"unbelief" poems
Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.
“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.
Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.
“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”
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Lord, all I can offer You is a mustard seed of faith.
For I am so full of fear, and doubt, and unbelief.
So addicted to walking by what my eyes see,
I fail to remember that You are the God of impossibilities.
For so many years I've prayed the same prayer,
and it seems as though it remains unanswered.
Then...
I falter.
I faint.
I lose heart.
As what little faith I had,
begins to depart.
I fall on my knees in desperation before Thee,
I cry, "Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!"(Mark 9:24)
Then You tenderly speak to my soul and remind me of this:
All it takes to move a mountain is a mustard seed of faith.
I hold out my hands to You as I pray,
"Here is my mustard seed of faith, Lord.
Take it, for it is all I can offer Thee.
Lord, have mercy, and grant my request.
Even though all I have left
is a mustard seed
of faith."
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
How can I reach the unreachable..
teach the unteachable who's comprehension is unbelieveable
But the fact is unbelief is more than lack of knowledge..
Cause the truth is even Satan knows who God is..
Is it blindness...
truth on deaf ears..
the embracing of silence..
should there be surpises ..
when behind your eyelids enter a random act of violence..
A vision of darkness ..there's no light that why the pupils dilate the use of the iris..
But when use to darkness and the lights hits one close their eyelids..
I.e. Christ the truth the way the light..
Being unsaved is like living in the womb..
Darkness equivalent to that of a tomb..
Flashes of light is like labor contractions..
The unknown conviction hinting..
Considered a distraction..
Pushed out now watch the eyes reaction..
To the light cause from darkness there's a detachment..
If given a chance a adjustment happens..
An embracement of the light..
A rebirth Christ in action.
How can i reach the unreachable..teach the unteachable ..
With a script the director unknown Its more than the shout of action..
Living life like a movie unaware that the villains not acting..
Now could u imagine..
A movie set full of madness..
All the cast dead like really dead from a stabbing..
No equalizer the villain the only one left standing..
You may say excuse me..
Life is not a movie.
Truly
But a witness not performing there duty..is bystander..
No innocence exist...
No bliss in ignorance...
.Cause we all birth into sin.
So many questions with wrong answers given like the truth don't exist....
How can I reach the unreachable
teach the unteachable
who I tell to this body of Christ they should enlist
But when a pass is given and the shot is missed..
It negates the assist..
A reason for the lost of the game..
The thought of a lost soul has me ******
I'm the point guard I help the scorer sustain..
Chris Paul with rock which is the gospel..
Passing the truth like Paul the apostle ..
Too many people out for a win like Christ didn't settle the score...
Adam severed the relationship but Christ rebuilt the rapport...
I am trying to reach and teach but there's no trust any more...
Pointing u in the direction of accepting the Lord..,
Embrace the word of God that double edge sword..
Them cuts is conviction..
The sword swinging is What it means to be a witness..
Led by the spirit A Christian
Yes we are made in Gods image..
Trying to reach every soul because the wins and losses count..
Life is not a scrimmage..
How can one soul have a blemish..
Only dirt that can touch the soul is the ***** hands of sinning..
How can I reach the unreachable teach the unteachable..Who mistakes knowledge for ignorance...
And reject truth because arrogance..
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
I saw the familiar
rose-flush dust
shoot from my
fingertips,
the day
I finally
decided
to snap out of it.
I had forgotten what lived inside me.
I snapped again
at the
worrywart hut
I'd created
for myself
to live in.
And again, once more
for all time
gone
to my mind's
incessant banter
and going-on's
with
the
flirty,
too flirty,
doubting Adonnis.
The fog was heavy,
in its resilience against my
needs
to get it right,
overtaking me in confusion,
making me forget
the reality
that lay beyond it.
Its grip was choking,
sending me reeling
through a
soul-tainting realm
I hated
I knew so well,
grasping
for anything
to hold on to,
anything that
looked
like
Life.
So,
with the moon
tonight,
I weep
for the many suns
sacrificed
to
Unbelief
and
the parts of me
permitted to be
plagued
by
poison
and
malpurpose.
Though,
with the same tears,
I will thank my God
that I can at least
see
what lies
within me
and again, once more
while the moon is still bright
for the gift to feel
remorse.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sov'reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow'r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
2.6k
(Exodus, xvii.15)
By whom was David taught
To aim the deadly blow,
When he Goliath fought,
And laid the Gittite low?
Nor sword nor spear the stripling took,
But chose a pebble from the brook.
'Twas Israel's God and King
Who sent him to the fight;
Who gave him strength to sling,
And skill to aim aright.
Ye feeble saints, your strength endures,
Because young David's God is yours.
Who order'd Gideon forth,
To storm the invaders' camp.
With arms of little worth,
A pitcher and a lamp?
The trumpets made his coming known
And all the host was overthrown.
Oh! I have seen the day,
When with a single word,
God helping me to say,
"My trust is in the Lord,"
My soul hath quell'd a thousand foes
Fearless of all that could oppose.
But unbelief, self-will,
Self-righteousness, and pride,
How often do they steal
My weapon from my side!
Yet David's Lord, and Gideon's friend,
Will help his servant to the end.
2.4k
Dear Lord! accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
The evil it contains.
There fiery seeds of anger lurk,
Which often hurt my frame;
And wait but for the tempter's work,
To fan them to a flame.
Legality holds out a bribe
To purchase life from Thee;
And Discontent would fain prescribe
How Thou shalt deal with me.
While Unbelief withstands Thy grace,
And puts the mercy by,
Presumption, with a brow of brass,
Says, "Give me, or I die!"
How eager are my thoughts to roam,
In quest of what they love!
But ah! when duty calls them home,
How heavily they move!
Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,
Transform me by Thy power,
And make me Thy beloved abode,
And let me roam no more.
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The motorcycle being the ride
God’s word being the preaching stride
The ride leading believers into salvation
The spoken word being God’s own revelation
Faith that Heaven can only create
Unbelief is nothing more than to hesitate
Praying hands with indication needing participation
Then it is the Holy Spirit that gets the world’s attention
God doesn’t need to ride to make his point
He wants us to listen and understand as God’s word speaks
It’s not a twitter with a tweak
It’s not a contest where one competes
It’s pure salvation conquering struggles in defeat
The steps of our footprints
The sun capturing our years from our walk
Echoes from Heaven hearing our every word in talk
The value of understanding
The Bible being the key to knowledge
What has already been spiritually kicked in
It becomes the continued walk until days end.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
Life’s obstacles can only delay us
from achieving our God-given purpose;
instead of becoming frustrated, we
should look to Christ and just focus
on the underlying issues in prayer.
Obstacles may perfect personal traits,
like having peace by waiting on Him,
so that our hearts are not deflated.
They kick up dust, blinding our vision
whereby, we must go back to Him again;
When our eyes are focused on Christ,
He lights our path and lessens our pain.
Instead of worrying and becoming anxious,
I’ve decided to cast my burdens on Christ,
knowing that He earnestly cares for us;
employing His principles, no real strife
can ever deter us from personal victories.
We’re blessed, from persevering our trials;
for these too, will eventually leave us,
lasting but a short, inconvenient while.
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Psa 27:1, 119:2; Isa 41:13; 1 Pet 5:7;
Jam 1:12; Prov 3:5-6 and
"No matter how big or small the obstacles we face in our spiritual journey, as long as we keep our eyes on the Lord, we will reach our destiny that God has prepared for us beforehand to fulfill in this life, and hence inherit a mighty reward for it in the life to come. Keep your eyes in between the start and end of your faith on Jesus because He is the one who actually starts as the author and also ends as the finisher of your faith, He is able to keep you safe from the drowning of worry and unbelief by His supernatural power to stay afloat to reach your heavenly destination!" —Abraham Israel
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
cajun family
personalities
dealing with
alchemical transmutation
transactions
changing of values
history for money..
wildly popular show..
biting humor wraps
sly bidding and exchange
greed rises and falls..
initial bid and response
a scaling gap
startled unbelief..
increments then decide
decisions' sharp edge
money or heritage..
convenience argues
bad choices faced
painful needs are voiced
a values paradox..
microcosm of life now...?
snapshots of our mirror...?
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:05 PM UTC
It's Sunday again for you cloistered patricians
aloof from the madness, the magic and myth;
who trust in your wisdom, investments, physicians
unready to answer forthwith:
"Why bother with worship—in church or the zoo—
why weaken the links with a dull set of tools ?"
you ask yourself over your high-end Tarrazu,
bemused at the fables of fools.
You've bartered salvation for New York Times articles,
sipping on bitterness (shade-grown organic).
You settle for molecules, atoms and particles
unfairly-traded, satanic—
while you celebrate emptiness, general futility
musing on nothingness, sure of specifics
ensconced in your kitchen of pampered gentility
flirting with atheist physics.
Those simple plebeians: you'd love to enlighten them
help them, like you, to become a free-thinker
but you remain tasteful, for boldness might frighten them
reeling in fairy tales: hook, line and sinker.
Yet somebody, somewhere has uttered your sentence
(though you abhor judgement, let's read it again).
Sheba and Nineveh, versed in repentance
await you—not whether but when.
The darkness is brewing unholy filtration;
the wine of the harlot approaches the rim;
your guilt is augmenting in slow percolation;
you shrug it all off on a whim.
The souls of Assyria rise from your paper
they watch in amazement, prepare your abyss.
Your coffee now brims a more sulfurous vapor;
oh sinner—there's something amiss:
The crypts of Marib and the tombs of the Axumites
shudder and groan while you're reading the Times...
(immune to the words that some Christarded poet writes
mixing psychosis with rhymes.)
Royal Sheba will chastise your erudite unbelief,
smug self-importance and cynical squawk.
Then she'll sigh with immense Ethiopian grief
and her Highness Queen Bilqis will talk.
It is Sunday in Babylon. What if your sunlight ends...
why are there mobs in the streets of the nation?
Shall you have breakfast—or calculate dividends...
what would you pay for salvation?
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
(Exodus, xv.26)
Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are,
Waiting to feel Thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair
And, Saviour, we are such.
Our faith is feeble, we confess,
We faintly trust Thy word;
But wilt Thou pity us the less?
Be that far from Thee, Lord!
Remember him who once applied,
With trembling, for relief;
"Lord, I believe," with tears he cried,
"Oh, help my unbelief!"
She too, who touch'd Thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,
Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace,
Thy faith hath made thee whole."
Conceal'd amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn'd Thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.
Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch Thee, if we may;
Oh! send us not despairing home,
Send none unheal'd away!
1.7k
A newborn father
wears a path to heaven
in polished holy marble
'neath the pedestal
of stoney saints.
Deific overseers
cast artificial glory
incandescently.
A slice of dimly lit
hospital heaven
is framed with two candles
and the incense of Betadine.
Saint John's shadow
shares confessions
and supplications
over a once-immortal man
now unashamedly broken,
bartering trade with God -
his life for his son's.
This shoebox chapel
is starking cold.
Cold enough to preserve meat,
and doubts
which mock peace
against nun-hardened walls
echoing Satan's laugh.
Hope drowns in the ripples
of a basin filled with water
to wash our sins
but not our fear.
In the air hangs
the promise of eternity
(which is spiritual code for "death", but no one says "death" outloud. The more they don't say it, the more it sounds like "WE AREN'T GOING TO SAY "DEATH", WE CAN'T POSSIBLY SAY "DEATH", UNTIL IT IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE THAT WE MIGHT AS WELL BE SAYING "DEATH, DEAD, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DEATH AND TO TOP IT OFF...ON YOUR MOTHER'S GRAVE").
Yet piercing through
the promise of eternity
is the frail wail
of his baby's voice.
Legacy lingers in a
plastic manger down the hall.
Resurrection is more
than a prayer, it is his spirit
rising for one more miracle.
Faith is summoned
like a woozy fighter
demanding his will
to go on,
beaten,
half-concious
on the mat
refusing to lay down
for the count.
"God, I believe.
Help my unbelief."
The weeping man
stares into a statue's eyes
for salvation.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
Attack the known and unknown fear waiting to strike a death blow to confidence, progress and achievement. Lift up talent's voice. Let the world know who you are. Come out of the valley of the shadow of death. Never let opportunity escape your grasp. Jab daily and knock out failure. Climb hills of disappointment, with the the very best inside. Seek the high ground. Never the low. Be teachable to life's lessons. Listen to elders to go further. Stride toward the farthest horizon with God leading each step. Arise from your bed of unbelief and walk. Let your talents be stubborn and unyielding to defeat. Swim past imperfection and not good enough. Climb out of the crib of woe is me. God made you for greatness. No life should be tongue tied by fear.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
"""@,,,,@""'@,,,,@"""
sing to the King of kings
worship our mighty Lord
maker of everything
mountain to shore
sing of His faithfulness
worship His Holy Name
bow to His countanance
always the same
bring Him a song of hope
bring Him a song of faith
sing Him a song of love
all who have breath
creation speaks aloud
stars have their tales to tell
waves on the distant shores
whisper in shells
all of earth's creatures
cry out their stories
listen and you will hear
God's Glory
they bring Him songs of hope
they bring Him songs of faith
they sing Him songs of love
unto their death
lost ones speak muteness
people without a spark
closed mouths of unbelief
sleep in the dark
Lord, wake the silent ones
open their ears to hear
part lips to cry out loud
with love and fear
let them join in the choir
teach them a new thing
let every mouth proclaim
Christ Jesus King
soulsurvivor
(C) 2/26/2009
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
I.
Brooded over by fate
nestled high up on the hills
by the mists, our love,
but now floating away
in a reed basket
on raging flood waters:
a home seeks a roost
II.
When it rains,
the whole world goes silent.
All the din and the dust,
lost in the downpour.
And voices long submerged
come alive in the heart.
III.
I seek a baptism of the soul.
Is'nt it of the scripture
that we are made in his image?
So, is birth, his lot too,
and age, and
the long wait to death?
The body's been bathed
many times over.
Yet this scar of unbelief
remains unscathed.
IV.
Thunderstorm.
Candle light.
Slanted shadows.
Across the table,
blazoned red.
V.
Yes, there is still
'you' and 'I'.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
1.4k
Words and Music by Josh Garrels
Children of the Earth
Once dust but now alive
Livin’ in tents of flesh and bone
We hold spiritual fire.
Set a flame in my heart
Illuminate the darkest hours
Where I wait before the dawn
To see the glory and the power
Of the Lord
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
The older we become
We must become more like a child
Believin’ there’s a land that lies beyond
All things that we’ve seen
Make my mind free from fears
You know I can’t do it on my own
The way is high,
But we could fly over
When you heal our wings.
We sing
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
This song is so simple yet means so much to me. There are so many things to comment on, but the one line that is applying most significantly to my life right at this moment is:
“Set a flame in my heart, illuminate the darkest hours, where I wait before the dawn to see the glory and the power of the Lord.”
I feel the flame of the Holy Spirit burning within, and yet I continually try to put it out, allowing darkness to set in. Oh that the Lord would end me and show His glory and His power. May the dawn of His redeeming grace burn like the fire on Mount Carmel, through the water and the trench, making all my sinful darkness be extinguished by perfect Light. I believe! Only help my unbelief.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Is it so, ai use back propagation? I may
see propagation as how seeds do whatsoever seeds may,
but in reverse, I slip
into full on unbelief, free to say no
Beginning now, at your sense of so, present state, whole
ball of wax, as it were, all we digitally know we know already,
so, these are last lines of one scene and first lines in the next
as we retain some grip on our ante-cipitation, thinking we know
where this is going,
knowing we don't,
we let it go.
May 20, 2023
May 20, 2023 at 5:54 PM UTC
Earphones in
Volume up
Lights down
Song selected
Eyes closed
A Rush of sweet melodies
Unbelief of delicious cascading harmonies
A series of perfect notes
Wave after wave of joy
Bright emotions light up within my heart
Emotion
Wonder
Love
I Ride this Song!
Next song
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:11 AM UTC
I hate my life is written on the pavement again
Like a chalk outline of his hope that died long ago
All the appointments and disappointments are a battle for his joy
All the loss and resignation have stained his soul
The warmth hugs him on his way to work
And the stars sing to him at night
Yet all he sees is his home empty and dark
And he's waiting for something to change his life
And his confidence goes where his confidence comes from
And his confidence goes where his confidence comes from
You've been trying to be big in the eyes of the world
But this world leaves you to do life all on your own
Just because you've been abandoned doesn't mean you are alone
Unbelief has driven your soul but you still got a home
And you confidence goes where your confidence comes from
And you confidence goes where your confidence comes from
And you happiness goes where your happiness comes from
And you confidence goes where your confidence comes from
You don't have to be right
Wouldn't it be nice to put your guard down
You don't have to be busy
Wouldn't it be nice to slow down
You don't have to be perfect
Wouldn't it be nice to know
You don't have to be anything this world wants you to be
You don't have to do it on your own
You don't have to do it on your own
https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/abyss-of-unbelief
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
Behold,
the throne of mercy.
Oh that l be shown mercy.
Behold,
the throne of grace.
Oh that l obtain mercy.
Worthy of death am l,
but have mercy lord.
Grant me help for l am undone.
Your words have l forsaken.
Your presence have l deserted.
My unbelief speaks against me.
My words have condemned me.
Let the throne of mercy be opened to my access.
Let mercy fall upon me like rain.
My heart is far removed from thee.
Lord,
condemn me for l am iniquitious,
the spell of sin has engulfed me.
Judge me for l am guilty.
Turn against me for my sins are heavy.
Cast me from your presence for l am filthy.
Lord, but
where do l go from your presence?
Who will wash my sins away?
Who will grant a wretched soul like mine mercy?
Who will show me mercy?
If not you lord.
Grant me access to your throne.
Forgive my transgression.
Cleanse my iniquity.
Rescue my perishing soul.
Help my unbelief.
I've wondered far from thee,
Now l return;
cast me not away.
I've come to my senses,
open the heavens for me,
l am taken in sin.
My soul is captivated in sin,
my feet engulfed in iniquity.
Lord,
have mercy.
I have come to the throne of your mercy,
deny me not;
but grant me mercy.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
1What do you believe happens at death?
-we are released from our mortal enclosure and transformed into our very essence:SPIRIT
2Where does the lost soul go?
-it leaves behind its doubt and unbelief and is granted redemption if it accepts it
3Where lies Heaven?
-Heaven is at the verry presence of God.Its a world of undersTanding,and where TRUTH lives
4Is the reality of Hell real?
To be away from Gods presence is the Spirits hell-the flesh abides in agony and tortured realiSms. Forever!
5Are we going to live forever in Eternity?
Yes,for with God there abides no time,no death and no end!
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Where her preponderance takes over rainbows will overtaketh thy dark cloud, the phantism of her queen screen projection is for all to daydream of!!! What a riddle shell leave you upon thy emptied tray, her mysticism and mystification can leave a bruise upon thy name!!! An atlas of lost time, shell pursue to all oceanic depths, a mall thief of unbelief, she just could pile all thou has left!!!! An intensive heart throb to maximum proportions, she will jeer you to distortion if thouest forget her special occasions!!!
How lovely is thy own grass when it withers? Still leaving behind sheers of myrtle grove? She will dissavow your heated warm loathe.... Discerning one, disclose me all the way, where is thy key to ones disorderly dungeon? The embellishment to all real estate!!!!
One whom I can fascinate and rellish to mine and hers own doings!!!!!!!
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC