More Than Lip-service...

Even though plucking parsley is not on the top of my I-can-hardly-wait-to-do-this list,

 and even though I washed all the bedding and the neighbor

thought it was a nice day to haul liquid manure:(

and even though I ran out of paint so the bench is almost red instead of red,

even though...all-those-things-we-cannot-change-and-would-if-we-could,

God is good!

So is Canadian Ice-wine Tea (and if you drink it while plucking parsley and staring at an almost red bench against a back-drop of zinnias and perfect blue sky, dreaming about where one could put an almost red bench, and what one could put on it!!)

...why, then the mundane is quite extra-ordinary!

but it does nothing for the smell of laundry....

back to work!

The little guys I babysit come later on Thursdays and stay for supper.
One of them LOVES corn chowder so I want to be done with the parsley in time to make a pot of chowder(fresh parsley is SO yummy in it)

 

More than lip-service

Oh Lord, let it be

More than a noise on my tongue

In every day

In every way

Make my life a thank-you song

Keen outer senses

To touch-taste-see-hear

In awed awareness of You

Then let the inner man

Pour out his fear

In humble worship to You

More than lip-service

Let my boasting be

More than fond, fleeting applause

In every day

In every way

Let serving Christ be my cause

© Janet Martin

 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’

  This is the first and greatest commandment.  

 And the second is like it: 

‘Love your neighbor as yourself.

Matt; 22:37-39

"Thank-You"

It’s all I have,

There should be more

For all You say and do 

But all that I can think of, 

Lord, 

Is simply this;  

“Thank You” 

The same word that I give to those

Who hold a door or lend a hand

Is the word that I use

For You 

and Your shed blood

But oh,

You understand

"Thank-you"

© Janet Martin

Dear Job...

Dear Job,

Lately I have been struggling

The Spirit and the flesh

Seem quite at odds within this rack

Of sorry humanness

So, I would like to ask you

For advice on how to be

The person God intended

Job, can you help me?

I’ve worn sack-cloth and ashes

And it didn’t change a thing

I’ve wept and wailed and questioned God

On ‘why this suffering?’

And everyone that stands around

to offer up their views

makes me quite cross because they’ve never

stumbled in my shoes

or sat where everybody points

and suggests that perhaps

I’ve been dreadfully wicked

And thus provoked God’s wrath

I stagger in a costume

Drained of joy and energy

A mind and body battleground,

Oh Job, can you help me?

From: Physically and mentally depleted

Dear physically and mentally depleted;

The body is a temple, not an idol, sometimes we

Get so caught up in ‘my-my’ hurt

That we neglect to see

How ‘God in us’, Immanuel

Desires that we trust

Instead of seeking answers

In these agonies of dust

Sack-cloth and ashes cannot change

That place where change must start

Yet, often we ourselves estrange

The Hand the moves the heart

...now tell me, foolish woman 

Shall we accept only the good?

And while bulging jowls drip

Curse God because He tests the faith

We boast from fattened lips

Say, where were you when God laid out

The foundations of earth

Or measured its dimensions

Or breathed very Time to birth?

Brace yourself if you so dare

To challenge God with ‘why’

Then answer,

Where were you when He

Splayed seas beneath the sky

And set the bars of shore in place

Earth’s oceans to contain

And hung the galaxies in space

And cut channels for rain

Dare you correct the One who spawned

Leviathan's great might

Or spreads the sky like hard, cast bronze 

Beneath the womb of Light?

Tell me, how do the clouds hang, poised?

Then, can this cloth explain

The mind of He whose excellence

No vessel can contain?

And then, when He says trust in Me

Why is it not enough?

Why do you think you need to see

The mystery of His Love?

For who of us has understood

The thoughts of Holy God

Will you only accept the good?

Tell me, fool-headed clod

Why is it not enough to know

Without reason revealed?

Since Time began, why is it man

Has argued and appealed

where changeless through the ages still

God’s reply vexes dust

“Do not dismay, be not afraid

Believe in Me and trust”

Speaking from experience,

Your humble servant, Job

This month each person in our writer's group was assigned to seek advice from a Bible-character.

Mine was Job.

Have you read the Book of Job lately?

What a, what a book!! 

This poem was shamefully easy to write as I drew

from my lack-of-trust training...

because every fear I have

is a matter of trust

...the more I trust

the less I fear.

Mercy-grail

From vaults of sheer magnificence

Love’s tenderness bestows

To mankind’s broken testaments

Heaven’s unfolding rose

Mercy does not harden the skies

He melts the brooding deeps

And to man’s shattered paradise

Love’s countless blessing heaps

And even though Mercy has borne

Witness to shame and pride

Still, still He gilds darkness with morn

And flings the night aside

From outer realms to earth’s front doors

Compassion spills its sea

As Heaven’s mercy-grail out-pours

Today to you and me

Its golden streams rend onyx tress

His mercy never fails

In spite of mankind’s brokenness

God’s faithfulness prevails

© Janet Martin