Thursday, August 15, 2024

Of Bard's Battlefield or Walking Battlefields

How swift the eye perceives 
The innocent façade
That veils the part/heart that hails or grieves
The holiness of God

The battlefield of Bard (humankind)
Is neither ink nor page 
Beneath form's peripheral guard 
What storms of worship/passion wage 

Be still, my soul, and know
He heals the battle-wounds below
The innocent façade 

© Janet Martin

The battlefield of Bard
Is neither ink nor page...



I do constant battle with a dark voice telling me I should quit this blog.
This fierce force laughs, jeers, scoffs, scorns, accuses, belittles, stabs, shames, 
in great attempts to dissuade, discourage and despair!
(It's not always easy to put one's mind and heart on public display)

But that voice is no match 
for The Other Voice who, 
as I bow my head He hears my heart,
 He whispers sweet peace to me.
He orders the demons out!
He restores my soul!
Hallelujah
 💝🙏

Whatever our personal battlegrounds are,
may we heed the Still, Small Voice of our loving Creator
remembering we can do all things through He who gives us strength,
and who designed us each with our own unique abilities
gifts and responsibility to them/Him!
If we proceed, empowered by His grace and for His glory
 we succeed, not always perfectly, but never in vain!
Let's keep in mind we are all walking battlefields-soul-diers-warriors,
and thus be more gentle with each other !!

***
The cure for fear and despair is always
to take my eyes off myself
and fix them on God
And His great love's 'battle-scars'
when He broke the curse of sin
when He was pierced for our transgressions 
and crushed for our iniquities💓🙏
Isa.53:5 

***
Over 12 years ago my friend gave me the tidbit below
and since then, it has been taped where I generally write,
as her gentle reminder when I need it.
Thank-you Jane W.


1 Cor.10:31
So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, 
do it all for the glory of God.

One voice tells me to quit 
A critic mercy-void
A brute who thrives on fear and doubt
Till courage is destroyed

But oh, the other Voice
 Is gentle as can be
A friend whose tender grace and joy 
Whispers sweet peace to me 

One voice is loud and crude
The other, still and small
One makes love feel misunderstood
The other, not at all 

One voice is like a sting
And fuels dark despair
The Other sets the heart to sing
And fills/stills the soul with prayer 

© Janet Martin



 


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