Saturday, October 19, 2013

Sick of it: A Word to the enemy

(Credit for the Title of this post goes to Skillet for their new song "Sick of it"). 

Exodus 17:11
English Standard Version (ESV)
11 Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed.

I'm tired of questions with no satisfactory answers, 
babies with cancer, life-changing diagnosis's, 
broken marriages with heartbroken people caught in the middle
of life. 

I'm sick of sick
people, and calls to sin that sound so appealing it's all I can do 
to say no. 
I'm sick of sore muscles, broken bodies, and lost souls. 
I'm sick of tears
and eyes sore from crying 
and speaking death
and seeing the dying 
reach for an eternity they are not sure they grasp. 

I'm sick of you enemy. 
And I've had enough. 
You will no longer make me question the goodness of God
because of the evil that you stir up. 
And when my heart stings because of a body
that’s betraying me,
and a friend whose pain is unfair and senseless,
And when my mind begins to question the goodness
of a God who died for me
because you make it seem like He’s the one to blame,
I have one thing to say,

I’m done with that, My God is good, He is Victorious. All of His promises are YES and AMEN and He is the source that never runs out. ALL things work together for the good of those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose, a purpose I may never know. But I know Him, and He wins.
And enemy?
When you tempt me to condemnation,
fear and guilt call to my heart
I choose to go to Him who is greater than my heart
and cry, not for answers, but for comfort, because the question
is not Why? It’s What now?

You are not even worth calling by name
but I do because I’m covered by blood
that means all your accusations and pain and lies
are baseless.

Blood that cried my name when it hung from a cross
and you thought you’d won,
Blood that covered broken marriages, and pointless diagnosis’s
and chaos
with purpose.

I raise my hands for my people.
I raise my hands as I watch the battle,
I raise my hands
to praise. Even though sometimes
I don’t want to.
I praise Jesus for breath every morning,
and strength to get dressed every morning.
I praise Jesus for community
and never being alone.
I praise Jesus for sore
because that means
I am if nothing else

I raise my hands
and call that which is not
as though it were.
Bones that are mended,
hearts that are healed,
and purpose to the hopeless
broken of the world.
I raise my hands and choose
Joy that pain is temporary,
and weeping only for a night.
I raise my hands and call for peace,
for the lost
that Jesus died for, and yet rose again.
For the precious Holy Spirit who tells me
there is a world out there
I do not see,
that is more real than I know.

I raise my hands and thank my Father
in the midst of pain that I still have no answers for
because when I do that I remember
enemy, that you lose.

I watch as friends battle
and I stand
hands raised
for them.
Because enemy
I know Victory
His name is Jesus.
And He is sweet, 

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

The Playground: When My "Self" and My "Soul" Are at War

The playground is dark

and surrounded by underlings who are here to 

play with my mind.

They spin the merry-go-round with worries and what if’s?

as my faculties begin to decline.

I hear a voice of terror

come whispering, spooking, and screeching

as I swing back and forth between depression and

pleasure of the most frustrating freshly kind.

I slide down

and free fall into the tempting reveille

of sin.

Watched, always watched by two pairs of eyes

who both have plans for the souls of all men.

One, that of an enemy

who sees all the ugly of me.

The mess of my madness,

the pain of my questions,

the dust from which I came,

and whispers

who do you think you are?

Ashes! Ashes of wondering, ashes of sick, ashes so utterly undeserving,

I’m going to make merry with you,

I’ll watch while you suffer,

make plans for your death,

and while you live you will have nothing

but dust.

Yet, another pair of eyes beckons,

shows a vastly different see,

Oh! Love even as my heart breaks for you,

to see light, only look for me.

The playground goes bright with no sign of shadow,

No room even for dark.

Surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses,

rooting, all rooting

for the free.

He spins the merry-go-round

with what is above and beyond,

heart wounds to suture,

a hope and a future.

A voice with so sweet a face,

He calls me

My child, My dust one,

Your new name

Forever is grace.

I slide down with questions,

things that still don’t make sense,

a limp, and an “unfair”

and He says “I am He to whom none Compare.”

I am your dream giver, your recompense.

And Oh Child I see all the “ugly” of you, but Satan has played the fool

because I will take your ugly

and make it nothing but beautiful.

I see your mess, and I will weave it all together,

Never forget my love, my chosen,

you and I will be together forever.

You came from dust, you came from ashes.

but you will win beauty’s crown,

because you are Mine,

and the whole world knows my Name and Renown.

Yes you will stumble into pride but I will always be near,

But My child, my sweet one, my Love, do not fear.

This park does not belong to him,

this temple belongs only to me,

so do not let him make prisoner

those whom I’ve already set free.

I am always on time, and always for you

Rejoice today is our day

I make all things new

So come on love

And let’s play!


Sarah Turner