“Your statutes have been my songs
in the house of my sojourning.” Psalm 119:54
Yes, Lord, that your word would be my song,
That I would sing your word as I quarter in this house,
That your word would last longer in me than even I do,
That you, your name, would receive bright glory
As your words are sung in notes over the reaches of the earth.
That those who grieve with tears today
Would find those very tears turn to healing ointment,
Filled with You.
That doubts would be exposed as the enemy’s
Faulty weapons, dulled and off-mark.
And may your words be my songs
In the house of my sojourning.
Home from Walmart
Laden and bagged.
Paper work I had
Asked Andrew to take to the
Church sat forgotten on the
Same instant, snap!
I realized I had
Forgotten to buy trash bags
He had asked for.
A wry little moment as forgettable
As the paper work and trash bags
Themselves. But, I thought:
‘Wait, this is deep!
His list was not my list,
And my list
Was not his.’ Couldn’t be.
Lists are the just the
Endnotes to the soul’s
Manifesto; they are as distant as
Capillaries from the heart, as
Chores thrice removed from
The great goal.
And we each possess our very own.
What a personal God we serve!
I don’t write your list or
Humbling, that. Instead,
Freely, I can
What peace will
Break out then!