Creative Writings

O Righteous Father, your Earth cries in pain
For upon her roaring seas and in her cities,
Sinking into the desert sand and deep in the forest,
The blood of the slain calls for justice,
For the Holy One of Israel,
Who promised long ago to come with flaming fire,
Who guaranteed justice would flow down like waters
Who humbled the Kings of Babylon, brought down the Pharoahs of Egpyt,
Silenced the songs of Tyre and shut the mouths of the proud.
Let your will be done and make war on all sin,
Through the furious wrath You guarantee
And through the merciful sanctification of Your people
By the power of Your Holy Spirit.

The Earth grows weary of her travail,
Of the violences we commit,
Of the gifts we profane,
Of our blasphemies,
Of our lusts,
Of our lies,
Of our idols.
Free your Creation from her bondage
And all those who put their trust in You.
To them, grant them the grace of holiness
So that they may walk in Your ways
And live by Your truth.

Lord God, I have not put my hope in anyone but You,
Be mindful of my lowliness.

No score and three years ago
I came to the Bible Belt
Where churches are custom as Scions
And as holy, Catholic and apostolic
As Gander in Turkey Creek.
Smiling faces, all from Atlanta, line the bookshelves,
All wearing ties
With seven simple stupid steps
To finding God’s will for your life.
I never knew it was lost;
The red letters must have missed something.
After all, Jesus was only a man.
Too many are chained not just to sin
But to an altar call at age eight,
A cultural Christianity,
A simple prayer lost in the decades of addiction,
Freed from righteousness.

At this crossroads, some would want a new foundation,
A new sensation to ring in the tribes, tongues and nations.
I want the old one,
The one crying in the wilderness,
The one of glorious, green, groaning, growing gardens of Creation,
The one of parted seas,
The one of Calvary’s tree,
The one of Golgotha’s altar bloodier than the blot red altars of Leviticus’ priests,
The river from His hands, His head, His feet
Like Moses’ plagued Nile flowing anew,
As Watts once wrote, “Did e’er such love and sorrow meet?”
God gets no glory out of your best life now
But out of this:
To take the curse and blot out my shame,
Holy God in perfect love became
Perfect man to bear my blame.
The wrath of God towards sin in one man,
While still sinner, Christ died for us.

The stone the Bible Belt builders have rejected
Has become the cornerstone.
Lay that, and you’ll find one holy, Catholic apostolic Church.

Where do you go
When the megachurches close
And you’re late for mosque
Or still have desire?
Does suffering merit a crutch?
I know Nasir and Shawn and the guy with a teddy bear fetish
Get along just fine loving the world and everything in it,
Though they lean on record sales and worldliness’ marketability.
Is there one alive who leans on nothing,
Whom you can lean on?
If there’s one, we’d hang him high
Out of jealousy
Because he knew freedom.

I would love to get this illustrated book one day. John Piper’s poetry based on the Old Testament book Job will challenge our heart response. This is a beautiful glimpse of God’s grace on those suffering.

www.jobthebook.com

Am I just wrapped up in the words
Or do I sincerely know?
Have I believed what they have heard¹
Are my sins washed as white as snow?²

There’s something uplifting in the tune,
A kid could lose himself to the beat.
Another shall be “saved” real soon
Despite his future in eternal heat.

Let it not be that I depart from thee,
Or lose sight of the radiance³
For hands held high don’t make me see.
I could be taken by an ambulance

To a bed of terrors, horrors, frights
Chained to suffering and turn my face.
Your face, your love brings me light⁴
And takes the sinner’s disgrace by grace.⁵

1. Isaiah 53:1 [↩]
2. Psalm 51:7, Isaiah 1:18 [↩]
3. Hebrews 1:3 [↩]
4. Revelation 1:16, John 4:4-5 [↩]
5. 1 John 2:2, Hebrews 2:17 [↩]

When I think of the world and how close her death is,
The passions of men arbitrarily assigned,
Her moans and groans disturb me
Because the responsibility for them is mine.
Oh, how I deny the blood my hands have shed,
Though on me she’s bled, its deep red
Staining my robes and flooding the thoughts of my head.
She’s dead.
And who here in her graveyard will judge me?
Who here living to die another day will cuff me?
For they too have seen that dagger before them,
The handle before their hands.
Far more ignominious than the ”A” of Hester Prynne,
On that dagger’s an “s” for sin.
We win,
At least for a time.
But there’s retribution for the crime
And hope only remains because a greater one has died.

I want an infinite tablet to write my love and loyalty upon.
For when I hear Your voice I have not
the space to write the words:
of gratitude, of remorse, of joy.
Worldly wisdom begs me to leave,
but while the mountains bow and the tides cease
Your words outlast them, outrun them
like Secretariat on another Derby run.
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Oh God, who is endless in mercy and patience,
help me to see my salvation,
for nowhere in this Mordor may I find it.
You work and endure forever;
Your statutes and commands last forever;
Your cross’ power endures forever.
How happy is the man who built his foundation on the Rock.
From there, he will never budge,
though waves assault and winds wage war.
You alone are the matchless king
who is quick to bless and quick to rise for justice.
I deserve Your justice carried out upon me,
but a Savior took my place.
May I remember Him even in my lust,
my idolatry, my unfathomable sin.
How happy is the man who dwells upon the Rock.
Lord, make me that man.

When you hear the word “dream” what do you think of? What kind of image do you associate with such a word?

Is it a sweet sports car? A fancy house? A beautiful husband/wife? A resort in Cancun? Lots of money?

When I think of the word “dream,” I get an image of an enormous sphere made of water, like the earth. Electricity is surrounding it as water constantly flows on it’s surface. The sphere grows larger and larger.

I suppose my question is, how is your dream doing? How large is it? Why do you dream it?

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As I grow older, I find myself enjoying things I once dismissed. It is at this time, when I’m beginning college, that I find myself enjoying independence. I walk all over campus by myself, not because I couldn’t easily call a friend to hang out with, but because I am seeking God in a new way.

The other day I went to UT’s main library. I specifically left my dorm and made the journey there for the purpose of traveling to the 6th floor (the very top one). I felt called to go because I was searching for something. I wanted to be captivated. As I got onto the elevator, I pressed the 6th floor button and it stopped on another floor before reaching the 6th. A woman walked in holding some books and she saw that I was the only one there and was headed for the 6th floor. She turned to me:
“So, obviously if you are going to the 6th floor you are either a graduate student, or looking for books written by (an author) like me.”


As I walked off the elevator I said, “actually, I just wanted to see the view.”

We parted ways and I saw her turn back and look at me for a few seconds. I walked to the large windows past desks and grad students and I stared out of the library. It was beautiful. The entire campus was alive and I looked out at a gorgeous blue sky with buildings reaching up. I looked down at large trees that had been on campus for decades. And for a moment, I was captivated.
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