Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Sacrifice II

Perhaps it is more sacrificial of a sacrifice if no one knows that what you're doing is a sacrifice to you.  The reason they might not know is because for them, it is the good life.  But you have different desires and for you it is a sacrifice.  Or does no one ever truly sacrifice?  For a Christian who "lays down her life to find it," doesn't she lay it down because what she gives up is truly lesser than what she gains?  And it wouldn't be a noble sacrifice at all to forgo eternal joy as a sacrifice to endure the pains of life without Christ.  No, what is sacrificed must be given up for something that is truly better, though often painful in the mean time.  Here is what the Lord says about this: "To obey is better than sacrifice."  So do not sacrifice merely for the sake of sacrifice, but obey the Lord and be willing to sacrifice everything, should he ask.

I'm realizing more and more that I WANT to live overseas in the future.  I have imagined raising my kids in another country.  Whenever I hear of young families going overseas, I think to myself, "someday that will be me and my family," and I start looking forward to it.  I think that for me to live in America and raise my kids here, would feel like a sacrifice.  But for most people the opposite is true.  So it feels like, "why would I need to sacrifice that if I could do what no one else wants to do and love it?"  The Lord is working faithfully, to bring me to maturity, though I know not where he will lead .  I hope to delight in the Lord's will, for in the center of his will is not sacrifice but abundance.

I wrote a sort of poem (what my father mockingly calls doggerel--despite iambic pentameter, no less!) along these lines:

King of Circumstance

Thought I had figured out who I would be,
Knew how I'd go, and where and what I'd see,
But questions come that force me to my knees,
Was this a plan for life, or merely training dreams?
Perhaps their purpose lay inside my heart
So inclination would not stray too far.
I pause and sigh, with nervous backward glance,
And turn my gaze to King of Circumstance.

It seems my path will make another turn,
The New Way is more diff'cult to discern.
Wherefore the views my heart has grown to yearn?
Are these mere borrowed dreams I must return?
So shall I open soul to changing scene,
Humble myself to follow One Who Leads.
With firm resolve, but risking backward glance,
I fix my eyes on King of Circumstance.

I know not how He leads nor to what end,
I only know that He is faithful friend,
Who gives me more than I could ever spend,
Would He, in gentle love, my heart dare rend?
Mature his vision of what I must bear,
Prepared for heaven when I meet Him there.
A steadfast heart, with nary backward glance,
I fully trust my King of Circumstance.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Rejection.

The door is closed.
It seems unopenable, impenetrable, immovable;
it doesn't really matter that it was closed inch by inch
until the last crack of light disappeared,
instead of slammed shut in an instant;
it is closed for now.
The phone buzzes.
It's a final word from a former friend,
words of anger, words that pierce;
"I don't like what you said, I won't be your friend,"
the message sinks past defenses to the vulnerable heart;
will it stay that way?
Avoided glances.
This hurts almost more than the words that were spoken,
a constant reminder of friend torn asunder,
and the heart wants to harden, to strengthen defenses,
to numb all the hurts,
yet it remains open.