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Jennifer Weiss Oct 2015
Is like biting off a piece of sadness.
I cannot comprise,
but I can surely feel their madness.
I love them all to pieces,
and I just want them to be safe.
I want them to know, for sure,
what's waiting for them in their fate.
I want to shout about the gospel,
tell everyone who breathes.
Jesus is their Savior,
the only one they need.
Only Jesus saves.
So what can I do?
ConnectHook Sep 2015
Seated in a window was a young man named Eutychus,
who was sinking into a deep sleep as Paul talked on and on.
When he was sound asleep, he fell to the ground from the third story
and was picked up dead.
     [Acts 20:9]


Ye Olympian poets, hearken well
while the fall of a tragic youth I tell.
My Lydian lay, unsung by Homer
in pastoral ages far and former
shall warn and chasten your Patrician ears
recalling bygone Hellenistic years.
Pardon the insufficient gravitas –
the intention here is not blasphemous…

Saul, since Damascus and the desert days
had progressed to his apostolic phase;
a minor Asian town, Trojan Troas
lent him their ears. What we came to know as
Western Judeo-Christianity
was birthed in near-comic humanity.
But Saint Paul was completely serious
feverishly focused, quite delirious.

And so the first story he narrated-
second, then a third story related,
foreshadowing from Moses’ law the Christ
and Gentile nations grafted in, or spliced
as shoots from a wild rebel olive tree;
the Eternal One who is Trinity…
and many other holy mysteries
he taught and unlocked with scriptural keys.
By his third story, some eyelids fluttered
the lamps burned low while his truths were uttered.
The allure of Aegean night was deep –
but he offered something greater than sleep.
Among them one languished, barely alert,
a young (very tired) Grecian convert.

Eutychus nodded, his frame lightly propped,
in the night-freshened window. He had stopped
heeding Saint Paul who was preaching Jesus…
and thus he surrendered to Morpheus.

Unfortunate, weary, his tired head nods;
still exegeting from beyond, Paul plods.
Finally, the liminal threshold reached
E. falls – to encounter the power Paul preached.
His toga billowing as he plummets
from peaks of Christological summits,
he descends to gather cryptic renown
and a dubious New Testament crown.

Was E. bored to death by St. Paul’s discourse?
Descending from grace – did he stay the course?
Was his revival a first holy fruit –
or an arrival by alternate route?
One wonders, in retrospect- was he saved?
or is this a picture of mankind, depraved
fallen in slumber, oblivious, dead
until Truth’s unkindness touches our head…
Like Lazarus, this one had to die twice
We ask: how many more deaths would suffice?
Did he talk to the Lord while departed?
Could he fathom what Jesus had started?
Like Luke’s blind man, the sin was not his own,
but that God’s power be openly shown.
For his pains: a two-fold resurrection
rebirth through Paul and divine election.
(Unless the whole thing was allegory –
mere Jewish fable or pagan story…)
Don’t censure my Lydian levity
nor discount apostolic gravity
lamenting the youth bored to death by Paul;
we discern, in Eutychus, our own fall.
Revived, he learned, before the rest of us,
the difference between Christ and Morpheus.

If there be details still to verify
or vague scenarios to modify,
we shall, in heaven, request to hear it
from the lips of Eutychus’ own spirit.
(And then we can corroborate with Paul
The how and the who and the wherewithal.)
Read all about it in Acts, chapter 20
Name Redacted Aug 2015
I speak in tongues of men and angels, I speak as a man that knows the angles. I rhyme truth melodically, with my methodology, my words convicting you this is no mythology. And as tides of tithes flood our church like Jordan, the lives of lies, my tongue has shortened. So let's ask the Ghost of the Most-High, high above I, to bless this mission, this mission of mine.

(Are you sold? Are you inspired? By this sorcerer peddling his strange fire? Are you scared? Are you mired? By the weight of this second-rate evil-inspired rant that can't won't couldn't shouldn't be found profound by us when by Christ it wouldn't? The "broken bonds" of this sounding gong are just more chains, just empty song)

I've loved, lived, lost!
(But burned the cross.)
I've spoke and swayed!
(At disastrous cost.)

I've sung the hymns!
(So did the Devil)
Filled our church with gold!
(The softest metal.)

I fought back the dark!
(But it left it's mark)
Laid all at the altar!
(That's still awaiting a spark)

I witnessed to the street!
(On a weak foundation.)
Was given the the finest things!
(And moth and rust will take them.)

(It was never about what he could do, what glory can God take when who is seen is you? His “my’s” and “I’s” can’t save the lost, his “my’s” and “I’s” put Him on the Cross! Man can only save what gold can buy, and in the end owns nothing but gilded lies. You've seen his path, and where it leads. Do you see now that it's from you you're freed? Not debt, not pain, not loss or strife, but the crushing weight of your debauched life?

The Son will not impart what this man asks, for to leave you the world is not His task. For we are born, but do not live, until we surrender that which was not ours to give.)
Ignatius Hosiana Jul 2015
I plant where I dig
Faith is my fig
It might take long
But hope keeps me strong
Might not know where I'm headed
Might even get beheaded
Yet I ain't scared
My heart might be scarred
But I'll keep on hoping
They think my life boring
Cause their champagnes always popping
I talk of someday wedding
They believe in eloping
Yet I won't let that shake me
They got sticks and heavy stones
They ain't gonna break me
Though they might fracture my bones
That will be a hell of delay
But they cannot stop destiny
In the lords army as I pray
Here we've got no mutiny
Some ask me of what importance
Is a God who is invisible
They call it renaisance
Yes, it don't make sense
Though we're immiscible
I try to reach out to them
Try to help them go across
From fatal games
To respecting He who died on their cross
Yes He who rose
Trying to **** out the gross
But they don't understand
That It's hard ground where I stand
And they're drowning holding straws
Rhea Sheilah Jun 2015
It is now
It won’t be tomorrow
Or the next day-
When I choose to live
Free from bad thoughts of any kind
I decide to live free like a flying bird
Standing on the promises
Of my only reason for living
My creator and provider

Neither today,
Nor tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come
Will my life be mine any more
And won’t be yours either
I belong to him
Who loved me to death
He who wasn’t ashamed to give his precious son
That in him I may be redeemed and justified

I know I was a gentile
But He cared less about circumcision by the men
What he wanted was for my soul not to perish
I love because I was first loved….

It’s so sweet to be in love
With assurance that you will never be betrayed
Those tough times are an opportunity
To exercise your faithfulness to the maximum

To feel the sweetness of a true friend
That is ever present
And whose ear is always open to my calling
And whose gentle arm is always ready to hold me when I bend
For I have no promise of breaking
All the days of my life
As long as I still have Him as my rock
I will stand firm and strong
Oh how I love your tenderness!- ABBA FATHER
John 8:36
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
Sally A Bayan May 2015
After church that night,
i had no ride, there were no lights
Just walked determinedly...
That no harm would accost me
That no raindrops upon me would fall
Were my prayers, my most fervent calls,
I played deaf to howling dogs
Never mind the croaking of the hiding frogs
I had no cane to wag or shoo away the dogs that followed
But i grew cold, I knew they were breathing, these faceless shadows
I had no more strength in store
But fear melted and came out of my pores
I believed, someone unconquerable kept my fears at bay      
While a pearly full moon, lighted my way.

The road was still long, and sloping
And i sensed the rain coming
But how could it happen tonight
With a moon in sight?
For some reason, i looked up and it was gone!  
Couldn't see, even a spoon-shaped one
There was just a soft beam,
Shedding dismal light, it had seemed.

And i,  was now catching my breath---

Almost all was hushed by the darkness
But, all took light, as i passed by neighbors' houses
Under the navy blue sky, the wind gave a not so gentle blow
I looked up, saw my pearly moon back...i was led home, by a glow.

The glow...His words, shone bright upon me,
though i saw dark, the Glow from the Gospel, guided me
they echoed that night of anticipated mass:
"If you remain in me and my words in you, then you will ask
for anything...and you shall have it.."  
He kept me safe, and so be it
God's words proved so true
From fear and danger, He delivered me, He got me through...

          (Happened the night of May 2, 2015...)



Sally

Copyright May 22, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan




*** "If you remain in me and my words in you, then you will ask
for anything...and you shall have it.." John 15: 7  ***
Jennifer Weiss May 2015
They sang let it be,
we didn't even know what it meant.
It means Amen! on the highest,
glory be to them,
who pray for their heart's desires
who go big, who expect to win.
Because Jesus is watching on the sidelines
hoping you say those simple words
that let Him in.
See, the God up above us cares less about your sin-
He wants to bless you! Wants to grow you!
Wants to flood you with Joy from within.
See- as you have believed
He will let it be!
That is why the faith sized as small as a mustard seed,
is all you really need.
You gotta believe! :) :)
Asa D Bruss Apr 2015
It seems I run here
as if it were a confession booth;
concerning looseness of eye or brokenness of tooth.
I find my penance here
I find my penance here
and now constantly
and concertedly I understand.
What I can see to be sin is simply a symptom
it is not the disease
and it is not a matter of debt, but lack of income.

I have taken no pleasure in my beloved.
Where is my joy? Is it not in the Lord and the fullness thereof?
I have been fighting a battle already lost.
To pursue to imbue in myself a passion
while the stone of my heart remains as a frost.
Striding for the ends to produce means has no ration.

When I read that faith without works is dead
and then pursue works to produce faith
I'm dead.
Give it a like if you need the gospel every **** day. Just one more time he's put my nose in it to make me realize.
Abby Elbambo Apr 2015
What is it with four letters?
That mere intersections of lines and loops
Of curves and edges
Of creations of ballpoint pens
Have managed to spell the faces of the voices that keep me up at night

P-A-I-N. Pain was the story of age 5
The reverberation of the door slammed shut
It is the sound of my mother’s wails and my father’s rage
It is the sight of skin kissing skin in the most unromantic of ways

H-E-L-P. Help were the tears that have run dry from age 16
The tugs and pulls, of scratching to hold on to anything and everything
They were of hand after hand that stretched only to push and silence the crying of the girl left with nothing
They were the stares that spat on my face, whose breathe have filled my lungs with words
Which said, “you are not enough” , “you are a mistake”, “you will never be more than your failures,”

L-I-E-S. Lies are the roommates that have taken over my bed at age 21
They were the tags that came with the packages of death and failure
It tells me bedtime stories of fault and regret until I dream of only those
It is the gate that have forced its way to barricade my heart because my heart; no, my life; no, my existence is undeserving of interactions outside these walls

What is it with four letters?

D-O-N-E. Done is the selection of ropes and blades, of bullets and train rails at 23
It is finally believing in the bedtime stories of defeat and condemnation
It is stepping on that last rock, layers above creations worth saving more than I
But no, done is the shadow that stretched into my vision
It is the intersection of two lines that drew a gap between my feet and the fall
It is the truth of the fallen and the risen that have tilted my head to look back
At nail pierced hands that have been embracing me all along

R-A-I-N. Rain was the prayer I said at age 25
It is the drops of red that dripped from places in His body that are now just scars of triumph
It is the ocean that kisses the shore anew a million times a day
K-N-O-W. Know was I never forgotten
It is the realization of a presence that have charted my life’s story since day 1

What is it with four letters ?
What is it with four letters?
Wait, what is IN four letters?

H-O-P-E. Hope is man redeemed
It is the truth pain have tried to numb us of and lies have tried to replace our memories with
Hope is glorious substitution, it is of spared lashes and whips
It is the inhale and exhale of a man enduring
Of steps- right, left, right, left- of a body stained with blood untouched by this world of gravel and dirt

Hope was of a baby born on straws resting on earth’s grounds
Hope is from His last breathe, a scandalous end that exhaled life into a new beginning
It is Chapter 3 of an “undeniability” that defeat is a myth refuted by an empty tomb
Hope is redemption from resurrection, deliverance from remembrance
Love and grace eternal
Forgiveness impartial like fire that consumes all sides: past, present, future- the done, doing, and did

Hope is Christ taking flesh to save a creation unworthy but loved still
An irrationality made reality
Accept that this is not the end, that life may have moved without you but the Author of life has never failed to write you in each time
So stand today with an authority respired by Christ and rebuke the sayings and said
Of screams and whispers by your stories of ages 5, 16, and 21

Know that you are the King’s beloved, paid by a price with an amount that transcends infinity
Darling, hope is a four letter word written in strokes that spell L-O-R-D
And as everlasting as those letters spell is hope as eternal
So place a cross on your front porch
So next time pain and lies pay you a visit, they’ll know that your home is not of bricks and stones but of a body lined with bones and flesh of man who have conquered their master who is death

Bask in the divine, it is finished
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