Jesus is the Word of God
Over at King's English Michael Mates has written a wonderful sonnet in response to this post.
Son of mud
And other crud
Lift up your eyes
For you shall rise.Conceived in dirt,
Be bold to flirt
With Light who woos
What once was ooze.Man of dust,
It’s time to trust
Your Maker’s thumb
And, soft, succumb.Let Him weep for you today,
For wetted dust is yielding clay.
Thank you Michael!
Over at King's English Michael Mates has written a wonderful sonnet in response to this post.
Son of mud
And other crud
Lift up your eyes
For you shall rise.Conceived in dirt,
Be bold to flirt
With Light who woos
What once was ooze.Man of dust,
It’s time to trust
Your Maker’s thumb
And, soft, succumb.Let Him weep for you today,
For wetted dust is yielding clay.
Thank you Michael!
if i were a fish
i'd wish
to swish and slither
near and thither
round coral candy
brightly lit.
my silver belly
slimed and smelly
would rough and tickle
the pebbled gritties.
through defracted wobbles
i'd gaze and appraise
that other galaxy
with the air
and televisions and the kitties -
their paws thud thudding
in vacant despair.
i'd decide to glide
in nonchalant cool
past claws that kill
at will
how my fishy heart would thrill!
they could not express, my leaden eyes,
such highs
as send a pescatorial chill
that is, until-
those kitties invent a gill.
i wonder if still
i'd wish
to be that fish.
.
.
Together with this hymn, this is what really depresses me about the manner and method of today's 'conservative evangelical' preaching. As for the content... that's what the rest of the blog is about...
.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture,” he loudly proclaims
“Our rule and our guide, Our fount and our frame.
We stand on the bible, for better, for worse
But let me give vent to my own bluster first.”
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, so let me digress –
To warn you of others who do not confess
Our creed guaranteed to produce a revival:
We are the ones who honour the bible.”
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, though some shun our scheme
Daring to preach on one verse, or a theme!
I really must warn you about all our rivals,
And then I will ask you to take up your bibles.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, and so I rehearse
Our constant insistence on verse by verse.
Methodical, logical, slowly proceeding,
This is our system, now, what was our reading?
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, but don’t be naive,
The troubles with preaching you would not believe.
We must invest time in Corinthian Gnostics,
The value of genre and Hebrew acrostics.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, a difficult book,
But do not despair, to me you can look.
The dirty great chasm between then and now
Is bridg’d by my painstaking, expert know-how.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, The clock is against us!
I fear that I shan’t do this passage its justice.
We’ve only got time for a mere bible dip,
Yet before we explore – a joke and a quip.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, but first let me quote
From Shakespeare and Churchill, a drole anecdote,
My children’s exploits and the signs of the times,
The state of the church, and, my, how time flies!
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, just time for essentials,
But, wait, have I listed my many credentials?
My friends in high places, the people I meet,
The man I converted in the aeroplane seat?
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, although it’s a drag
I’ll lighten the tone with a mother-in-law gag.
And stories I’ve stolen from preachers at will.
Consider it sugar to sweeten the pill.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, though sixty six books –
This story of glory’s more plain than it looks.
Distilling its filling through splendid oration,
You’ll see it boils down to this fine illustration.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, the detail’s not vital,
I’ve spent all my time on a memorable title
And quaint turns of phrase that will please only me,
And predictable points beginning with ‘P’.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, my time is now through,
My pithy summation will just have to do.
You guessed it the moment my sermon began:
The Lord is the Boss, now submit to His plan.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, And now let us pray,
‘I thank You my Father You made me this way,
Not like all those others about which we’ve heard
For I am the preacher who honours Your word.’”
.
Together with this hymn, this is what really depresses me about the manner and method of today's 'conservative evangelical' preaching. As for the content... that's what the rest of the blog is about...
.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture,” He loudly proclaims
“Our rule and our guide, Our fount and our frame.
We stand on the bible, for better, for worse
But let me give vent to my own bluster first.”
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, so let me digress –
To warn you of others who do not confess
Our creed guaranteed to produce a revival:
We are the ones who honour the bible.”
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, though some shun our scheme
Daring to preach on one verse, or a theme!
I really must warn you about all our rivals,
And then I will ask you to take up your bibles.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, and so I rehearse
Our constant insistence on verse by verse.
Methodical, logical, slowly proceeding,
This is our system, now, what was our reading?
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, but don’t be naive,
The troubles with preaching you would not believe.
We must invest time in Corinthian Gnostics,
The value of genre and Hebrew acrostics.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, a difficult book,
But do not despair, to me you can look.
The dirty great chasm between then and now
Is bridg’d by my painstaking, expert know-how.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, The clock is against us!
I fear that I shan’t do this passage its justice.
We’ve only got time for a bare bible dip,
Yet before we explore – a joke and a quip.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, but first let me quote
From Shakespeare and Churchill, a drole anecdote,
My children’s exploits and the signs of the times,
The state of the church, and, my, how time flies!
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, just time for essentials,
But, wait, have I listed my many credentials?
My friends in high places, the people I meet,
The man I converted in the aeroplane seat?
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, although it’s a drag
I’ll lighten the tone with a mother-in-law gag.
And stories I’ve stolen from preachers at will.
Consider it sugar to sweeten the pill.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, though sixty six books –
This story of glory’s more plain than it looks.
Distilling its filling through splendid oration,
You’ll see it boils down to this fine illustration.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, the detail’s not vital,
I’ve spent all my time on a memorable title
And quaint turns of phrase that will please only me,
And predictable points beginning with ‘P’.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, my time is now through,
My pithy summation will just have to do.
You guessed it the moment my sermon began:
God is the Boss, submit to His plan.
“Tis Scripture, Tis Scripture, And now let us pray,
‘I thank You my Father You made me this way,
Not like all those others about which we’ve heard
For I am the preacher who honours Your word.’”
.
All but cursed, the men of dust,
From garden’d bliss dejected thrust.
Cast down to blood and tangling thorn,
Flat-faced in mud, bereft, forlorn.
Unmoved as ages droned along,
Resigned to sighing sorrow’s song.
To mouth their sadness with each breath,
In love with self and sin and death.
Then glancing back, a glimmering sight,
Through gnarling weeds, a shaft of light.
The tree untouched, of matchless type,
Engorged with life, effulgent, ripe.
It lay beyond the thorny wall,
A tantalizing siren’s call.
All wrong reversed, all tears made good,
All hunger filled with holy food.
New drive possessed the men of dust,
They set to work with primal thrust.
To have the fruit at any cost,
If failing this then all is lost.
And so they pressed against the wall
Of thorn and blade and jagged sprawl.
Their eyes aglow with mad intent,
Their bodies pierced and torn and rent.
Their flesh sliced through by razor wire,
Could not abate their one desire.
No hurt could halt their desperate zeal.
“Once through, the tree alone will heal!”
Their bodies strewn along the route,
Their hands outstretched to reach the fruit.
Yet none would cross this death-divide,
Their hope lay on the thorny side.
Behind them in the other way,
Another tree for sinners lay.
It stood apart and unacquired,
Gnarled and grim and undesired.
It did not catch the eye of men,
Who sought a ripeness there and then.
Yet this one pledged a golden yield,
A crop of Life in death concealed.
For hanging lone across its form,
The Lord, disowned, enthroned in scorn,
Was off’ring all a bloodied balm,
With up-raised voice and out-stretched arm.
Thus from the midst of curse and death,
Is raised His call with rasping breath.
“Come every man, leave off your quest
Find life within my wounded breast.”
“He lies!” they shriek through raging tears,
They scoff and mock with angry jeers.
"What life could this cadaver give?
What guarantee that we shall live?”
“Just this” He says with pity’s call,
“I’ve come direct from o’er the wall.
All bliss that moves your frenzied glee,
Such fountains first begin in Me.”
At once they splutter daft disdain,
“No wounded Man or tree of pain,
Will be our well or way of life.
We’re free! You pledge us only strife!”
“Dear friends!” He pleas, “regard your plight,“
Your freedom bonds you, blinds your sight.
Your wounds for self, for self are loss,
Come lose them in my wounded cross.
“Your life is death, My death is gain,
Now trust in me, for you I'm slain,
Come hide in Me through darkest night,
Soon heaven’s dawn shines fresh delight.”
Just so His promise stands above
All men, inquiring which they love:
To seek the fruit and Him defy,
Or heed Life’s call to “Come and die!”
.
I'm loving this poem.
.
It's sad but true. (Inspired by Paul's poetic (but not prophetic) effort.)
They managed to win all the same
Despite their mid-order bein' lame
Both teams had two lapses
Each batting collapses
But the Poms had em both the same game.
That's my in depth analysis.
.
There's a harmony too, but I'll have to add that when I get some recording software.
He rose up among us, as told.
He rose up as promised of old.
My Brother in strife
Assuming my life
Exalted, the Father's Decree
He rose up, He rose up for me.
He rose up humanity’s Last
He rose up in life unsurpassed
My Champion living
God’s life of thanksgiving
Exalted as I'm meant to be
He rose up, He rose up for me.
They raised Him, my Saviour, on high
Man lifted, accursed, left to die
My Priest in atonement
My Lamb in enthronement
Exalted on Destiny's Tree,
He rose up, He rose up for me
He rose up from death He arose
Immortal to crush all His foes
The Lord of all history
My Christ has the victory
Exalted, the darkness must flee
He rose up, He rose up for me
He rose up to heaven, He rose
Ascended beyond other thrones
My Friend in high places
My Fountain of graces
Exalted, my Heavenly Plea
He rose up, He rose up for me
I rise up, I rise up in Him
Emboldened in spite of all sin
In Jesus attaining
My destiny – reigning
Exalted, with angels to sing
I rise up, I rise up in Him
.
I wrote this while working on my kids ascension song.
He rose up among us, as told.
He rose up the Promise of old.
My Brother in strife
Assuming my life
Exalted, the Father's Decree
He rose up, He rose up for me.
He rose up humanity’s Last
Man's Answer in life unsurpassed
My Champion living
God’s life of thanksgiving
Exalted as I'm meant to be
He rose up, He rose up for me.
They raised Him, my Saviour, on high
Man lifted, accursed, left to die
My Priest in atonement
My Lamb in enthronement
Exalted on Destiny's Tree,
He rose up, He rose up for me.
He rose up from death He arose
Immortal to crush all His foes
The Lord of all history
My Christ has the victory
Exalted, the darkness must flee
He rose up, He rose up for me.
He rose up to heaven, He rose
Ascended beyond other thrones
My Friend in high places
My Fountain of graces
Exalted, my Heavenly Plea
He rose up, He rose up for me.
I rise up, I rise up in Him
Emboldened in spite of all sin
In Jesus attaining
My destiny – reigning
Exalted, with angels to sing
I rise up, I rise up in Him
.