Monday, August 27, 2012
"There's something so beautiful about a man's life
Something so remarkable about his inward strife.
There's something that fills us as we read about the saints of old
Something that makes us inspired, encouraged, bold.
We read and hear of their failures and falls
We see how yet again they rise up, giving it their all.
By their faithful endurance we are greatly inspired
In their great spiritual battles we see them fight against how they were wired.
There's something so beautiful about their past, stained with blood
And yet something so crumbling about how along with Christ they've been dragged through the mud.
Oh how we see such worth in a life spent out for Christ
Oh how that Holy Name has cost them such a price.
But to see joy in a man's life marked with excruciating pain,
To know that all his loss has turned into gain.
What incredible paradoxes we are able to see in a single life
What courage God can produce against the gun and knife.
What a legacy God has made them leave behind
Their passion for God was the fire that made it shine
The dark clouds lingering above them could but threaten to tear them apart
The dreary storm not reflecting their glad heart.
So let us remember that we stand on the shoulders of giants,
Who never backed down from the wicked tyrants
Let us know the motivation for the lives they had,
Let us not look at their lives to be sober and sad.
But be encouraged to know that in darkest times their brightest light was produced,
Be inspired to see how they were from this world cut loose.
Be motivated to have your whole spent for God,
And in ages to come, up to the Scriptures, not be found a fraud.
At the end of our days, let us see a spent and beautiful life just as the saints of old
Oh let our life of passion have an impact to make a new generation bold."
Sunday, August 12, 2012
"For these are the years that I should not live,
These are the breaths I would never give.
So full of weariness and woe
I am living the life I would have ended years ago.
Depression once pulling me down like sinking sand,
My Jesus giving me much more than a helping Hand.
These long days do not belong to me,
Since He was the One who opened my eyes to see.
For these days are less mine than they are His
A miracle to breathe it is
For He has the right to make this life wild,
For He has the right to make me into His suffering child.
No right have I to complain
For from this life I have nothing to gain
If my Saviour chooses to put me in fire
Or to make me walk across a high wire
Then have my soul let it be,
For this very script I love out does not belong to me
My Saviour has brought me and given years I'd never have had
What more can I do but through my suffering try and make Him Glad?"