kindness bestowed

On another human being

God bestowed an even greater kindness.

In our seasons, God gave us according to our seasons?

 

Like spring, winter and fall,—

Summer seasons,

The wet seasons,

Would be the seasons we gave to the homeless

Fed the widows,

The orphans

And showed kindness?

 

What if the least we could offer was lip service?

What if the least of kindness

Was “Sharing” the gospel?

What if the greatest was showing the gospel?

What if God didn’t want us to argue about whether He existed

But rather showed He existed

With our goodness here on earth?

 

What if this is what Christ meant by saying,

“Store up your treasure in heaven.”

 

What if every shekel you gave to the poor

Were worth a talent of gold in Christ’s kingdom?

What if, being very poor,

That same shekel were worth ten talents of gold?

What if, being the widow

Who put in her mite,

You received a thousand talents of gold,

And two thousand talents of copper?

And with this God would spend to build you a mansion?

 

What if by giving tents to the homeless

God would provide in your mansion

An entire corridor?

What if by giving a book,

You received a library?

What if by giving time

You received time with the Father himself?

Whose stew is better than even the heavenly food?

 

What if God’s greater servants

Would be your reward,

For living life with luke-warm kindness?

You would be approached by them

Much like one is approached by a Count

Instead of a Prince

Or a Marquis instead of a King?

What if there are some

Who spent an entire lifetime being good

Believing in Christ’s grace

And Grace Salvation

But did very little?

For those internal acts

God might send a Duke

Or a Viscount

Or a Baron.

 

But, those acts of kindness

The great feats which we accomplished

To help the poor, the homeless

The downtrodden,

What if Christ the King Himself

In the Flesh God gave Him

Or the very Father Himself

Came to your home

Each season at its season

For eternity, and for that season

He came?

 

Perhaps, this is a good way of looking at Works.

A Dream

There were two walls

Which opposed one another.

One was made of corn.

The other was made of mud.

The bodies of the slain in war

Were the straw that bound the mortar

Of the two walls.

 

The multitudes slain were like that of

A multitude, that of thirty-eight thousand, thousand;

And the other wall was more than this

Whose skulls shewn through the mortar.

Evil was on both sides, and neither side had righteousness.

 

Now is a time for talk, and not for war.