From Hosanna to Heaven

Come King riding a top palm branches politely
Praise to prosecution so soon came down deriding

Scourged, slashed, mocked and mucous dripped off Heaven’s own face
Poisonous thorns sunk into His crown embraced
Innocent Jesus hung up and down rugged cross to bring us sweet grace
Soldiers of Rome strolling with clink clucking armor in mindless pace
Pure and unblemished the immaculate sacrifice soon for all to taste

Oh to satisfy the wrath of El-Shaddai!

No riches can match the price
The Son of Man who was betrayed with a kiss
What love is this?
Believe in Jesus Christ is my advice
Scholars and the simple both know suffice

God walking among us fully man
Heavenly inspired divine sovereign plan

Once whole and distinguished
Jesus stripped bare bloodied flesh mutiliated extinguished
Bones revealed here and there just jutting
But not one broken as the prophecy in writing
Clouds creeping slowly coming over the sky
One added into the kingdom looked straight into Jesus’ eye
Another looking inwardly self-sufficiently passing away in excruciating pain
Have mercy oh God on those dying without the blood that flowed from Jesus’ veins!

Body broken but spirit still confidently residing
Till He breathed His last and heaven came in riding!
Buried behind boulder roll away three days later
Came out glorious Jesus Christ our risen Lord and Savior!

Psalm 1

Captured controlled lost and defeated by the king of the air
No way, an entire life enslaved in fear
Give me the wheel for tis’ I who’ll steer
Toward crashing and burning unknowingly being led
Curses destiny and fate written for a walking dead
Blind from the fact already crushed has been his head
From ancient of times long before man or the birth of a cry
A Savior a Messiah was there to supply
Flowing wounds agony despair
Bore bloodied on his back to release his prized from Devil and snare
Awesome I lay in pair of nail scarred hands
Aware this rest thro an expense stripping bare
Love unbounded so deep and strong
I cherish the Gospel my love and my song
Jesus my Lord my King and my Master
You’ve tidied up my mess turned into a big disaster
Holy Spirit reside in me, oh Immanuel!
To sing of thy Gospel given freely
Thank you thank you for the Gospel so sweet
Now it’s easy to pour it over a world like perfume on thy feet

::NOTES::

I wrote it on a Sunday afternoon in Beijing after reading a devotional on John 12:1-8. Remember the woman who poured perfume on Jesus’ feet to prepare for His burial? This beautifully renown act was Mary’s expression of love for Jesus among other things. These words only reflect a mere expression of my love to Jesus. The Gospel so sweet.

Isolation

Earphones connected to the iPod
Drilled into the holes of their heads
Walking around like zombies
Plugged into the rhythms and beats
Removed from the sounds of silence
No chirps
No whistling breeze
No rustling trees
It’s spreading like a disease

::NOTE::

Do you have an iPod? So do I. They are sweet, small, & stylish, but I noticed something about them and how they are also “stoppish” so to speak. At times, not all the time, I notice that they have the potential to stop/prevent/hinder me from hearing the still small voice of the King/the friend/the Savior/our LORD/the commander give His commands & words of endearment/encouragement/teaching/correction & His kind and compassionate rebukes. (oh He’s sooo gentle!) The devices of this world are leaving us alone and isolated. To remain in solitude and the silence of the sweet Savior is what I long for. Have we been seeking after the comforts of those sweet songs on that iPod, stereo system, radio, whatever (perhaps they are the songs of this world, that we don’t necessarily sing with our lips or instruments, but with our lives)…and finding Joy, Peace, greater & renewed Hope/Passion/Comfort/Love??? Do they “lead” us into the presence of the person of Jesus Christ, or leave us in a never ending lonely loop of isolation & desolation? Kids…in God’s abundant grace in which we now stand by trust in Christ, let’s unplug our ears with the rhythms/frequencies/and beats of this world and replace them with the rhythms of His voice. Can you hear it?!?!…I know I can’t sometimes, but I want to too.

Nothing Special, Just Simply “Quoting…”

This is an exerpt not by Liz, but Shane Claiborne in the Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical

I had a college professor who said, “All around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely. But dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip, dance, just don’t tiptoe.” In my youth-group days, I had seen all too many wild would-be Jesus radicals fall by the wayside because they had never been trusted with the adventure of revolutionary living. When I was a youth leader, one of the high school kids who had “given his life to Jesus” got busted only a few weeks later for having acid in school.  I remember asking in disappointment, “What happened, bro? What went wrong?” He just shrugged his shoulders and said, “I got bored.” Bored? God forgive us for all those we have lost because we made the gospel boring. I am convinced that if we lose kids to the culture of drugs and materialism, of violence and war, it’s because we don’t dare them, not because we don’t entertain them. It’s because we make the gospel too easy, not because we make it too difficult. Kids want to do something heroic with their life, which is why they play video games and join the army. But what are they to do with a church that teaches them to tiptoe through life so they can arrive safely at death?

I Tell Myself, But it’s Still About You

I tell myself…
Love. Think. Speak.
I tell myself…
Here’s anotha week
In my weakness HE
Is strong…
I hear a sound at the door.
ding dong
“Hello?”
“May I enter please?”
Uh, yea…
I ask myself…
Man, why I’m I hesitatin’?
I tell myself…
I know HE
Didin even hafta ask
HIS name everyone knows
I ask myself…
Why am I creepin’
On tip toes?
I tell myself…
Maybe cus I’m not alone
But just afraid to be known
Denial n anotha trial
I tell myself…
Man, he prollie aint thinkin’
Cus he don’t need be speakin’
To show that HE loves me
He just does.
I tell myself…
Can I do that too?

Before the Fall

He who fell from heaven once told me.

Light your fire and break from the shell.
Light your fire it lifts the veil.
Light your fire it’s not only you that sees.

O good and evil and naked indeed.
Blazing free from captivity.
Rising aroma of sweet pine. Fumes.
Pulsating embers, ebbing.
Back, but not forth.
Resounding, not heaven only earth.
Smoke budding. Taller and taller.
Too big and too high.
Consumed by my pride.
Waving, wavering, waning.
Walls closing in. No!
Snuff snuff.
Thick and grey haze.
I’m blindly lost in a-maze.

I hear him chuckle and crack his knuckles
And say:

The fire goes out like you knew it might.
Here comes the season of fall.

This couldn’t be the reason to all.
The purpose of life to fall?

Only one alternative that hasn’t been done.
I went to the Godhead three in one.

I’m here to carry you my son.

Deception was his key but it never turned.
Satan never understood the Lord’s word.
Save me from foolish furnace!
I understand…
You’ve given freedom to choose
But there is so much to lose.
Give up my old life and put on the new.
Either a path that leads to something
But in the end leads to nothing
Or a narrow path of love that leads to eternity.
Not condemned nor burning.

What will it be?

I will humble myself before thee.
Hear my plea.
Not mine, your plan.
Lord, I can’t do it alone.
Take me back home.
Sorry. I’m the one to blame.

I forgive thee.

Then his mighty right hand grabbed
My soul and lifted away the flame.
Thank you Lord, I pray in your name.

::NOTE::

Here is another one of my poems, which my professor notes is “full of Christian imagery and hell fire on earth and (seemingly) redemption, is ambitious.”

I wrote this poem without any focus, just started it with ‘Light your fire’ and then I just went from there, adding and revising until you see what you get today…taste, savor, and enjoy!

Sneeze

The invisible air cloaked
by musty smog, nostril hairs
try to prevent a clog. Lungs expand,
hinges on the side of the head
allow the mouth to slowly open.
Palm and fingers cover
like those railroad crossbars
that prevents traffic from crossing.
The train plows through.
Ah choo! Leaving its moist mark on
my hand.

::NOTE::

Its Spring…and for all those SNEEZERS out there…I wrote a poem just for you!