Whatever is Pure - March 2012
Love Me Through
“...neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
©2012 Vickie Chapman
Christ gave His life at Calvary
Christ conquered the enemy
Christ was wounded for our sins
Christs sacrifice gave us assurance that we can be forgiven
His death brought us new life
He rose again in victory
He alone reigns in majesty and righteousness
Only he can set us free
We need to believe that He died and rose again
We need to believe this in our hearts and confess with our tongue
Then we can accept Him and be truly forgiven
Then our hearts can sing a new song
His love is endless
His love offers healing
His love brings forgiveness
His love is unyielding
We can feel loved instead of unloved
Beauty for ashes
Love over self hatred
His lights covers the darkness
My heart was broken
I tried to outrun His love
I needed to accept His forgiveness
He heard my desperate cries from His place above
He reached down and loved me
I am loved no matter what I may say or do
He is the only one who can set me free
He sash promised me His love and a life brand new
I need to accept His love and I struggle with this
I have been abandoned by earthly parents
I have felt rejected and worthless
The Lord has promised
Never will I leave or forsake thee
I have promised you a hope and a future
All you have to do is trust and obey me
I will make your life worthy and brand new
© 2011 Carol
Contact the author for permission to reprint or use in any format.
BeautifulOn a hilltop a lifeless rose bowed low under the burden of drought and gravity. From time to time the stems shook their thorns at the wind and for a moment it looked as if their passive resistance would be met with a quick snap and fall to the ground. It was an ugly spectacle with its asymmetrical form subjected to the elements. With wrinkled leaves and browned buds the rose awaited resurrection when the sun would rise warm again in the spring sky and the clouds would burst with rain. For the time being though it was dormant, for the time being no life giving oxygen emanated from its dessicated leaves, for the time being it was lifeless. It was not a rose worth loving, or so it was believed.
On a hilltop a rose was planted. Its roots ran deep of necessity for there was none to nourish it. If you cared to notice it your heart might have briefly swelled with sympathy, and you might have been compelled to pour a drink of water on its naked limbs. But then again, you might not have. You might have thought to yourself “Who would be so foolish to plant such an ugly rose in such an awkward place? Let it die, it is not my responsibility, after all, it is just an ugly dying rose.” You probably would have thought such things.
On a hilltop a rose was planted and it was beautiful. With the breath of life withdrawn from its lungs it breathed new life into humanity. Its asymmetrical stems set the world aright and restores symmetry, even now, for those who will choose to make straight their crooked paths. Its path leads to a city on a hill for all to see. Its thorns a crown of glory, a crown earned not given, for any who aspire to the regal beauty of a rose. With new eyes we see beauty that renders us speechless. Speechless it uttered the strange yet sacred poetry of dying breaths and groans–one can scarce not notice the dissonant rhythm of providence.
For six hours one Friday the rose of Sharon stretched forth in full bloom, confounded our aesthetic sensibilities, and redefined beauty.
Who among us will be beautiful like a rose?
Song of Solomon 2:1 I am a rose of Sharon, a lilly of the valleys. . ©2012 Megan Carus
Please email author for permission to reprint or use in any format.
Praise To The One
Luke 24 1-12 (NIV) On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb.They found the stone rolled away from the tomb,but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them.In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee:’The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ “Then they remembered his words.
When they came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the Eleven and to all the others.It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles.But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense.Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.
I had the joy of being part of an impromptu group of Christian singles that met together one Easter Saturday for a potluck dinner. Most of us had no family in our city and many of us would have spent the entire weekend alone if not for this little get together. We feasted on fellowship, laughter and affectionate ribbing just as much as we feasted on roast beef and all the trimmings. After the dishes were done and the leftovers were packaged up for the bachelors in our midst, we drifted into the living room. Once again, we enjoyed each other’s company, the atmosphere light and jovial.
There came a moment when we all sat in quiet contentment, allowing the worship CDs that our host had pre-programmed into his player earlier that afternoon to be heard. The presence of the Lord was palatable, sweet and easy. We slipped into a time of spontaneous prayer and worship that lasted for hours. When next I looked at the clock, it was 4:30 AM. In consideration of our host, the party dispersed shortly after. We had been in prayer for over 6 hours.
I was loathe to leave God's presence, however! On our way home, my two traveling companions echoed my sentiment. We didn’t want to go home. We wanted more. We felt a sense of anticipation and decided to watch the sunrise. We picked a great vantage point in a park that overlooked our city. Patiently, we waited for the first rays of light to appear and we were rewarded with a gradual dawn. In the first light, we opened the car windows and cranked up the worship music. My friends couldn’t contain their joy and they danced on top of that hill as we sang. “Praise to the One, who gave us His Son.” I could barely get the words out, so full was my heart.
We were a small group of women, much like the group that made their way down to Jesus’ tomb that first Easter morning. They had brought their offering of spices to anoint his body. It was all they could think to do in thanks for all Jesus had done for them. He had brought freedom to their lives, healed their loved ones and whispered hope into their hearts when he was alive. Their gifts of costly spices were only symbols of the bittersweet gratitude they felt in the early dawn as they steeled themselves to face the unpleasant task that lay ahead. Their willingness to sacrifice their time and to lay bare their grieving hearts to serve their master one last time was met with the greatest reward of all. They were the first to hear the joyous news. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!” Moreover, they were the first of mankind given the privilege of carrying that news to the rest of the world.
Father God, thank you for your Son, thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for your victory over death. Thank you that you accept our heart sacrifices as they are, whether they are from hearts broken in sorrow or hearts overflowing in joy. We bring our very selves to you as an offering of thanks, knowing that through your Son, our offering is more than acceptable in your sight.
As of May 2012, "WHATEVER IS PURE" ARCHIVES will no longer be seeking submissions. As most authors and poets now have their own blogs, we noticed a significant drop in submissions over the past year and felt it was best to move on to other endeavors.