Door-Weighs

Set a guard over my mouth, LORD; keep watch over the door of my lips.

Psalm 141:3

this devotion from the other day...

This poem was embarrassingly easy to write😐

Ah, there is a door that opens and spills invisible ink

It reveals forums within us in the framework of a wink

Where the things that we keep hidden (by the grace of God) unheard

Can expose a world unbidden in the quick slip of a word

When Self seeks the throne of glory rather than humility

One small word can tell a story quite uncomplimentary

So if each day we would be prepared, before feet hit the floor

We ought to pray that God would set a watch upon That Door

…that he would let us weigh the motive when ‘word’ wants to spout

And help us hold back quick reaction love can live without

For the weight of our opinion before it is fit to share

Should be measured, poured and sifted through the filter of meek prayer

© Janet Martin

Whether-bound...

 As we try to plan

the way man is prone to do

we are realizing

in these unprecedented times

how uncertain the temporal is!
We don't know whether
 things will ever be what we considered 'normal' again...

We are (hopefully) reevaluating our loves and lives

with a more sober reckoning

Jer.17: 7-10

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water,
that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

The heart is deceitful above all things,
and desperately sick;
who can understand it?
“I the Lord search the heart
and test the mind,^b
to give every man according to his ways,
according to the fruit of his deeds.”

Whether wearing wide-eyed wonder

Whether tethered to the plow

As the stead of seasons thunders

Through the ever-bearing Now

Whether the weather is glorious

Or it roars like a wild bull

We find so much waiting for us

When we live to be thankful

In love’s heart-knocks we encounter

In the hooray or oh-no

It does not change Mercy’s author

Or the grace whereby we go

Then, whether moaning or merry

Whether grin-giddy or grim

We will find it secondary

When we live to worship Him

Whether tranquil or white-knuckled

As we face the Great Unknown

Whether anxious or untroubled

Footloose or worked to the bone

In the quick of joy or sorrow

In the thick of pray and fight

We will find hope for tomorrow

When we live by faith, not sight

© Janet Martin

Bottomless Possibility

Wisp of feathered cloud-frond, a quill
For blue sky full of ink

I wonder what words wait to spill

What heaven-poets think

Will it paint scenes of paradise

Blue-bonnet dappled field

Or gorgeous out-pouring of skies

As night’s black borders yield

Or will it run our fingers through

A labyrinth of stars

To wonder at the avenue

Of Jupiter and Mars

Perhaps a sweet and tender hymn

Of joyful gratitude

As May-minstrels soft strum the limb

With springs green-song renewed

Or will it tease the sense of smell

With blossom-heady lane

Or pungent lure of fresh-turned fell

And earth, after the rain

 

© Janet Martin

Finessed/Finest Whispers

Who is this who obscures My counsel

by words without knowledge?a

Now brace yourselfb like a man;

I will question you, and you shall inform Me.c

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?

Tell Me, if you have understanding.

Who fixed its measurements? Surely you know!

 Job 38:2-5

 In your days, have you commanded the morning

or assigned the dawn its place,

that it might spread to the ends of the earth

and shake the wicked out of it? 

Job 38:12-13

 (read the whole glorious chapter of Job 38 here)

Oh, the splendid finesse of a sunrise

Grandly arranged on a canvas of air

No imitation/limitations canst nearly compare

To He who authors the glory of skies

Oh, the gentle caress of earth’s sow’r

Spreading post-winter’s bare table with green

Breaking the bud primed with systems unseen

(We only witness the unfolding flow’r)

Oh, pied grandeur of love’s art gallery

Free for the taking with eyes, not with hands

Unearthing goodness and mercy’s commands

With outer fringes of His majesty

Oh, the stages that showcase the seasons

Where what should be old is new ev’ry time

New as the billow of blossoms that chime

From a belfry of sunbeam and breeze-songs

Oh, the Whisper that wakes more than duty

Probing soul-pockets  still clenched like a fist

Look; as the locket of (human) nature is kissed

It yields and the branch burgeons with beauty

© Janet Martin