The Poorest of the Poor or Beggars by Choice

It's one thing to read the beginning of Romans 12,

but quite another to live it! Don't you agree? 

Therefore I urge you, brothers, (meaning every believer)

 on account of God’s mercy,

 to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God, 

which is your spiritual service of worship.

 2Do not be conformed to this world, 

but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

 Then you will be able to test and approve 

what is the good, pleasing, and perfect will of God.

3For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: 

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, 

but think of yourself with sober judgment,

 according to the measure of faith God has given you...

Oh, so many perfectly, good reasons can tempt us to

dwell more on the temporal than the eternal!

If we could see for a moment what lies beyond the bit we see...

...not one of us would hesitate to prepare today for eternity; 

one glimpse (of either Heaven or hell)

would be enough to convince us completely!

The Gate of Final Breath (unlike the gates in the picture below) 

leaves no loop holes or gaps through which one might escape/return

 

To ignore or decline or disregard God’s still small voice

Turns us, often quite unawares, into beggars by choice

The poorest of the poor; no joy, hope or peace for the soul

No one to trust with all our hearts, no faith to make us whole

No touch to heal our blindness, no Comforter for our grief

No Father to reply when we cry ‘help my unbelief’

No all-sufficient grace to be our strength when we are weak

No fear of He who keeps account of idle words we speak

As destitute in spirit as blind beggars on the street

Without a Friend to bind Want’s wounds and help us to our feet

Knowing that He is able to do far more than we think

No anchor in life’s storms, no Living Water we can drink

No assurance of everlasting life after we die

No confidence or courage when we look death in the eye

No humble gratitude to He who paid the debt we owed

No gladness (other than what favor’s circumstance bestowed)

No power greater than the shadow of might man may boast

No sweet hour of prayer to cheer us when we need it most

No whisper of encouragement to combat dark despair

No Word to light our path, no one on whom to cast our care

No reason for love’s sacrifices, beyond what we can see

No joy still set before us when we shed mortality

No glory at the Finish Line, no Victor’s sweet reward

No crown to lay before God’s throne, no ‘Worthy are You, Lord’

No promise that defeats the grave, no treasure, Heavenly

No doubtless proclamation of ‘Greater is He in me’

No armor to equip us so we can fight the Good Fight

No happiness that transcends trouble with holy delight

No self-denying, death-defying purpose-passion-plea

No pleasure at the right hand of God for eternity

No one to do through us what we on our own, cannot do

No chosen, precious Cornerstone unshakeable and true

To build upon; no refuge in the shadow of His wing

No higher call to satisfy our present suffering

No Salvation’s deliverance from wrath to come, for sin

No escape from the poverty we chose, in place of Him

When we ignore, decline or disregard God’s still, small Voice

We turn ourselves, oft unawares, to doomed beggars, by choice

© Janet Martin

sometimes we refer to beauty here as 'glimpses of paradise' ...

...but God tells us differently: 

1 Cor.2:9

But as it is written: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, 

Nor have entered into the heart of man 

The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

Wishing you blessed encouragement at the beginning of a new week

on account of God's mercies,..

a life holy and pleasing to God

A few more Sunday evening drive show/car-stoppers!!

The air was dense with purple fragrance! 

Sometimes You Say I've Changed...

Jim and I are approaching our birthdays-season,

kindling tender reflection.

Jim is entering a new decade on Saturday💓🙏

Once upon a time our parents were parents of little children,

then, they became parents of adult children,

Then they became parents of adult children with little children

Now they are parents of adult children with adult children 

who are raising the next generation of little children...

and so it goes.

Nothing and no one stays the same for long!

Best to embrace the place/grace we are in,

for where one season is,

another is waiting to be

as long as life remains!

I am completely content in the season I am in,

not because everything is perfect but because

there are enough joys to balance the heartaches.

Thank-you, Lord!

Spending time with our children

and grandchildren is one of 

life's blessed joys, in the season Jim and I are in.

I love how helping to plant potatoes made Grand-kiddos

 feel happy, important and valued...

(the 'taking turns' rule kept it lively, 

with always someone trying to sneak in two 'turns' in a row 😂)

We had eight rows planted in next to no time at all!

Good times 💖

And great opportunity to live out this passage:

 Deut. 6:5-9

And you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart

 and with all your soul and with all your strength.

6These words I am commanding you today are to be upon your hearts.

  7And you shall teach them diligently to your children (or grandchildren)

and speak of them when you sit at home 

and when you walk along the road, (or work in the garden)

when you lie down and when you get up. 

8Tie them as reminders on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.

  9Write them on the doorposts of your houses and on your gates.

***

I love how the soft soil beneath their bare feet made them giddy with delight

I love how they still all love gramma's lap 💝 

I love when they can have some one on one grandpa time

 (while gramma cleans up supper dishes)

I love having  special reasons to bake...

 

Sometimes you say I’ve changed, and in a sense, I guess it’s true

Time changes things and I suppose it changes people too

Because perspective, with experience is apt to shift

The older that we grow the more we see life as a gift

The older that we grow the more we care about today

Because we’ve come to know how swift each day-gift slips away

To the permanent residence where centuries amass

Where everything that comes along is just as bound to pass

Where circumstance has always dealt both life’s better and worst

Where stepping stones to wisdom often felt like failure first

Where what we learned has earned a gentler, beholden regard

Because the way to learning it, was often slow and hard

Honing what we admire and desire and respect

And opening our eyes to joys we no longer neglect

As we begin to see without a shadow of a doubt

The certainties that younger people seldom think about

Where threescore year and ten or four was for far older crones

Before we looked time in the mirror and felt it in our bones

Admitting with aha, that time’s dexterous sleight of hand

Is more adept than any trick vain mortal can command

Sometimes you say I’ve changed; far sadder to remain untaught

After a lifetime leased to learn to love the way we ought

After day after day of grace, by mercy’s Hand arranged

Forbid the best that we can boast is that we never changed

© Janet Martin

Ps.90:12

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

How Oft-Soft a Sense of Joy-filled Grief...

...or, is it grief-filled joy?? 

(below, a week ago)

"If the tulips never died

the season for irises and peonies,

columbine and corn flowers,

 would never be born"

was my consolation during

 this morning's flower-garden stroll...

How oft/soft the haste of moments stirs

A bittersweet-ness as it blurs

The very present with the past

Ephemeral, yet iron-cast

How oft a long-awaited day

Of balmy breeze and sunbeam-play

Unfolds its bloom upon a stem

That cannot keep its diadem

…where soon echoes and petals meld

To grace the place where death is held

While overhead life thunders by

Beneath a rising, falling sky

How oft delight is caught off-guard

Where children dash across the yard

Heedless of currents that commence

To bear them from sweet innocence

…where soon they humble love's reply

With gaze that meets gaze, eye to eye

And we begin to revere more

The Hand that draws ajar dawn’s door

And we begin to slow our pace

To drain each precious drop of grace

From breakers as they heave and swell 

To wash dusk's shorelines with farewell

How oft we run with outstretched arms

But cannot hold for long, life’s charms

As love, ever a student, gapes

With groping awe, at spent landscapes

How oft we, like our silenced kin

When in the prime of groan and grin

Begin to sense a glove-like sky  

Taming/claiming an ocean of reply 

How oft then, time's momentum wakes

A bittersweet climax that breaks

Like foaming tides across a shore

Where lust for love and life implore

© Janet Martin

Eccles.3: 1-2

To everything there is a season,

A time for every purpose under heaven:

 A time [a]to be born,

And a time to die;

A time to plant,

And a time to pluck what is planted;...

I Wanna Live...

A Subtle Smorgasbord...

A word of caution...

The two photos at the top of this post are lovely.

The two at the bottom are not,

(unless the sight of mice traps

doing their thing doesn't bother you😅)

The picture is included because of the sobering parable it depicts

A new day is upon us

It lends to me and you

A very telling onus

By how we live for who

Each day is filled with choices

A subtle smorgasbord

Where what we cherish voices

Who is master and Lord

Pray, it is He who freed us

From the bondage of death

Pray we plead Him to lead us

In paths of righteousness

Behold, today is breaking

Alike to one and all

A gift, free for the taking

And rife with beck and call

Pray, by God’s grace and goodness

We are faithful and true

And recognize love's witness

By how we live for who

To everything a season

Until our life is through

Let’s make God's love the reason

For everything we do

...a new day is upon us

A subtle smorgasbord

Groaning with epic onus

That should not be ignored  

© Janet Martin

Ps.23:3

He restores my soul; 

He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

Rom.6:16

Do you not know that to whom you present yourselves slaves to obey, 

you are that one’s slaves whom you obey,

 whether of sin leading to death, 

or of obedience leading to righteousness?

After hearing a constant, suspicious rustle in the laundry room this morning

I set one of four mouse traps

 (set in the kitchen before bed last night, because of a mouse sighting)

 between the dryer and wall!

Before long I heard a snap.

I waited a bit then went to check and lo, and behold!

The mouse was contently feasting on peanut butter

seemingly unaware of his deadly fate.

His kitchen-foraging pal was no longer able to warn him...

(I think last evening's massive downpour drove them to seek higher, drier ground!!)

The Rich Man and Lazarus (a parable)

Luke 16:19-31

19 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. 

20 At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores

 21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. 

Even the dogs came and licked his sores.

22 “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. 

The rich man also died and was buried. 

23 In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up 

and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side.

 24 So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me 

and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, 

because I am in agony in this fire.’

25 “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, 

while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony.

 26 And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, 

so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, 

nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’

27 “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, 

28 for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, 

so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’

29 “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

30 “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’

31 “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets,

 they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Lord Have Mercy (For What We Have Done) 

Something About Planting Season

The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof.

Ps.24:1

What are you singing, asked my husband on Saturday

as he heard me humming while I worked in the flower garden...

I thought for a moment and realized I was singing this stanza

(to no fixed tune😅🎵)

which often comes to mind while I putter in the garden,

The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth,--

One is nearer God's heart in a garden

Than anywhere else on earth...

(full poem below post)

Something about planting season overflows the heart with cheer...

When the plow breaks dormant fallow and dust’s pungent incense spills...

Something about green-spun bowers bursts the heart with happiness...

Gardens, showcasing spring flowers, fuels worship’s epic ‘yes’

Something about lilac fragrance, enchanting warm winds of change

Makes us feel like God is granting good, old days naught can estrange...

Something about planting season overflows the heart with cheer

Hope rekindles wearied/worried reason with fresh starts, year after year

As the age-old call of duty/beauty hails from barren sweeps/deeps of sod

Toil is charged with awe for beauty/duty, cradled in the hand of God

When the plow breaks dormant fallow and dust’s pungent incense spills

When the bough brandishes halos of blossom and leafy thrills

When, once more faith is the substance of seeds scattered to the earth

Joy, akin to Eve of Christmas awes us with wonders of birth

Something about green-spun bowers bursts the heart with happiness

Gardens, showcasing spring flowers, fuels worship’s epic ‘yes’

Something about fresh-turned furrows fills us with humble content

Planting season helps heal sorrows that we cannot circumvent

Something about heavens laughing in blue hues beyond our ken

Feels like angels autographing May afternoon with God’s pen

Something about lilac fragrance, enchanting warm winds of change

Makes us feel like God is granting good, old days naught can estrange

Makes us feel like God is giving earth glimpses of Heaven-ness 

Makes us believe man is living in love’s lap of faithfulness 

Makes us want to thirst and hunger for favors His love deploys/employs

Makes us suddenly feel younger in a world of simpler joys

Something about planting season overflows the heart with mirth

Something in the air is teasing graves with melodies of birth

Something about spring's apparel puts a smile upon the face

Pink and yellow, green and purple masterpieces of God's grace

*Something about, when yon cloud tips like a big, watering can

Makes us marvel, like the Psalmist and echo awe's, 'what is man?'

Something about labor halted, grants us opportunity

To be sure God is exalted above likes of you and me 

Something about planting season sings of God’s mercies renewed

Earth is gaping with remission, kindling hymns of gratitude

Seed is throbbing with provision; miracles infuse the sod

Something about planting season draws us to the heart of God

© Janet Martin  

Something about, when yon cloud tips like a big, watering can

Makes us marvel, like the Psalmist and echo awe's, 'what is man?'

* I thought the poem was complete then a good, old thunderstorm rolled through

inspiring one more, the second last stanza. 

(my apologies to those who prefer a quick read)😅💓

..and below is the poem mentioned at the beginning of this post: 

God's Garden

THE Lord God planted a garden

In the first white days of the world,

And He set there an angel warden

In a garment of light enfurled.

So near to the peace of Heaven,

That the hawk might nest with the wren,

For there in the cool of the even

God walked with the first of men.

And I dream that these garden-closes

With their shade and their sun-flecked sod

And their lilies and bowers of roses,

Were laid by the hand of God.

The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth,--

One is nearer God's heart in a garden

Than anywhere else on earth.

For He broke it for us in a garden

Under the olive-trees

Where the angel of strength was the warden

And the soul of the world found ease.

Dorothy Frances Gurney

Unfathomable Ultimate...

 

As attempts were made to summarize and tally

the immense scope and impact of  George Mueller's

work and ministry, not charted in ledgers, accounts, etc.

 they realized its impossibility...

What wonderful inspiration this story of old is to the present generation,

to remind us to remember, ultimately all that matters is this; 

God sees, knows and rewards!

What better hope and reason can there be

Than this, to live and love more earnestly/reverently🙏

If every day we live and love with what God’s grace affords

This truth alone will be enough; God sees, knows and rewards

If, every day we bear in mind the joy still set before

After earth’s griefs are left behind, we would fret less, trust more

If every day we measure most the treasure Heaven stores

How beautiful will be the boast of the Name faith adores

If every day we pay more heed to the things we have heard

We will not be swayed by a creed, mortal and vision-blurred

…if every day we live and love with what God’s grace affords

This truth alone will be enough; God sees, knows and rewards

© Janet Martin

Col.3:23-24

And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men, 

24knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance;

 for[a] you serve the Lord Christ. 

Heb.11:6

But without faith it is impossible to please Him, 

for he who comes to God must believe that He is, 

and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.

All (Lesser) Else

When a man's chief business is to serve and please the Lord,

all his circumstances become his servants...

Robert C. Chapman ( Mr. George Mueller's oldest friend)

from the book George Mueller of Bristow

Here's to a new week and The Best it has to offer!

Because every week/day is like a gift we open

and we never know what is inside

1 Pet.1:3

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope

through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,...

When cherishing Christ every day

Regardless of the circumstance

Devotion's blessings will outweigh

All (lesser) Else that this world grants

When trusting Him with all our hearts

No matter what appears to be

The joy and peace that faith imparts

Is worth all (lesser) else we see

When living for the sake of love

To serve the Giver of our days

Love's return is always enough

To turn all (lesser) Else to praise

©Janet Martin

...Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober,

set your hope on the grace to be brought to you

when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming.

14 As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires

you had when you lived in ignorance.

15 But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do;

16 for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.”[a]

1 Pet.1:13-16

(read the full (glorious) chapter HERE)

I Love May

💖

Happy May Weekend to you, wherever in the world you are!

Below is a glimpse of May from southern Ontario

 I love raindrop-dallop kerplops, like a liquid hip-hop dance...

I love lilac's starry laughter...

I love gardens after winter’s wish-and-dream starts coming true...

I love first bursts of green grandeur every rapt gaze can afford

I love hoary blossom-halos; pink perfume profusely poured

I love flower-garden benches, I love outdoor living rooms

And the thirst that nature quenches from bud-founts gushing with blooms

I love bold gold and red tulips,

 vistas draped in mint and sage...

I love how the trill of birdsong thrills list’ners of every age

I love countryside’s calm broken by tokens of ‘God is good’ (aka tractors and planters)

I love raindrop-dallop kerplops, like a liquid hip-hop dance

I love dandelion speckles, freckles on earth’s countenance

I love lilac’s starry laughter wafting ‘neath yon rafters, blue

I love gardens after winter’s wish-and-dream starts coming true

I love first bursts of green grandeur every rapt gaze can afford

I love hoary blossom-halos; pink perfume profusely poured

I love flower-garden benches, I love outdoor living rooms

And the thirst that nature quenches from bud-founts gushing with blooms

I love bold gold and red tulips, vistas draped in mint and sage

I love how the trill of birdsong thrills list’ners of every age

I love countryside’s calm broken by tokens of ‘God is good’ (aka tractors and planters)

I love sounds like bare feet thrumming to and fro through sweet childhood

I love hope’s eager renewal fueling both hand and heart

I love lush marsh-marigolds perched on brook banks in works of art

I love brooks that weave and glisten, winsome, without weight of care

Beneath weeping willow whispers, through woodlands and meadows fair

I love Lily of the Valley fragrance on a breath of breeze

I love the refurbished cadence of leaf-zephyr symphonies

I love pausing lest haste wastes awe, to taste moments as they drip

From a spigot from a frigate that resembles a cloud-ship

I love look-and-listen landscapes; I love work-and-worship praise

I love mid-afternoon escapes; I love backyard getaways

I love witnessing life’s Author as creation peals and rings

I love standing knee-deep in a coffer filled with May trimmings

I love fresh-picked-mint-tea-parties, I love growing very small

In a world of agog artists conceding One outshines all

I love rambling without reason other than to touch the Hem

Of the artist of each season’s beauty-jeweled diadem

I love petal-fashioned farewells; flower hellos are so sweet

I love May, rife with life-giving vim, as earth and heaven meet

I love hymns of newborn wonder, watching kittens roll and play

I love firmaments that thunder with redemption; I love May

©Janet Martin