Tempted As We Are

Might I have summoned

Those angels innumerable

Proved all my claims

From Pilate’s curious court?

Heaven’s defense

For Heaven’s matchless envoy

Full might and main

To bring the good report?

And so much sweat

With passion’s blood co-mingling

Thrice I had prayed

Removal of this trial

But all was set

And blood must bring the blessing.

Lamb’s life expended

To gain my Father’s smile.

(Hebrews 5: 8, 9)

Image by Greg Olsen

I Lay Them Upon Your Altar (John 17)


Father, I have watched
Over these men.
Have taken them your images
Of community free
From retaliation.
Of joy in the
Rendering of mercy.
Of good report
On those who struggle,
With only the half known.
Of fulness of days
Free from fear of supply,
From fear of man.

I have set them
To wandering.
Ambassadors of a realm
Not yet seen.
Sporadically meeting the test.
Boiling often in self-hurt.
Turning, of times,
To look back from the plough.
Vying for place.
Vying for glory.
Missing often the real gems
Delivered with
No special fanfare.

And now I leave,
So much so seemingly
But You have given them me.
Persevering to their
Appointed destiny.
All but the one with the purse.
I trust You
For their well-being.
I trust You for the prophecies
Which speak of me.
Quickly now…
To my offering.


Musings of Messiah

painting by james tissot

You have no idea. But try anyway, would you?

I took myself to that garden, that familiar prayer garden, ‘neath the olives. Brought my buddies along. Asked three of them to come, sit closer in the cold and darkness.

They tried, bless ‘em, but soon fell asleep. How often when people are overwhelmed by circumstances and the fast pace of events. How often do they cloud up and doze off out of sheer self-defense.

But I had stupendous business at hand. Placed into their bodies and circumstances and pullings and whisperings…I had to obey. The Father’s Plan depended upon it. And I was His to do and to demand as He saw fit.

I wasn’t so much afraid of a Cross or of ridicule. I was terrified of losing the sense of His touch and listening ear. Had never happened before as I had grown up from stage to stage here on this little blue-and-green place full of the ones we loved.

I vented, I pleaded, I reminded. I looked down several times to see blood issuing from places where it ought not.

The Evangelist would later say that I began to be “troubled and sore amazed”.

Don’t forget, the omniscient thing I had left behind in the Heavenlies for a season. I hurt, and I heard the swan-song of the Accuser. Not so much to frighten me, but to insinuate that all the beloved ones could never be rescued; could never be removed from his clutches.

Finally, over and above all the sweats and bleeding, and taunting, tension and tears, I heard again the promises of my Father through the words of Psalmist David. I heard and believed. I would come through death. I would not suffer corruption. I would walk again in glorious fellowship.

A comforting presence drew near with a cooling wind through the branches; probably an angel. He was my most tangible companion at that moment.

I got up off the ground; watched my buddies sleeping for a couple more minutes; noticed the torches of Judas and henchman moving  toward us up the slope…


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Married and father of two. Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Workplace health and safety professional. Blogger. Poet. Nature hiker. History buff. Inspirational writer. Newsboy for Jesus.

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