I am mildly surprised as I read these words months after writing them. Mildly, I say, because it isn’t a surprise and yet it is, to see how I have been so down in my hopes, feelings and outlook on things. I marvel somewhat because I know this has happened on many occasions while in between those times I have also felt quite to the contrary, as though the Lord were very much with me and that by Him, nothing was impossible. I have particularly felt the latter way, with full conviction immediately after the Lord has manifest Himself to me in some way, unmistakably. But how soon and how able we are to forget and to be in despair!
The whole world rots before my very eyes.
Blind I am not to its corruption;
Men bide their time in vain travail
Or wait until they have to go.
Suffering and death are everywhere,
Sickness, disease and hell;
Selfishness and greed reign over all;
Each man denies another’s rights.
Hell is on the left, Death is on the right;
Fake religions promise emancipation;
Vain hopes carrot asses everywhere;
The wisest are led by them,
bled by them,
and slain by them.
God is here, God is there, God is everywhere;
There is no truth, no mercy, no compassion,
No righteousness nor justice in this earth.
Men are quick to boast their virtue,
To make a show of goodness,
‘Til they have you where they want you
And slit your throat for what you have
If even so very little.
I see the wickedness and the cruelty,
The deception of every man
But though I have power to see all this,
There is nothing I can do;
I am helpless and selfish as other men,
Striving for the truth yet against it all,
Hungering for the right nowhere in sight,
Contributing to its non-existence.
I have sought to be the Lord’s,
To be His and His alone,
To serve Him well and do His will
But I have sought in vain.
There is nothing for me to do;
My searching is at an end.
I can not go on; my hope is gone;
I see no other way.
What then can there be for me?
Where will I go and what shall I do?
I despair and cry and writhe inside;
My God has forsaken me.
He has forsaken me, I do not know why.
I know that in me there is no good
But I thought and hoped that He would come
And save me if He could.
I am worse than I was a while ago,
And worse I get each day.
What can I do and where will I end?
What more am I able to say?
My depressions come more often;
They envelope me as a shroud.
My strength is fainter day by day
To withstand the onslaught of evil.
I have boasted and spoken of my God;
I have acted as though I have known Him.
Some, though few, have sought my words
To guide them on their way.
But now I find I am no guide;
I have no one to guide me.
Silent and subdued within,
After many years, I am at an end.
Promises have come and also gone;
I stand with empty hand;
Nothing to show for all my work
And sacrifice and search.
If I could find someone to end
This miserable life I have led,
I had let him have the privilege
If I knew the other side.
It may well be from pan to fire;
It may be for the worse;
I do not know so I can not go;
I must bear this curse.
Lethbridge, Sept. 1984
I have known fear, perhaps not as some have known it but many know fear one way or another, at one time or another, to such an extent that it cripples, paralyzes the soul. We think we have security in this world until one day we are rudely awakened from our pipe-dream. Security in this world is but an illusion. When our disillusionment comes, its comrade-in-arms is often fear. But that disillusionment needn’t be our enemy. In truth, it can be a friend in disguise. Nor do we need to fear as though there is no such thing as true and sure security, for then we would be prey to a lie, to our own destruction. There IS a sure security for those who will avail themselves of it. My fear rides me like a stern rider Rides his horse. Unless I run his pace, His spurs dig deep my sides. I think blood flows at times…I’m sure of it. I scarcely dare to think, to pause For fear I have a rider Who will not show me mercy Who will not grant me pardon Who will not make a move To relent, to ease my pain. “Run!” he says. I run. “Faster!” says he. I go faster. “Faster isn’t good enough! You’ve had it!” I think that if I drop, I have sweet release. He whips me as I fall. Fear is not afraid to beat a dead horse. He seems to relish it, delight in it. The compassion of fear is tyranny, His patience only scorn. He takes the meat and feeds it to minks, And then I think, “Aha! There is rest in the mouths of minks, Fear has no torment there!” Until I find that my rider Is possess...
Called on a ten day fast from all things dietary (but water) and social, the Lord was drawing me aside to spend time with Him and His saints and to prepare me for the future. The Lord has given me instruction To wait and fast and pray, To submit to this preparation, To accept all, come what may. Come, My darling, come away To a land where there is only day; Loving hearts await you there Where you will rest, free from all care. Come, My friend, why hesitate? I know, you're thinking of your mate. She'll be okay, I promise you, I have yet more for her to do. The time will come to meet again, Not in a bog but pleasant glen, Where you will meet with warm embrace, With joy and gladness, face to face. Your son, Jonathan, I gave to you; I'll make sure his heart is true And when their time is finally through I'll restore them both to you. Moon River Estates, Jan. 29, 1998
All of creation points to and teaches us of God, His requirements of us, our relationships to Him. Life in Christ must be as spontaneous and natural as the branches to their tree trunk. And am I presumptuous in pointing out that as branches cannot live without the trunk so the trunk has no life without branches? Can it be that Almighty God is so committed to us, His creation? We are branches, we are one, Not by ourselves, not of ourselves, But we live by the Greater One Which gives us life, Which gives us purpose for being. Though we go our own ways, One this way and that, Still we serve the One greater From where we come, In Whom we have our being and our life. We serve the Greater One and give It life; We live for It and It alone. The Trunk is our source and our deposit, The Beginning and the End. How can we live except we give? If we do not give, the Trunk does not live; If the Trunk does not live, we die. For the Trunk then we live No other choice can there be, Yet we give not so that we live, We are what we are; We do what we do, And if we do well we live. Lethbridge, 1984