…stories and poetry to touch, teach, & turn the heart toward truth.

Leave a comment

Lilacs like a frosted calm

Clayton from tales2apoint:

A friend whom I deeply respect penned these magical lines. I hope that you enjoy!

Originally posted on The Sword and the Towel:

Lilacs like a frosted calm
Are whispering their Balkan psalm
Within a shaded woodland on
The brim of Celladora.

And a cove of granite gray
Descending to an azure bay
Has chilled a mist of ocean spray
Nearby in Celladora.

Some have said a mystic tune
Is heard to trill at harvest moon
Or sing a canon with the loon
Who lives at Celladora.

And a lamb is sometimes seen
For but a moment in between
The distant lily heads that lean
Away from Celladora.

I have wondered once or twice,
What if these Celladoran nights
Were meant for nothing but these sights?

And what if this is beauty’s sleep
Which lingers only ‘til the sheep
Who is the wood, the cove, the tune
Awakens Celladora?

View original

1 Comment

Hope for Peace


Oh Father

in Heaven

I believe I am your child

Oh Master

of mercy

You’re my only hope for peace

Dear Maker

my Savior

Why do I go on so wild?

so unthankful

so unkind

Why do I spurn Your hand?

Oh humble


Please correct my disease

This sickness

that weakens

My love for your commands

My flesh

the culprit

But I feed its wily lies

Oh Lover

of my soul

Your faithfulness attends

To this world

to my heart

When in faithlessness I cry

Oh grant me


Lord, bless me with strong faith

Oh gracious


You’re my only hope for peace

photo credit: https://shelovescolorado.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/img_8709.jpg?w=750&h=500

Leave a comment

The Prisoner

I awake in a dark, wet, cave-like dungeon. The stench of human waste overwhelms me, and I remember that some of that stench belongs to me. And what other choice do I have here? It’s not like I can walk away from these chains to a proper bathroom facility. I’m not sure what’s worse: being isolated from my dearest friends or being bound to men who care as much about me as the rats that feed on the filth around me. The most I see of the outside world is the polluted rainwater and sewage that trickle down from the marketplaces above. I am always cold. I am always hungry. And I always hurt. Of the difficult places I’ve been, this is the most unpleasant.

I am left here with the memories of a dichotomous life and a desire to finish well. When I was younger, I was blessed by the fellowship of devout, honorable men. We took great care to “please God” with our hygiene, conduct, and diet. When I was younger, I was known as the man who was as close to perfect as could be attained. When I was younger, I was more unhappy than I’ve ever been.

Now, I’m not imprisoned here because I’m a dangerous man—at least not in the traditional sense. In fact, you could say that I’m here because I’m too loving. I love my God and Savior too much to stop living for Him.

My enemies have placed me here, and here I will patiently await the time of my trial. I have been in prisons like this one many times and have been released, but I feel an ever-growing confidence that this time will be my last.

Some of my friends have risked their lives to visit me here over the years. I cannot express my thankfulness for their faithful love. Even though this body of mine has been sorely abused, I am thankful. I am thankful to serve my God. He is the truly faithful one. I am in need of nothing. Whether or not I live on in this body, I do not fear. For I have learned no matter where I am to be content in the perfect provision of my Lord, Jesus Christ.

Yes, I am in prison for faithfully proclaiming the life-saving Gospel of Christ, which I continue to do even here. Yes, humanly speaking, my treatment is unjust. But let me tell you, I am exactly where God wants me. Yes, I will likely die soon at the hands of wicked men. But I can assure you of this, in spite of it all, I count this suffering as a true privilege. There is no place I would rather be than where God has placed me. I am Paul, and I am thankful to be here.


For further reading: Prisons in Paul’s World; Philippians 1:12-26; & 2 Timothy 4:5-22.

Leave a comment

Gentle Shepherd, Spotless Lamb

Behold the Lamb of God

Bruised, afflicted, crucified

Sacrificed for the sins of many

A wooden cross His altar

Forsaken by His Father in wrath

Then revived in perfect justice

Behold the spotless Lamb of God

Who reigns as mighty King

Behold the gentle Shepherd

Gracious, caring, kind

We are now His ransomed flock

Though we had gone astray

But as the holy Lamb of God

He wooed us to God’s royal fold

Where we are kept in safest care

Behold the Lamb, our Shepherd, God

Leave a comment

Daddy’s Song


O daddy loves you

Momma does too

O Alan Micah

How we love you


We love your smiles

And your blue eyes

Your gentle noises

And even your cries


O Alan Micah

Our little boy

Ours is a love

That none can destroy


Bigger and stronger

More handsome too

God made you special

And He loves you


Trust in the lord

With all of your heart

Honor His Word

And never depart


O Alan Micah

Our little boy

A gift from God

That fills us with joy



Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 255 other followers