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Be Jesus to MeBe Jesus to me.
He touched the dirty,
loved the unlovable,
he ate with sinners,
brought God to their midst.

Be Jesus to me.
He brought forgiveness,
not harsh condemnation.
He did not avoid
the world's cast-aways,
the tax collectors, prostitutes,
adulterers and murderers,
thieves, terrorists and all those whom
the just had thrown away.
Be Jesus to me.

But I only see
your pro-life protests,
conservative laws,
accusations,
talking past me
or behind my back;
complaints, not love -
and you don't talk to me.
I am waiting
for a kind word,
a shoulder to lean on,
a listening ear
to pour out my heart

Say NoHis words sound sweet,
his touch makes you shiver,
his kisses go deeper
than your skin.
I see you want more,
you're ready to give in -
but girl
please tell him:
no.

Say no
'cause you're worth more than that,
more than a hasty night or two.
You're more than your body -
does he care for your soul?
Please tell him:
no.

Say no
and don't settle for less,
less than true commitment and love.
Your body is precious -
but would he pay the price?
Please tell him:
no.

Say no
to the man to whom
you're just temporary
throw-away fun.
Say no
to the man whose love
lasts only a moment
and all too soon is gone.
Say no
to the man

Lot's Wife: I Turn AroundIt was easy
when all was fine
and I did not have to choose
between you
and all my other loves.
It was easy
to follow you
when I could have the rest as well.

But now
with the choice before me
I see it was never
easy at all.

And in one moment
I think back
and think of the cost
and what I have to leave.
Family, possessions, home,
all I have known,
all I have loved.
And I think of the things
you want me to let go.

Can I let go
and trust in you -
give it all away
believing
that you return it all
more than a hundredfold?

No.
It is too much.
It is too hard.
I can't give it to you.
Or: I don't want to.

Now that it come

Hannah: The Other WomanForgive these tears -
I can't stop them anymore.
My sadness is an ocean
so deep I cannot eat,
so deep I cannot sleep.

Awake at night I hear them
sometimes, in the room next door -
him and her -
the other woman.
It had to be, he said.
And I understand.
But that doesn't help.
You'll always be my first love, he says.
And I believe him.
But that doesn't help either.
For my problem is not jealousy -
my problem is me.

Who is the other woman?
She, or me?
Who of us fulfills her purpose
as woman and as wife?
Who has done her duty -
and who has had to be replaced?
Are her tauntings true?
Sometimes I think they are
and I cry and

Elisabeth: Barren as a DesertI'd come to terms with it.
No longer cried about it,
though I still felt the pain.
Nor did we talk about it,
though we still felt a pang
every time we saw them:
pregnant women, babies, children.
I'd come to terms with it,
but it still hurt.

It hurt to wonder:
WHY?
It hurt to hear my friends
gossipping behind my back,
questioning why someone
who lives by faith
and walks with God
can go without blessing,
barren
as a desert.

I'd come to terms with it.
We no longer even tried.
We hardly even prayed -
it was too late anyway.
I'd come to terms with it -
I had no other choice.
I trusted you knew
what you were doing,
though

Delilah: The Secret of your WeaknessDid they not warn you,
o Man,
that woman is dangerous?
Did they not tell you
she would lure you into her web,
wrap you round her little finger,
conquer you to be her slave?
Did they not warn you,
o Man?

But you thought yourself strong,
and thought womankind weak.
You thought you conquered me,
thought you possessed my heart,
thought I was yours,
trembling in your hand.
Did they not warn you,
o Man?

Tell me, o Man,
the secret of your strength,
and I will tell you
the secret of my weakness.
Tell me, o Man -
let it slip
like honey from your lips,
like the kisses you give
unsparingly -
they prove nothing,
they cannot prove your love.
Tell me, o

Believe and ObeyBelieve and Obey

I want you
To talk to them about me
A whisper sounds in my ear

But what if they
Don’t want to hear
I argue back

Talk to them
I will be your words
The whisperer replied

I’m scared
What if they want to hurt me?
I argue back, fear dictating my voice

Have courage
I am here with you
The whisperer loving said

Taking a deep breath
And a gulp
I walked forward

It’s easy to believe
But it’s hard to obey
Every time

A Prayer of ThanksgivingThanksgiving is the time for looking back and being thankful.
And for all the blessings You have given me...
Dear LORD, I thank You.

Thank You, Dear LORD, for my life.
For giving me an immortal soul and spirit,
For a healthy body and mind.
For the ability to know right from wrong,
For a heart that has always yearned for You.
For all these blessings, Dear LORD, I thank You.

Thank You, Dear LORD, for my relatives and friends.
For giving me two parents and three sisters,
For five nephews and a new niece.
For a baby brother, whom I shall someday meet in Heaven.
For a grandfather for fourteen years, and a grandmother for thirty-o

Noah's WifeNoah's Wife

Mother warned me of men like him,
But then, sense will get overruled
By such ridiculous things
As love.

But that can't save you when your man
Is lost in scribbles and whispers,
Working feverishly on plans
For imaginary storms.

And even I have been deafened
By the sea of sharp whisperings,
Concocted at the gossip wells -
That madness widowed me.

But the rain fell. No vain pleadings,
Or my shouting and silent cries,
My eyes following billowing clouds
As they chased back the sun.

And the rain fell. The ground
Melting into dirty swirls as
Beasts snorted and trott

Prayer for my unborn NieceLord, before you formed her in the womb, You knew her.
Now, before she comes forth from the womb, bless her.

Bless her and keep her,
Bless her and consecrate her,
Bless her and keep her always in Your care.

Let her be strong and healthy,
Let her have a heart for You.

Dorcas: The EndIt was the end,
and all I could think was:
"No Lord! Please!
I'm too young to die,
and I haven't finished sewing
that widow's dress.
And who else will lead
my neighbour to Christ,
and answer her questions,
or continue to teach
these women your word?
I'm too young to die!
Don't take me yet!"

But it was the end,
and there I was, dead,
and all these things
torn from my hands -

How could I forget
that they are in YOURS,
that even without me
you still work on?
My time is held
in your capable hands -
can't I trust YOU to know
better than me where it ends?

It did not end there
after all
for you still have a plan for me.
Y

Eve: Painful LoveHow can it be
that grace and wrath
and wrath and grace
can be so close?

You punish so gently,
and bless so painfully -
will I ever understand,
o God?

As you sent us away
to our deaths,
you made us clothes
to keep us safe.

And though childbirth would be
a punishment for me
you blessed me
with motherhood.

Your love is so undeserved
that it hurts,
and haunts me at night,
at night when I remember.

I scorned you -
you loved me,
even in your wrath.

And maybe that is
the hardest punishment
of all.

Breakthrough The Cycle (Poem)

As the heart aches the mouth profanes
To habits and addictions we've become enslaved
Our frustrations increase as our sin remains
Yet in our strength no progress can be obtained

Only when we are so broken, it's Him we start seeking
The one whom in our suffering has been silently weeping
His words never ceased as He has always been speaking
We ignore that voice that has been internally preaching

He sends out His faithful to testify of a love so great
It is not in His nature to forsake and let you fade away
He is determined to bring you back to that wonderful place
That in your search to fill your heart, you lost the way

Now you sit in worry

Mrs PeterHe comes home
in the middle of the night -
his birthday; I'd cooked
and waited, as it got cold.
He comes home,
shouting, "Darling! Pack! We're going!"
And off we are again
to I-don't-know-where.

He comes home
just before lunch -
I'm in the kitchen, cooking,
for two, but he
brings a crowd, because
"John's got nowhere to go,
and this guy we met today,
and here's his wife,
and look - our new brother!"
(Don't ask me how
our food multiplied.)

Or he doesn't come home,
for days on end,
and I wonder: Is he in prison?
Is he dead?
Or at the other end of the world?
He comes back a month later,
with all sorts of news,
lots of di

Woman at the Well: ThirstyAll my life, I have been longing,
thirsting,
for I knew not what.
I have been waiting,
looking, searching,
but I never find.

I thought my longing
was for security,
the strong arms of a man,
to hide in, protected.
But strength failed me,
and I was left
alone and thirsty again.

I thought my longing
was for riches,
a well-off husband
to grant me every wish.
But money failed me,
and I was left
alone and thirsty again.

I thought my longing
was for pleasure,
the touch of a man,
his warm, fond embraces.
But love failed me,
and I was left
alone and thirsty again.

So I thought my longing
was for a future
won by my man
who

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More from ~deng-li-xin32

VowsHere,
with you,
before the altar,
words fail.

What joys now lie within my grasp -
but oh what fears
that even now
it could all slip away.

For what vow can I make,
what words can I say?
Nothing is enough.
Only this little handful of love,
a paper boat
that capsizes with every wind.
There will be days
when my trust in you
will be smothered by my useless fears,
days
when I will have affairs
with worries and doubts
instead of hiding myself
in your strong arms.

I am not good enugh for this -
my days are doomed
to infidelity
and broken vows
will litter my paths
because I am too weak
to hold your hand.

Here,
with you,

Praise the Lord, O my SoulI want to be a fountain,
bubbling and splashing with joy for you.
I want to be a storm,
praising you from the depths of my being.
I want to be a fire,
consuming myself with love for my Lord.
I want to be a gale,
never silent to glorify your name...

But I'm just a puddle,
with only sometimes a ripple or two;
I'm a grey foggy day,
dampening all song.
I'm just a candle,
flame trembling in the wind,
and only a breeze,
barely whispering your fame.

I want to praise you,
give you glory -
why do I keep on bogging down?
Why can't my heart wake,
like an earthquake atremor,
worship erupting
in glittering flame?
How can my heart st

Unchain Me"Unchain me!" she cried,
"Pull me out of this dark!
How long must I stay
locked away in my fears?
I plead every day,
I beg all the time -
why don't you unchain me?
Why am I not free?"

"My child," he said,
"Do you not see?
Your chains are long gone,
and you've been set free!
Why do you still fear,
and tremble with closed eyes?
It is finished already -
do not be afraid!"

Mrs SolomonMrs Solomon.
Which one?
Number one, number two, number ten?
I think it was forty-something,
At some point,
before he lost count
And said, Who cares?

Some nights
All alone in my room
Among all his gifts
I throw them at the wall,
One by one. Crash.
What am I to you?
Just another number?
A trophy? A prize
To add to your collection?

But those nights
When he calls me to him
And remembers my name
I forgive him;
And when he says
That I'm the only one
I swallow all his lies
Sweeter than honey
Wishing they were true.

Princess ChickenThere was once a princess Paladina
Who lived in the days of old;
Her father was king Gorogglemath
Who sat on a throne of gold.

Then one day she met a peasant boy
While playing with her dragon Gazee.
They fell in love, it was love at first sight,
But an unhappy love it would be.

The king would not allow them to wed,
For a prince she should marry one day.
He banished the boy, sent the girl to her room,
Where she wept for many a day.

As we know many princesses have no brain
And Paladina was one of that kind.
She was crying and moaning and groaning all day
When a bad idea came to her mind.

She ran to the forest to find a good witc

Do Not FearYou who live in doubt,
feeling far away from God -
do not fear,
for God has come near.

You who are insignificant,
feeling ignored and overlooked -
do not fear,
for God was born a child.

You who are poor,
calling out for justice to reign -
do not fear,
for God Himself became poor.

You who are suffering,
feeling forsaken by all -
do not fear,
for God wants to bear your pain.

You who are lonely,
crying out for love and care -
do not fear,
for God Himself will dwell with you.

Oh you who are wandering
in the valley of the shadow of death -
do not fear,
for God has become Man,
has carried our sorrows
and brings us His grace

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Submitted: January 12, 2012
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Bathsheba: Can't Hide from You

by ~deng-li-xin32, Jan 12, 2012, 2:32:53 AM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

What shall I say?
I can't hide from you.
I told myself once
it was not my fault,
that I could not say no
to him, the king -
but no, that was not true.
I could have stood
and kept my vow
even to death -
Was I too afraid?
Did it happen too fast?
I can't hide from you
that I never wanted
to refuse.

And in his arms
I remembered my husband
and was stung by regret.
What can I say?
I can't hide from you
that I chased those regrets
away.
I told myself then
it was all his fault,
that he should have stayed
somehow
instead of leaving
me bored and alone
and easy to tempt.
I can't hide from you
that I knew it was not
the truth.

And then the child.
I don't know what to say.
A gift, a curse?
I couldn't hide from him -
Uriah -
anymore.
I never could hide from you.
I was so afraid.
But I told myself then
it was David's fault:
he should have known better,
thought twice,
left me alone.
I even tried to claim
that he'd tricked me into it.
I can't hide from you
that I allowed him this sin
with pleasure.

And when I heard
Uriah was dead -
oh shame of this thought!
I can't hide from you
that the first thing I felt
was relief.
And that frightened me
and I found
I had no excuses anymore.

Oh Lord of heaven and of earth,
here am I, a sinful child.
I can't hide from you.
And oh! it throws me to the ground,
and still the ground's not low enough,
for all the evil I have done
and have denied till now.

Forgive me, Lord
for not resisting.
Forgive me for not saying NO.
Forgive that I have put the blame
on them - my men -
and not on me.
Forgive me, Lord,
for my relief
the day I heard that he was dead -
oh God, forgive!
I cannot bear it,
can't bear myself,
myself who did
all of these sins,
never confessing that they were wrong.

Can I believe
that your light dawns again,
that you raise me up,
dry my tears,
and make me new?
Can I believe
that you make me a sign
for generations to come
of your mercy, forgiveness
and unfailing love?

Lord, I will believe,
though I deserve it not.
I will believe
and cling to your love
that sees all and yet
does not let me go.

Bathsheba: Can't Hide from Youby ~deng-li-xin32

Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

2 Samuel 11-12 [link]

One can't give all too much blame to Bathsheba, I think, in the whole incident with David. It was him who took her and committed adultery. But was she completely innocent?

I'm not trying to answer that question here - this poem is not so much about whose fault it was, or whether Bathsheba carried any guilt. One of the worst things one can do in a case of abuse is to blame the one who's abused. What this poem is more about, though, is confessing. Because that's something I personally sometimes have trouble with..

There's so many ways to "hide" our failings, even from ourselves, especially by blaming others. It's the first thing Adam and Eve did, after all: "It wasn't my fault, that one made me do it!" It can sound and feel really sensible. But we do have to confess. We only hurt ourselves if we don't!