With Jesus Back 1-5-13

The clouds had wept, yet sun had kept
enough light on my mind -
that I could see weak memories -
that I could never find.

I, at a loss, to see this cross
and of its fuller meaning -
had pondered some and when was done
had saw it all as 'feeling'.

But truth be told, it is of old,
the crafty serpent lied.
So overflowed, that grace of gold,
the day that Jesus died.

Was God's design that sunlight shine
on my eternal soul?
Did I assess my faithfulness?
For He is in control!

A ray of hope, a saving rope
with hallowed grace divine -
relieved my stress through Holiness
for true forgiveness, mine.

When faith survived, death was deprived
on earth, as up above.
Death isn't black. With Jesus back
I'm flooded with His love!

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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An Old Abandoned Cabin 11-4-12

Nestled in a valley in a clearing of large oak,

while sunlight touched but treetops where the baby robins woke,

stood an old abandoned cabin that had seen some better days,

had once seen better fam'lies and had once seen better ways.

A little stream meandered by with water clean and pure

that seemed to say, "Come drink from me.  Your problems, I will cure."

And sparkled bright, the diamonds that had glistened in the sky,

as did the dew on God's green earth that blessed the patient eye.

Hither, yon the squirrels worked and did what squirrels do.

They shared their ample spacious trees where little finches flew -

where trees wore brilliant yellow, red and golden colored suits

where leaves had wiggled in the breeze among leftover fruits.

But when the sun had cleared the hill and peeked between the trees

exposing all the guilt of man and sin that Heaven sees -

it brought to light the darkness deep inside those timbered wall,

where dust and cobwebs fought a war and won man's mighty fall.

Now just a second, let's step back and tell me how they can -

how tiny little spiders beat the big and mighty man?

Just maybe, man with ego big, was thought too big to fail -

and now the dust and spiderwebs own every board and nail.

That cabin once was filled with 'men', with love and life and health,

but now sits there abandoned and long gone his pride and wealth.

I once knew well the fam'ly who had lived inside those walls

of that abandoned cabin where our Savior's voice still calls.

If mighty man's big head was pulled along with his conceit

from clouds so he'd descend back down and settle on his feet -

then maybe he could still enjoy the cabin in the trees

and persevere through patience with the autumn colored leaves -

that dance above the cabin roof, that seem to taunt en mass -

to each and every one of us until possessions pass -

that man was beaten down by bugs who haven't any clue

that God is still in full control over me and you...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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When We Don't Talk 7-13-12

I know that you get busy with the things that have to be,

but oh, if you could put yourselves in my shoes so you'd see...

a world imploding inward and- that leaves me high and dry,

a world that's ever-changing and- still makes me hurt and cry.

Again, another tune is heard. Another text arrives.

You're tuning out the real world, ignoring real lives.

Oblivious to what's around, engrossed inside your games,

you wouldn't really know it if your house was up in flames.

Bad habits, you're addicted to- on games of every kind,

on tunes and 'apps' that master you- control and seize your mind.

You're focused on your chat or text- and yes, that's really why

you cannot hear the words I speak or look me in the eye.

There's many little gadgets in, your world of make-believe.

They hold your full attention in, that world so hard to leave.

But one day you will not escape. Temptation's underneath,

where it conceives great weeping and- the gnashing too, of teeth.

I do not need those gadgets there, but oh, I love to hear

your "please's" and your "thank you's" as- you pray from year to year.

My pain was most unbearable when I was crucified,

so don't forget to talk to Me and set your world aside.

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Yes, pain is quite unbearable, when children do not call.

They think our conversations are, most trivial and small.

This poem is about a world that will grow gravely grim -

and now we know, how Jesus feels- when we don't talk to Him...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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1 Thessalonians 5: 12-22 (NASB)

12 But we request of you, brethren, that you appreciate those who diligently labor among you,

and have charge over you in the Lord and give you instruction,

13 and that you esteem them very highly in love because of their work.

Live in peace with one another.

14 We urge you, brethren, admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted,

help the weak, be patient with everyone.

15 See that no one repays another with evil for evil,

but always seek after that which is good for one another and for all people.

16 Rejoice always;

17 pray without ceasing;

18 in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

19 Do not quench the Spirit; 20 do not despise prophetic utterances.

21 But examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good;

22 abstain from every form of evil.