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

That He alone is God

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

He Whispers Sweet Peace to Me