Monthly Archives: April 2015

The Flashlight

This is going to be a quick post, but I just wanted to share a poem that was inspired by a discussion I had with the peeps from my Bible study the other night. Let me know what you think!

The Flashlight

The Lord is shining a light on my path;

there was only darkness before

so I beam as I can finally see the rocky crevices

appear around my feet.


“This way,” He gently whispers

as the beam moves along the path.

I step carefully to avoid the cracks

so I can keep my balance.


All of a sudden, the path slopes downward

to a dangling precipice.

“But Lord, I-“

“Just trust me,” He answers.


“I can’t- I can’t do it,”

so panicking, I pull out my flashlight,

and pop in the AAA batteries.

“I think I know a better way,” I say

so I traipse out of the light

through the brush and bramble,

letting the narrow flashlight beams

spill out.

I’m going so much faster this way,

going everywhere I like,

whenever I like.

But as I’m running about,

brushes begin to snag

and branches begin to grab.

The flashlight beam is dimming.

“Darn batteries,” I say,

and shake the device. It goes out.

Completely out.

Now I’m all alone,

in the middle of the woods.

Completely alone.


“God, I was wrong. I was so wrong.

I wouldn’t blame you, for wanting to leave me


I’m sorry for all I’ve done,

but if you’re God,

and if you’re loving,

please save me.


At that moment, my path lights up

and I can see the rocks and crevices again.


“It’s ok, I’m here now.”

I grin, then throw my flashlight to the ground.

I won’t need that anymore.

But I hesitate as the Lord’s light moves along the path

and I look again at the device.

“Go ahead,” God says. “Pick it up.

You might need it later.”

I bend down to pick up the flashlight

for when I’ll use it once again.


God knows when we’ll stray away from him and his will, but he let’s us do so, because he loves us. He didn’t create us to be robots, but instead gave us free will to do what we want. He wants us to come back to him, and gently asks us to follow him, but he doesn’t force us to.

That’s what makes him so loving.


A Singed Revival

Hey Guys!!!

You don’t think I would’ve left you guys off with just a depressing poem did you? DID YOU??? Well, the best part of the Easter weekend includes the fact that Jesus is risen. WOOHOOO!!! So this here’s a poem continued off from the main story line.

And this time, I came up with a title. Yeahhh man.

A Singed Revival

It’s now Sunday.

A few days have passed

Since I was here Friday.

*** (again, this is the spacing b/w the stanzas)

I walk through the woods,

Against the wind blast

I pull up my hood.


Shame is washing over me

Drowning me, yet holding me fast

I wonder if I’ll ever be free


I come to the stake on the mound

Though it seems like centuries have passed

Since he was mercilessly bound


I turn away, I can’t stay a second more

Until all of a sudden, as I look with a gasp,

A figure rises out from the ashen floor.


The ashes crumble off as the figure stands up

I stand there frozen, utterly aghast

And become as meek as a shivering pup


“Why are you afraid?”

The ashen-clothed figure asks

“Don’t you know me? Have you not prayed?”


“But-” I helplessly stammer, “you perished,

I saw the flames devour even the grass

And then everyone fled, including your parish.”


The being smiles, then shows me his arms,

Just singes, but a stark contrast

Against his incandescent arms, and rope burns


“Come,” he gestures past the collapsed forest

And we walk, at last,

To join in the heavenly chorus.


The main point that we can take away from Jesus’ revival story is that He’s not only alive, but also risen with nail-scarred hands, making him even more holy and blameless to us. He arose, scarred, but arose just the same. He could have gone around to save us an easier way, or could have decided, “Nah, I don’t really like them that much anyway,” and zapped us right then and there.

But he didn’t. He chose to come down to our world, saved us by dying on the cross, and then returned to heaven with nail-scarred hands because he loves us.

His hands are still scarred to this day.

A poem for Good Friday

I was thinking of attending a Good Friday Service this morning, but I didn’t because

a) They’re always so early. I’ve gone to them before as a part of my high school choir years ago, and we always had to go early. Although I suppose the service might be around the usual time that services are on Sunday morning. Still. When you think you have off from school, and you have to wake up early for a school choir, it counts as really early. So today, I needed some more beauty sleep (because some people actually have to work for it, you know).


b) I didn’t feel like it. I’m just lazy sometimes.

As my act of worship today, I decided to write a poem. And yes, this was written in the spirit of laziness, but who knew what fruit could arrive from laziness!

So without any further ado, here is my poem. And since it’s Good Friday, it’s a bit somber, so get ready.

Good Friday Poem (I haven’t really thought of any real titles yet, so if you have some ideas, let me know!)

It’s a Friday. I had just finished up for the day,

And decided to take a walk through the woods.

It had been a rainy day,

And being stuck in the office made it much worse.

Over my head, I pull up my hood.

*** (This is how I’m marking the stanzas, because wordpress refuses to let me space it like a poem)

As I walk through the trees that huddle together

I notice along the winding trail

A few other people, huddled against the weather,

And hooded as well, as if following a hearse

With their dark, narrow faces. But none of them wail.


“Hello,” I say, walking closer to them

“Hi Christian,” they say, to me. They know my name,

But I don’t know them.

They don’t look familiar to me, but cursed.

As if they were always living in shame.


I come to another group, less depressing than the first

And say hi to them as well.

They’re jolly, and making jokes, but burst

Into laughter when I tell them my name, they seemed averse

To getting to know me, and say, “Go to hell!”


Quickly, I pass by that group

I want none of that interaction

So I come to another, a troupe

Of thieves, stealing money from each other’s purse

And making faulty transactions.


Without saying hello, I pass by them too

And see, at the turn of the road

Thousands and thousands of other groups that grew

As they traversed,

Until all of a sudden, we slowed.


Ahead was a clearing in the trees,

Where a stake was nailed to the ground

A man was there, on his knees.

“Let’s beat him, first!”

Said one from the crowd, as we approached the mound.


And so we did. We beat him

With clubs and sticks that we brought

With us. His face was grim,

But even though he wasn’t coerced

To remain there, he never fought.


“Let’s tie him to the stake!” We said,

And so we did. We brought the ropes

From behind our backs while he bled,

And tied him to the stake as if it were rehearsed,

Then walked back down the slope.


Someone struck a match,

And held it aloft

As a signal. A batch

Of others lit up their matches, a verse

Of ultimate unity and scoff.


“Throw it,” someone sneered.

“Someone throw a match in.”

I paused at first, then volunteered,

Throwing in my match, and watched the others intersperse

Their matches onto the dying violin.


The wood ignited, surrounding the pole

With a deafening roar.

The figure on the stake just knelt on the coals,

And made not a cry, but instead did the reverse

And remained silent in the war.


Hours went by, and I watched this form

As he kneeled, beaten, in the ashes.

“Extinguish the flame,” I thought, when a storm

Was about to begin. He seemed to converse

With an invisible entity amidst the flashes.


A tear dropped to my cheek- or was it a raindrop?-

He looked up at me, and shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I love you,” I heard in my mind. Everything stopped,

But suddenly a lightning rod struck the stake, extinguishing the flames. Everyone dispersed

Except for me. Tears dripped from my eyes.


The figure slumped, the trees within the forest collapsed,

And the lightning continued to strike out at all of the trees,

Angry for the crime that was committed by the apostles.

What did I just do? I feel much worse

Than before the day began. I am not at ease.

After reading this, I want you to take some time to think on what Good Friday is all about. Think of how on this day, thousands of years ago, Jesus was crucified on Calvary for our sins. Every single one of our sins nailed him to the cross, and each one of us is as guilty as the next.

Not one of us is guiltless

Not one of us is saved

Without the power and sanctity of the beloved cross.

And while you think about how much we have all sinned and how much we will ever sin, think about how Jesus had a choice. He could have gone if he wanted to, but he remained.


Because he loves us. And that’s all we really need to know.