
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Second Thoughts on Park Days and a Philippines Update

Sunday, August 7, 2011
Waxen Wings

Sunday, July 24, 2011
My Trip Report from Next: Part 2, and Pray for Sovereign Grace.

Sunday, July 17, 2011
My Trip Report from Next 2011: Part 1

Sunday, January 30, 2011
A Sword

Builder of Each Constellation,
Inventor of Cogitation,
Definer of Consecration,
He reigns in conflagration,
worthy of all commendation.
He shaped the depths and elevations
With the words of His exhalations.
Most are unfound by our explorations.
Try to start with nothing for your emulations.
Somehow, we only see Christ as Lamb, or we only see Him as Lion.
Each angle sheds another light on the chief resident of
Many lesser-loved words of Christ need to be underscored,
like this one: "I came to bring a sword."
"It's strange that the Prince of Peace would say something so warlike"
may be a common objection,
but is worthy of correction,
since it is inspired truth despite apparent contradictions.
Yet a gospel of repentance is a call
to find no inherent worth in all
of our ambitions and hope in self.
There, Christ brings the maul
between us and our cosmos since the fall.
And many will find it strange that the score
to a follower of Christ is not based on what we hoard
for ourselves in this world, but the wrath poured
into the cup for Christ to drink down for sins galore.
Yet we were undone to the core
and our sins, we deplored
when He opened our dead eyes and our first sight was the Lord
and we saw that Christ our sins bore.
Are there treasures in store?
Yes, more.
But He Himself is the greatest of all treasures.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Abhorred

For the proud look in the eye,
For the tongue telling a lie,
For the murders implied by a hate standing by, (Matthew 5.)
For this scheming heart of mine,
For these feet that evil find,
For false witness and vain strife,
Someone had to die.
Not for low self-esteem,
Not to grant a worldling's dream,
Not for a Benz agleam,
Not for more wins for my team,
But for sin - my sins extreme
Against the God who cannot deem
That I can stand in His regime
Unless He would first redeem.
Do you know how a loving God can hate?
He hates because He first loves His own glory -
His own name -
His own attributes -
The name we profane when we do not consider its weight -
Its majesty -
Its dominion -
Over colliding galaxies and orbiting bodies and shifting continents -
That He first shaped in the palm of His hand
And said with a word, "May it be -
It is good. I have fashioned this for the glory and praise and pleasure of Me - alone!"
And all of heaven cheered as they saw this planet,
Freed to spin throughout the dark expanse of space
About its nearest burning star -
To show His creative power -
For His glory.
His dominion extends over every nation, whether in peace or war -
To every city great or small,
To every person rich or poor,
To every creature of the forest, air, and seas,
To every blade of grass that they trample on,
To every cell, molecule, and atom -
Engineered like a little solar system, with electrons orbiting a nucleus,
To show His grand design, even on the smallest scale -
For His glory.
And the angels, beside themselves in adoration,
Respond with their every meditation:
"Holy is the Most High over all creation!"
And my life's reply?
Selfish ambitions,
Not-captive cognitions,
Partial submissions,
Apathetic renditions
Citing "too much tradition"
Of men's compositions
To give Him recognition.
I should constantly strive to do the things which make my Holy Father smile,
To know that He grieves when my heart is not God-besought,
Because He knows that He alone is the source of every perfect gift
And apart from Him I have no good thing at all;
To see my inmost man, with a heart adrift
even for a second, in my mind I fall.
And for even that careless step, I ought
To march with the hellbound ranks, one hundred-file -
Rather than to take the narrow path with room enough for one,
A road with jagged rocks, traveled barefoot by the Son
Of God, who took the forty lashes - smack! -
Was lifted to a cross and nailed there - whack! -
And died the worst of deaths to buy me back. (That was grace.)
My trifles I pursue,
The idols not eschewed,
The thoughts that pleased my old mind unrenewed -
The Lord must abhor each one,
Because for His glory to triumph over that, He had to kill His Son.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Adorned

Envision the seraph:
A "burning one", unequaled in creation.
A "singing one" in constant worship celebration.
Yet to be praised has never been his concentration.
He will instead ascribe all glory to the God of every nation.
A perfect being, yet its perfections can't outdo
its God's, so worshiping a seraph is taboo.
Four of their wings hid their faces and feet from view,
Lest they be impure. They fly with the other two.
Do not think that in their presence you can be a passerby.
Isaiah himself cried out, "Undone am I!"
Supernaturally strengthened just so that he would not die?
He had to be when he saw the Lord nigh.
Consider their God:
There is one God in three Persons - with no brothers.
Not white, black, or Latin - this God checks "other".
But don't fit Him in our boxes. He has no mother.
And at His creations, we stare in wonder.
From the setting sun to the rising tide,
From the highest peaks to the lands' divide,
From the Challenger Deep to the deepest sky,
Creation spreads the fame of the Lord on high.
Now face down, I am entranced with the thought
That this God would call me holy like his priceless, sinless Son.
And more than a servant, He has made me one
co-heir with Christ, rejoicing in what He has done.
Examine the bride:
The world calls her a dirty girl in a dirty dress,
Full of sins not confessed and problems to address.
Many do not even call her a damsel in distress,
And concentrate only on her failures to impress.
The law is extensive. Even to focus on ten,
We would still break each commandment given then.
Liars, lusters, rebels - from each infant to each man
Whether living in
On that final day, we cannot point to house or lands,
Only to our Scapegoat who fulfilled the law's demands.
We could never walk next to Him along the ocean sands.
Each second, He carried us in His holy, nail-pierced hands.
And we make much of the Bridegroom:
The King of Glory, eternally co-existing with His Father,
Three in one with the Spirit in perfect pleasure. Why bother
To walk terra firma as a mortal man?
How could
The Author of the law gave Him as sufficient grace.
This upholder of stars, planets, and interstellar space
Laid aside His glory to take on a fleshly case
And cast off our sins as far as east from west - erased.
He has named us sons and daughters of His own
And His perfect rule will never be overthrown.
Even as we think of sonship, are there tears,
Especially when our misdeeds large appear?
In this world, until we claim the shining Prize,
Realize that our joy comes through mournful eyes.
When You died there were stripes from a whip and thorns
Composed Your crown as You submitted to this storm
Of wrath for sin - our failures to conform.
Yet there, our lengthy process to transform
To future glory will be done - no more lukewarm.
We will see why You, Lord, suffered in this form:
Diamonds shine as coal compared to how Your bride will be adorned.
Each jewel of her necklace shines brighter than dawn.
Pure are her ways now. To her Savior she's drawn.
Joy on her face replaces her shame woebegone.
Once acting like Hester, she walks in like Esther,
Perfectly arrayed, with each scarlet letter gone!
What is it like to always live in the third heaven
with the Prince of Peace and no need for the weapons
of this war to kill sin, since temptation will die
and we will more clearly see the Christ's glorious eyes?
[This was inspired partially by Paul Washer's sessions on The Son's Glory (first session here) and a tweet by John Piper. I am also tweeting now.]