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Craig Daugherty Jan 2012
I am made for more than drudgery of world,
Each day awake, struggle out of bed,
To one more day, a difference I try
To make.

Within myself, a struggle for the ages, as past
Mistakes remind me of a life lived in
Failures of my mind, unable to please
God or man.

So aimlessly I wander through life, within a
Mess of questions, of motives, of
A purpose divine, planted perhaps upon
My soul.

I search, a little, here and there, for purpose,
Setting my soul in a dance of ages
With One divine, to reconcile world,
Myself to Him.

All around, I move in midst of walking dead,
Enslaved to sinful selfishness, chains
Binding against the Created One that
Loves, sets free.

Eyes to the soul filled with depth of pain, masked
By a bellyful of emptiness served up
On promises of Prince of this world, the
Evil serpent.

Everywhere, voices cry out in silent terror, unheard
By owner, enemy of God, stuck in their
Own mire of hopeless despair , no reason
To live on.

Too often, I choose not to hear, not to respond to
His creation crying for redemptive love,
Too caught up in my own selfish desires,
No time to care.

My praise is empty, as thoughts of God go rushing
By, ignored by one too caught up in comfort,
Self, content to live a life, not God’s, but my
Empty own.

So, each morn, a drudgery ensues, such little joy,
Wondering why this emptiness threatens to
Fill, to overwhelm a God-sized call, a purpose
That is mine.

One more day, one more tick of eternity drawing
Near; a spiritual zombie I become, no
Breath of life, no joy, such little presence, daily,
Of the Divine.

He draws me close, in love-filled rage, hurting for my
Soul, as it wanders once again, far from His
Presence of life and joy, grace and love, He
Wishes to display.

My life, it is my own. No, it is His—He has paid the
Price, poured out His wrath upon the Son,
Covered in my sin; my life is forfeit, He has
Given me His own.

I hear now the voices—the voices of the dead, the
Unredeemed—crying out for life as Spirit
Divine begins a work from beginning of time,
To draw to Him.

I am made for more than drudgery of world,
Each day awake, to share with those
Who are dead in sin—of life, of joy—to
Share the grace that comes only from

--To come alive
--to break the chains of sin
--to live forevermore in Him.

I am made for more than drudgery of world.

I am made for Him!
Craig Daugherty Dec 2011
People going, the wind blowing dust across a grace-parched land…

A lone soul, walks wearily through the land, a threadbare
Jacket protecting against the wind, the dust, the hurt
Spread out cross the vast, dry Mexican plain.
All around, people go here and there, directions to nowhere
Their destinations of choice—filled with hurt, pain,
From a divine relationship broken beyond hope of repair.
The lone man, unnoticed by most, rambles on, slowly, a
Destination laid out from foundation of time, no hurry
It seems, against backdrop of eternity.
The sound of voices, children’s, float lazily on afternoon
Air, belaying the urgency of love’s design, as a
Soccer ball flies through the air.

Yet He walks on. Not time in His plan of things to come. Yet
He prays for children, so young, unaware of Father’s love.
His pace quickens, unseen by all, as a lone dog, a stray, barks
A voice of hunger, echoing the spiritual thirst of dying world.
All around Him creation groans, SCREAMS, of hurts, of pain, of
Death’s eternal grip on long lost souls of this world.
Yet He walks on. Tears fill His aged eyes, as love seems ripped
From His soul—the coat pulled tighter still.
He stops, a moment, no more, as if sensing a smell of
Sin-soaked death upon gentle breeze; continues on.
He listens, He walks, as He talks with Father alone—a communion
So sweet, He knows—ignored, rejected, available to all.
Yet He walks on. A crying baby, pierces the sky—the air—down
To His soul. A physical hunger born of poverty’s despair.
A bus passes by, filled with souls; a few He knows. Oh, how He
Longs to know them all—His heart aches for those lost—ALONE!
His eyes search the sky, a sign He’s almost there—evil presses in, yet
Does not dare invade His space—His holiness divine.
Yet He walks on. A journey so divine. His heart quickens, so in tune
With Father’s will called out from heaven above.
Humanity, all alone in busiest of streets, of towns, goes passing
By, each soul a precious reminder of sacrifice that paid the price—
Ignorant of grace come down, each life hurries on, scurries past the
One that brings life; victories death—hurt no more.
Yet He walks on. A mission from above lived out below—divine
Appointment at the intersection of life—at holy time.
One lone soul cries out for touch, divine, complete brokenness in
Order to make whole—so together, yet all alone.
That lone soul, he searches on, looking for a purpose, a reason for
A life, so wasted it seems, on passions of this world.
Yet He walks on. Destination closer still. His journey’s end
Marks beginning of life for all around.
He cries His tears of joy as horizon brings to focus His journey,
His destination soul to capture once again.
The lone soul looks up, drawn once again to a love divine,
he lost somewhere amongst a ministry to Him.
Yet He walks on. Drawing closer still. Eyes meet—eternal
Capturing those of such a shattered soul.
A life laid bare—walls broken down all around—as piece
By piece He peers deep into my soul.
I cry out, missing now that grace of the One divine, as it
Reaches to my heart, my soul—worship now my God!
Yet He walks on—now by my side. “Unclean!” I realize now—
He clothes me in His righteousness of praise.
A life restored, mine, through sacrifice of His upon that
Cursed cross that brings life blessed—eternal kind.
Praise flows to know that my Creator chose—He loves me
So—dressed now in pure white—His robes.
Yet we walk on. So much hurt He shows as now I see
Through eyes of God—divine—lost souls—He knows.

People going, the wind blowing dust across a grace-parched land…
Craig Daugherty Nov 2011
Focus on the pain, as life goes rolling by—
The darkness shreds my soul, leaving
A trail of ***** soul-crumbs wherever I tread,
A testament to pain endured.

His love-grace comes thundering down, drowning
Me in Presence divine; hope like an eternal
Flame flickering bright in midst of wind-swept
Plains, still throwing out its light.

A wanderer, I am—restless in the thoughts of life, a
Seeming never-ending search for meaning,
For comfort, for light. So I move on, neither here
Nor there—lost, alone!

His light follows, goes ahead; a beacon searching,
Spilling forth the way one step beyond,
Along the path of my life—the life He
Gives, desires that I live.

An attempt to hide, I flee this path of life, of destiny
Laid out before—to live a life my own, it
Seems. Further away—the light begins to
Fade—as darkness cloaks my soul.

Yet up ahead, flickering in the midst of heavy
Limbs, of trees of worries, fears—the
Light is there still—ahead! I see it behind,
Before—never leaves?

I’m His, I know, the light testifies to presence
Divine; chasing off my soul-darkness still.
My soul repaired, I wander to His love, His arms—
Focus on His love as life goes rolling by…
Craig Daugherty Nov 2011
A path seldom walked, it seems, overgrown by the broken
Things of this world, scattered here and there ,
Threatening to remove clear light found so deep,
So bright, at its destination end.

Where I am called, I think, by the divine, heavenly
Counsel above, to wait for feet which soon will
Tread upon this trail laid from foundation of
World, created for this moment, this meeting Divine.

So I wait, upon a bench of prayer, placed along side
By spiritual hand, knowing by chance encounter,
Laid out from beginning of time; I sit, I pray
Encounter living God, nourished by His Word,
His plan—His hope, makes mine!

I notice now, that here by bench upon which respite
Comes, paths diverge, goes every way which
Feet may trod, while still I sit, and pray, and
Wait, as those go by, no connection still, He
Enters in, through Spirit, Holy, divine!

One path is huge, and easy staggered down, no resistance
Found. The way that many want, of comfort,
Ease it seems, yet leads only to the stagnant
Waters of this world, of brokenness profound,
A bellyful of emptiness offered all around.

Others not so wide, not so easy a stroll, yet still leads
To pitfalls, shattered lives, cracked, ruined,
Destroyed. Leads to defeat, but to the feet
Walking along, not so easy to see. But lives
Crushed are offered on its way.

So, still I sit and watch, wonder why I’m here when
All surrounding me, people go, not realizing
He has put me here, as a guide, knowing path
To blissful life, a heavenly price, a toll, already
Paid by One that came, is yet to come.

I see the path, some take, bright light upon their lift-up
Face. Cool breezes of rest, refreshment, come
Tumbling down. I want to scream for all to
Take, but heavenly hand tells me to wait;

Something inside, it stirs my soul, speaks so clear,
So encouraged to my heart; a spark of His
Reflection consumes my desires, my dreams,
And makes me only His. Time is soon, I
Know—I watch with His given eyes.

I see a soul, so lost, so broken, alone, come staggering
Down this path of life upon which I’m called
To sit; to pray; to wait. I gaze upon this life—
A life of knowing defeat, without hope it
Seems—my  heart breaks as does His.

A connection made, as eyes meet, mine full of life,
Comes from Him, with eyes that know no
Peace, no calm, no serenity; eyes that are
Searching for meaning and purpose, and
Above all else, unconditional love!

The One speaks to me, my soul responds, as slowly I
Rise from this bench of mine—I seek this
Lost soul, to find a connection only He can
Provide—to walk with, to guide, to hopefully
Choose this path of life.

This lost soul, a boy so young, so broken still,
Misses the path I so long for him to take,
Choosing death, destruction, empty promises
Of Prince of this world, whispers seductively
Into his ear; he listens—Treachery!

But still, the One speaks to me, prods me to go down
The path with him for just a while. I’m scared!
Assurances come from up above, that His
Guide, His Spirit, will accompany us as we
Seek, we see, what brokenness this world offers.

I realize now, this path divine, as I look around, take
In, learn; this path can be found all along this
Path of life. And so I’m called to walk alongside
Those who do not know, who will not find, unless
Drawn by Spirit divine.

So I walk for now with this lost soul, on a journey of life,
In hopes that He will use me to introduce to path
Of heavenly hope, of lives made clean. He chooses
Wrong path now, but, oh, the hope of broken one
Discovering that path divine.
Craig Daugherty Nov 2011
I awake to a world filled with black and white—
only a splash or two of color here
and there—a world broken, a wasteland
in which I wander, lost, alone.

Brokenness all around; “Is this all there is?”
I wonder; “Is this the way it should be,
the way it must be”—a reflection of
my ever darkened soul.

“Who am I?” I cry out into the mirror of this
world, hating those empty, hurt-soaked
eyes staring back at me. I’m alone,
broken, hope flees.

Despair invades that hope-fled space, all
corners of my soul; my cancerous
hearts threatens to implode—only a
scream of pain brings solace of sorts.

“Who am I?” I scream as I journey through
my days—the city sidewalks seem
filled with walking dead—I pause
now as I reflect.

“Who am I?” I whisper from so deep within.

“Who am I?”

I am the broken one
--so drenched in fear

I am the one from a broken home
--­an orphan of the world

I am the one so overwhelmed
--no where to turn
--no one I truly can call friend

I am the sick, afraid of death…

I am the one without a mother;
--the one abused, and used,
--so bruised by the world.

I am the forgotten, the one who cannot forgive—
worse yet, unable to be forgiven.

I am the unloved,
--unable to love
--filled with lust
--consumed by hate
--What is love?

“That’s who I am?”

The world goes cruising by, leaving me
even more than alone, more confused—
I am in the darkness now. I scream
out, aloud…

“Show me the way!!!”

Darkness surrounds, despair abounds!

Slowly, a light appears, two paths

One path promises more of the same, this
world, oh so much more of the
same—promises everything, delivers
NOTHING: delivers pain, despair.

This path is safe, feels so secure. It
beckons, it calls—oh yes, I see,
even now the pain, the brokenness, the
emptiness seems to recede—as a life
lived numb—not living at all.

Another path calls, almost missed, the colors,
the life, scares me away, so filled
with hope and dreams. UNKNOWN! But
pain. “Danger,” my soul screams. A
path not safe, but, oh so good.

It hits, I understand…I think.

A cross across the path

A pool of healing
--of redemption
--of worth
--of relationship
--of life, of purpose, of call…

Filled with meaning now—a healing pool
beckons to remove years of hurt,
years of broken, empty living. Each
layer removed—a primal roar of healing

I see others walking a path filled with black
and white—only a splash of color here
and there—a world broken, a wasteland
in which they wander….

Perhaps I’ll tell them of this new path I found…

— The End —