How Can We Help But Be Joyful?

How can I help but be joyful,

with the Son rising up in my heart?

How can I help but sing boldly,

with the sun casting out all that’s dark?


With peace welling up like a fountain,

and joy flowing forth as a river;

God’s Kingdom’s descending from heaven,

and my mind sees a glimpse of forever.


Could angels sing praises more fully,

than we who have suffered through pains,

who marched ever onward in sorrows,

finding victory and eternity’s gains?


Join me in praises forever,

to our King and Creator, Amen!

Join Him in all of His glory,

as He raises us free from our sin.


The Spirit empowers us to love Him,

to live with Him fully each day.

Please embrace this power you’ve been given,

don’t squander or give it away.


How can we help but be joyful,

as Christ wipes away all of our tears?

How can we help but sing boldly,

as He fills us more fully each year?



Unconditional Joy

The depth of my joy comes from sorrow,

the breadth of my smile flows from tears.

Joy built upon pleasure’s too narrow,

will fade, then be lost, year by year.


The joy of the soul that is lasting,

is founded on Christ and His cross.

It’s encountered through prayer without ceasing,

and embraced by the carrying of our cross.


Approaching the Lord in His glory,

exposes all of my shame.

Trusting our God in His mercy,

frees us forever from blame.


Unconditional joy’s wrought by suffering,

it’s divinely inspired and given.

Whereby pain is transformed into healing,

step by step ever closer to heaven.



Wild Cravings

I have been like a ravenous beast,

eyes bulging,

seeking its prey.


I have not been at peace.


Scanning the earth,

grasping at comfort,

greedy for pleasure.


I’m out of my lair.


God once was my home,

green pastures for resting,

still waters for drinking.


No reason to roam.


Deceptive visions then lured me,

raging passions then drove me,

I became hungry and feral.


Domestic no more.


Now I roam and devour,

feeding and feeding,

upon worldly pleasure.


Eating and eating,

and for all my eating—


I starve.



The Words Escape Me

I have a nervous tongue,

but a steady hand.

I lack eloquence in speech,

but I can put down, in writing,

a pretty good sentence.


Words jumble and tumble from my mouth,

jostling one another to get free—

running, then stumbling over my lips.


As thoughts pile up in my head,

words fight each other for proper order;

struggling at the tip of my tongue,

pushing and shoving,

lunging then leaping out the door.


I hear their chaos

as they echo in my ears,

and I wonder,

“Do you understand me?”


“I’m not sure I just did.”


You nod and smile politely.


And I think again,

“If only I could have written to you instead.”



The Molecules of Sorrow

There is a slow evolution to sorrow,

as time passes, it falls from the trees, so to speak,

its color fades, and it molders,

and then disappears beneath the surface.


It dissipates, filtering through our sub-strata,

the molecules of sorrow penetrating our deep recesses,

and lodging there.


Meanwhile, life goes on, as they say.


I see the bold beauty of a sunflower and smile,

and my daily tasks I greet with gratitude;

I am thankful for this life I have been given.


But what of the lives that have been taken away,

particularly the one,

or two, that made up the fabric of our being,

whom we shared this life with as if they were our very selves?


Now they are gone,

perhaps leaving us many years ago,

or just last year, and somehow—

even though this world is still very beautiful,

and our lives are very blessed—

their absence has left a cold vacuum within us.


And when I stop for a moment from my activities,

I sense my soul gasping for air, bewildered and sighing,

confused at being left here alone.


Nothing is as it was,

and nothing can be again.


Yet still I see the vibrant color in the trees,

and the leaves as they fall.

Life is a rich tapestry,

that infuses time with brilliance—


I am stunned by its misery and its beauty.



Our Eternal Echo

Imagine that you are living eternally even now,

and that every thought and action that you enact in this moment,

is establishing you in eternity.


Virtue as steps to heaven,

or passions like withered vines.


What foundation are you building here,

and what seeds are you planting now?


Imagine if this moment were to be captured and lived out perpetually,

your current inner state to be cast in stone, or formed in iron;

is this who you want to be?


Cast instead, yourself at the feet of your maker,

and plead with God for the power and wisdom to live this moment,

as He commands.


We all fell with Adam when we were deceived,

by the devil in our pride,

and perpetuated by our unaccountability.


Why continue to fall? Haven’t you fallen far enough,

exchanging heavenly realms above,

for meaner, more solid, yet less substantial joy in this lower world?


Yet even lower worlds than this are calling,

for those who desire them,

as higher ones are being prepared for your return.


What step will you take at this very moment,

which direction will you move in your eternal now?


For as step leads to step,

here becomes there;

what appears insignificant now,

will echo forever.