Tag Archives: anxiety

The Center of the Holy

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I wish that words could capture what it is I’m trying to say
It can’t but that’s okay, it gives access in the moment:
Plaguing anxiety, weight deadening and chilled
A cool grip of loneliness, lit only by a dim fear light
The ugliness ‘gainst which I toil to scratch a living for others
Nay! My lack, my loss, my wasted time, futility my only fruit.

To the end, I press until I break. I break from this frightful trap
I sink ‘neath billows of sorrow sharp and painful, doleful, woeful, wailing
I cry unto the Savior who hears my cry and answers.
He shows himself beautiful in promised truths that break through the clouds.
My fearful flame is cast off with disdain as I blaze with a new flash of hope.
Th’eternal gospel kingdom fully accomplished in Jesus’ name.

That same name by which I am sealed, and whose glory is my only aim.
No weight of ugly sorrow can be matched with such a radiance.
Nor does it lose its value in the bright rays of joy at the recognition of His face.
Rather, recognizing how much more glorious He is than every sorrow,
Makes even this storm in which I am tossed, a beautiful golden display of His light.
Blessed be He, that not that for which I suffer loss, but He is the center.

I wish that words could capture what it is I’m trying to say
But it can’t and that’s okay.
It’s the center of the Holy
And only those touched by the Holy may enter.
Ask and it will be given to you.
Seek and you will find.

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Only the Impoverished Cry

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Woe! Woe! Sadness heaped upon Gladness crushing it into the stony ground.
Augh! That ilksome response to the anguish of agony writhing in a locked furnace
Wretchedness! That so many are mutilated, and shredded, lacerated with lovelessness.
Wicked! Foul empty catastrophes slake scrimmages of scum cauterized by needles.

Is there not a way that this pain can be expressed?
Is there not enough words leading to this forbidden place
Where hearts are un-wound with tears and sighing.
Must the cry of the earth continue to rise thus: How LONG O Lord?!

Blessed is the poor in spirit, because he can see the emptiness of riches.
Blessed is the one the Lord sets apart for Himself, so he can see eternity.
Blessed is the man who looks into the Word to find He who spoke it.
Blessed is the man who feels on his back the weight of Jesus’ cross.

Still they kneel and feed mouths open eyes closed
Their tongues lapping up the slimy, milky stuff that numbs their minds.
They’re reeling like drunkards blind searching for drink in a dark place
There’re no lights that can open the eyes of the drowsy.

How much uncleanliness can a soul bear, before it threatens to extinguish?
Breathe real air, my people. Do not suffer the violation of your sacred lungs.
Plant your foot on solid ground, do not go on swimming out to sea.
The mast upon which you lie will support you until you toss and turn.

Why?! This evil trenches itself into the good earth of God’s making
And plants itself a worthless, fruitless, and pitifully mocking weed.
You who wish to authorize such weeds to grow,
Do you so eagerly wish to eat the grass like cattle?

The Trench

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In prayer I saw You
I knelt at the altar
Weak, in pain, sick
And weeping from anxiety

You said, “It will be beautiful.”
“What will be?” I asked.
“My ministry through you.
Do you want to see it?”

My heart struggled
I felt so lacking in will.
I felt no desire
Only the tendrils of Your grace
Still holding me

At length I said, “Yes.”
Though it was not fully my own will.
Then He said, “Go ahead and look up.”
I looked up at the ornate covering of the altar
And looked through them.

I saw a grey landscape before me
Surrounded in white mist
And the path was delved into the ground
Like a trench waist then chest high.
On either side a wall of shallow ground.

And I saw You.
You were white clad
Though I could not see Your face.
Your arms were outstretched.
Hands open, above the trench.

I suddenly felt this aching truth
Leap with tears from my heart.
Not only was my path on either side marked out for me
You moved onward on the path facing me
You invited me forward.

The single truth is hard to put in words.
I found myself longing to go towards you
Weeping with longing to be in Your arms.
All the while You guided me forward.
The way forward was simply getting close to You.

Outcry: A Venting of Poetic Anxiety

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AIEE! A shade, a shadow, a block
The sun is bright, but I cannot see
My eyes have seen into the depths
Of what can but must not be

I retch and heave, the asphalt black
Has scorched my feet with trepidation
My riven side is cracked with fever blisters
My tongue is aching with the stomach’s refusal

How brisk this scattered search for light
That my eyes will light on a single star
And pray that it rise like a morning sun
To light my day with hope and life

But here I sit swallowed up with strings
They strangle me with the impediments of actionless-ness
They bite at me like a siphoning stringent strain
That leaves me beleaguered

Except for when I’m with her.
The light of favor in another’s eyes
The buy-in that requite Heaven’s treasures
To see them reflected in the pure pools of a beautiful soul.

But alas should that pool with mud be thick
For then the ways of my feet cannot be quick.
I move like a drunken man, and make myself sick
I strive to break my stride of one man carrying the weight of bricks.

The echoes of a heart that long to be begotten
Lest all its treasures that once fell ripe off the branch might be forgotten!
Nay, it shall not be . . . the light of day comes to make a planet new
But how am I to face the sun, without a bead of dew?

So happens when the eye is drawn to split his view
Between Heaven and Earth to dig the old for the new
To partner with the souls that seek a home
And find a place to rest from life’s torpid foam.

A stirring deep within me centers quietly
Tis goodness to be wrought from His seed planted.
The tired steps I take toward Eve’s bower.
When I do not know if she is even there.

Will I the man find a place for my hand
To till the ground and serve the land
Or will the earth not yield her strength
To make the seed bear fruit again?

A risk to walk one path with Him
And then to join into one way two
Shall I well-serve His pleasure here
And give water to she who still misses her home?