Thursday, December 10, 2020

Sons and Heirs (How can it be?)

Glorious truth (for we who believe) to ponder!

Gal.4:4-7
But when the set time had fully come, 
God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law,
  to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship.[b
 Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, 
the Spirit who calls out, “Abba,[c] Father.” 
 So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; 
and since you are his child, 
God has made you also an heir.




Then, when we were still dead in sin 
As lost, as lost can be 
The Son of God came down to man 
To die for you and me 

To die, and thereby conquer death 
Oh, sacred mystery 
To make we, lowly sons of earth 
Part of God’s family 

To do through love what law could not 
To set sin’s captive free 
No longer slaves, but sons of God 
Then heirs of Royalty 

As sons of God, we, sons of men 
Dare not Freedom forsake 
Lest we become enslaved again 
By chains He came to break 

© Janet Martin 

Galatians 5:1
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. 
Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves 
be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

Wednesday, December 9, 2020

Book-Shopping


I keep creating a delightful dilemma;
running out of room for books!


Books are becoming the décor of necessity!😀
 



And any neat and tidy bookcases are constantly be messed! 
Isn't that great?!!😊

Is this then 
Ink-toxication? 
I wonder, what else could it be 
The slur of the ditty 
Makes me rather giddy 
Not as sedate as I should be 

Are these yellow pages 
Imbibed with the ages 
Somehow playing tricks on my brain 
This spell I am under 
Is it real, I wonder 
This feeling is hard to explain 

My logic is muddled 
Will-power befuddled 
I don’t feel at all like myself 
I'm hypnotized, I confess  
By ink-induced happiness 
Lining shelf after shelf after shelf 

Those enticing hard covers
Are like starry-eyed lovers
All calling out, pick me, pick me
Oh, tell me, how do
I choose only one or two
Inhale, exhale, I'll take twenty-three

© Janet Martin 









This Exposé of Day-to-Day...


This was part of a text from my sister last night as I poured out my latest 'woe'
in what feels like a long line of little disappointments/frustrations...
Nothing major (like the crosses so many are called to suffer)
But wow. How her kind words helped me refocus 
and reminded me of a Much Bigger Picture.
Thank-you, Lucy💗


This exposé of day-to-day is so much more, my dears 
Than hip-hooray or plan’s ‘nay, nay’, more than laughter and tears 
This life we live that gives us much to celebrate and grieve 
Is far more than time’s gifted span before we take our leave 

This no return where Live-and-Learn’s law never disappears 
Where rise and fall of sky-high shawl numbers our days and years 
Where dawn to dusk is but the husk of morrow’s brittle vine 
Where Mystery and Poetry and Holy intertwine 

Where what we hold is but the mold to farewell’s swinging door 
Where what we do is but the flue to Something far, far More 
Where we are all far more than small dots on four-seasoned sod 
This exposé of day-to-day is our way back to God 

So, friend, take heart, this sting and smart of love’s longing and loss 
This grin and groan as skin and bone takes up its daily cross 
This wrenching pain of ‘try again’, this utter need for grace 
Is but the span twixt God and man before we see His face 

© Janet Martin 


2 Cor.4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, 
but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, 
but what is unseen is eternal.

I know I've shared this version before but I love it






Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Disappointments, We All Get 'Em...


It feels like it's been a stretch
 of vexing little set-backs and disappointments; 
(just life-headaches, but...)
The latest:
I opened a pack of pre-ordered printed Christmas photos and the first thing I see is this...


I had a terrible (well, for technically-challenged me) time getting everything to fit and save 
and didn't notice the date had reverted back to the template setting??😐
That's all I can figure out though I thought I checked everything thrice!!
...so nothing to do but fix it; At least it's not a wedding invitation or something like that!

 
Earlier this month a bright spot was delivered in form of apple pie 
courtesy of many volunteers from our church
assembling them for our young families  
as an encouragement during these trying Covid-times.
(No! We are not considered 'younger family'😊)
 but I had the honour of writing a poem for
 the lids of the pie-boxes and received a pie as a thank-you!
Because someone had framed the poem 
in lovely autumn- artwork I hung it on the fridge. 
Tonight I reread it and decided this coming weekend 
we are baking the pie to enjoy,
and forget disappointments for a bit!


Victoria comforted me with these words
'Sure, in the big picture these are little things
but in the moment they still hurt💛

She makes me want to count my blessings, 
not my disappointments!
And she is one of our best!

What Faith Is This?

How To Please God-Charles Spurgeon 



And without faith it is impossible to please God, 
because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists 
and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.
Heb.11:6

A few sermon-excerpts; 

'this faith must believe that there is a great reward in keeping his commandments, 
that He does hear prayer, 
that He does grant great blessings to those who truly seek Him.

We must believe this or else there is no real seeking of Him.

If we believe in God 
'we must believe that he exists 
and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him'.
for,
'where trust has died out love has always died out too'!

Modern Theology...takes man from what is Written to what is thought.
It does not allow the sovereign Authority of Revelation and in disallowing that
their very foundations are removed, and much of the abounding vice of this day is
the direct result of this abounding unbelief in God, this
philosophical mistrust in Infinite Wisdom

A man only believes that which affects his life,
- Charles Spurgeon from the Sermon How To Please God 

What faith is this that we profess? 
Is what we cannot see 
That which turns would-be commonness 
Into holy, holy 

Faith without works is dead as dirt 
A cold and clanging bell 
Its specious substitutions flirt 
With godless death and hell 

What faith is this that we profane 
When we with pious nod 
Pronounce its syllables in vain 
With hearts afar from God 

What is this faith, mighty to save 
That sires sacred fear 
Is it the Confidence/Righteousness we have 
Or religious veneer 

Better to be without our eyes 
Or ears or homes or food 
Than to forsake Faith’s Enterprise 
And thus, God who is good 

Without faith we are naked, poor 
Lost, hopeless and condemned 
A ship without anchor secure 
A Soul without a Friend 

‘Without faith’ who would dare to wear 
Such a most awful plaque 
Or who would choose faithless despair 
If we beheld its lack 

In this land of revivals, bibles, 
Sunday morning church 
How is it that so much else rivals 
He who loved us first? 

What faith is this if once declared 
No work will prove its life 
What faith is this if it runs scared 
Beneath the Sculptor’s knife 

What faith were this that could attain 
The crown without the cross 
Or think ‘without works’ will retain 
Faith’s gain without its loss 

God is not mocked; no idol, He 
To put upon some shelf 
To gaze at whilst our loyalty 
Is faithful first, to Self 

Faith is Belief in One True God 
Its Must, a gift of grace 
A trust that very few applaud 
And fewer yet embrace 

Faith is greater than futile law 
Or works that cannot save 
Faith first believes, with humble awe 
God’s glorious gift of grace 

How can we approach Mercy’s throne 
Or know His love is just 
Without the essence of faith’s terms 
Belief and utter trust 

Ah, living, loving lasting faith 
In Jesus Christ, our Lord 
What profit hath each gifted breath 
If we miss faith’s reward 

Faith drives afar doubt’s shadowland 
And when things are the worst 
It reaches out and takes the Hand 
Of He who loved us first 

Oh, Spirit of the living God
Send home the Truth of Thee
By the power which saints applaud
Through faith that sets us free 

...free from fear's shackles, can it be
Anxiety and dread
Are swallowed up in victory
As we choose Faith instead 


© Janet Martin 

Momentous Exodus

 


Before the Door is closed 
To opportunity 
Lord, help us find its uttermost 
Potentiality 

Not with a host of Stuff 
To boast of sweet success 
But with the accolades of love 
Turned into holiness

Before the Door is closed 
To what Time will allow 
Lord, show us how to make the most 
Of its Momentous Now

Amen 

© Janet Martin 

 

 

A Face-to-Face With Father Time (no mask required ;-)

 

Yesterday included a tour along a photo-path,
How bitterest-sweetest is Time's Aftermath
.and mean-whilst our
water-woe saga continues😢




So far they have discovered the alarm's sensor-ball stuck so it did
not notify us that the pump in the tank,  installed during previous water-woes
had taken a holiday!

“Man who is born of woman 
Is of few days 
and full of trouble.
Job 14:1

But we all know 
both highs and lows 
follow the same path to 
What Once Was!


You leave, and do not grieve the love 
In hours we held dear 
As echoes ride thy timbre of 
A day-week-month, then year 

How doth thy gossamer design 
Affixed with grin and groan 
Plant and purge Verge’s vapour vine 
In plots of skin and bone 

Where lowest lows and highest highs 
And all points in between 
Are reduced to the husk of sighs 
Where starry eyes had been 

You stretch and squeeze and startle us 
With ways as old as you 
But to the student-heart of us 
It feels foreign and new 

As we, with brunt of blue-gray-gold 
Become attuned to things 
Like what is hinged to have-and-hold 
With fluttering heart-strings 

I do not picture you as crass
But oh, the art you steal
Takes the apprentice of your class
Aback at how we feel

You leave behind the aftermath 
Of all you put us through 
Then kindly grace life’s beaten path 
With Today, Ever New 

© Janet Martin


Monday, December 7, 2020

Ditty For December's Bitty Days


Westward streams the stead of morning through a lower, lesser sky 
Sweeps through noontide, soon soft-tuning dusk’s dark strings with lullaby




Woo me with your wisp of welkin ere your dusk of purple-blue 
Gathers what remains of daylight into Bygone’s phantom flue 

Westward streams the stead of morning through a lower, lesser sky 
Sweeps through noontide, soon soft-tuning dusk’s dark strings with lullaby 

Smooth the stark and stilly scene of soon-twilight-enshrouded-bars 
With a probe at gleaming embers stoked into a show of stars 

Ere the flare of whispers winnows into farewell-blue chambray 
Wake within me keened awareness to what weaves each yesterday 

Tuck the cold curves of December beneath soft white-tumbled banks 
Fill frosted panes of Remember with panoramas of thanks 

© Janet Martin