Monday, 22 September 2014

Minute To Win It

A minute to win it.
That's what the brother said.

He wanted to share Jesus,
so he chose his words
with care.

Tasted them
before they passed his tongue.

Paul said it in his letter,
Let your speech
be always with grace,
seasoned
with salt.

It reminds me of Premium crackers.
I always liked the salted ones best.



It's the same with words,
The salty ones are better.

Words sprinkled with grace,
seasoned with love,
covered in mercy,
giving life
and hope.

The Master,
I love His Words.
He never wasted any. 
Not one.
Every. One. Counted.


They thought to catch Him one day.

So they brought her,
before Him
guilty in the morning light.

The words God gave Moses,
the words of the law, 
said she had to be 
stoned.

They're thinking,
He says He's God.
Will He go against His own law?

So they ask Him, 
What do you say Master?

He stoops 
and writes His Words,
on the ground.



To the merciful He will show mercy.

He wants to show mercy to them all.
So He needs to slow this down.

They ask again,
What do YOU say?

He stands
and gives them 
some salty, grace words.

Whoever is without sin,
can throw the first stone.

His words 
stop them.




And then,
the only sinless one
stoops 
to write some more.

They need time to think.

We don't pick up stones,
when we know our own sin.

For all have sinned 
and come short 
of the glory of God.

The oldest leaves first.




Years of living
should 
make a soul wise.

One by one 
they remember 
something they've done 
and slip away.

Standing again He asks her,
Is there anyone left to condemn you?

No Lord.

Neither do I, 
go and sin no more.

Words have power.

Some 
cause you to 
stop 
and think.


 I wrote these words in my Bible 
many years ago.
The author is unknown to me.

I saw no likeness to Him 
in you today,
And since I shall not pass your way again,
It matters not 
that yesterday His light shone in you.
Or that tomorrow, 
you may want to make amends,
I passed your way today.

The
only
WORDS
that
MATTER
are
the
ones
I
live
A Voskamp

Help me Father
to speak salty, grace words, 
seasoned
with love 
and mercy.

I may only have a 
moment 
to win it.








Thursday, 4 September 2014

Twenty-nine F

It was February.
 I was on my way home from Edmonton.
Soon there'd be 4000 km between us again.

We had so much fun. 
You can have winter picnics in the living room. 


We played hide and seek. Made puppets.
Then Momma brought home that great box from Cosco. 


We turned it into the coolest car.
 With headlights and a door that open and shut.


A two seater. Perfect for two brothers.
They drove it long after I left.
Right into the rug 
'til the door was hanging off.


They watched me as I got ready to leave.
I could still see them. Both sitting on the step. 


Zeke, standing there by my suitcase, 
one sock on, one off.


This was my only stop, Toronto airport.
My flight would get home at 1:15 am. 

I found a seat close to the departure gate.
While I wait, I wonder.
People everywhere. 
Each with their own story.

But He has the greatest story.

There will never be a sweeter story,
Story of the Saviour's love divine,
Love that bro't Him from the realms of Glory,
Just to save a sinful soul like mine.

And He wants us all part of it.
And the ending,
is perfect.



They announce the last rows go first.
I check my ticket to see where I sit. 

29 F

I join the long line of stories.

 We board and I look at the numbers as I go down the aisle.
Further and further. 
It's a slow process. 
People stop to put luggage in the overhead bin. 
I keep moving, 
looking for 29 F.

My search takes me to the very end of the plane.
The last row is row 29 
and F
is the very 
last 
seat
in by the window.

So I get myself in there, and settle in, 
or try to.

   Just ahead, are two young children. 

  A papa is walking back and forth the aisle,
gently shushing his crying baby.
                                             
A young momma and her little girl sit next to me.
The little one slips her boots off and curls into the seat.

Momma takes her socks off and apologizes for her stinky feet.
She tells me they've been travelling for two days.

I smile. It's ok.

It's late for little girls and her eyes close.
Momma puts in her headphones.


When you sit at the end of the plane, 
the washroom is real close.
Aromas fill the air. 

We take off. 
It's dark now.

I look down 
and her little feet are in my lap.



I reach for my bag.

You can go to the River anywhere, anytime.

I turn to where I had been reading in the gospel of John.

 Chapter 17 

And there in the dark 
I listen in on Jesus.

 He's praying 
and it's beautiful.

 He prays for Himself
 and then for His disciples.
Then He says,

Father, I don't just pray for these alone 
BUT for all those who shall believe.

And I realize, 

He's praying for me. 

Now He really has my attention. 

Then I come to verse 23 
and He says, 



I pray that the world may know...
That You love them, as you love me.

  His Words 
leap 2000 years 
into my soul.

Tears come to my eyes 
as I drink in the sweetness of this truth.

In the dark I say His Words 
soft and slow,

My Heavenly Father loves me 
as much 
as He loves His Son.

And even though I'm in 29 F,
far above the earth, 
I feel like I'm at the River.

Jesus is here 
and He has Living Water.

Just for me.
Just for you.