The rose – supreme in gardens’s view.
Fragrant, embracing its bloom.
Marks each new petal with its aroma.
Come to this welcoming room.
There once was a rose – bloomed late in life,
Watered by God’s word.
Opened wide, embraced by his side.
The greatest growth she ever heard.
She found out that God’s grace had no fences
To limit those gifts she’d receive.
Never too old, nor withered at all;
Of this she mostly surely believed.
Inhibited in this life we live –
Its fulness can’t fully be known.
Until then at last in heaven we see
The rose blooming at God’s garden throne.
When I was young I saw the holy ghost as casper, dressed in white.
He was so nice and non-threatening; he’d help to make things right.
A little spooky, though, at times, for what else could he be?
A ghost, a spirit, not a man – someone I could not see.
I did surmise that God the Father was the big one there.
Jesus the son was here, also, but only for holiday fair.
But what purpose did this one serve, whose being is mystery.
I guess he shows us that God, himself, is someone you can see.
This time he’s seen by movement-in fire and through the wind.
One needs not eyes to see the prize, but behold the dark rescind.
Go deeper than what you do feel to sense this touch of heav’n.
He is the way you know God’s there. He’s from our Savior given.
Do not attempt to meet him where the mystic presence flies.
He is not there, he’s not a force, but you meet him with your cries.
And when he comes he will not come to center on his name.
He’ll lead you to the one in whom you’ll never be the same.
The law of first mention of this term “thanksgiving” is found in an
Old Testament text.
Leviticus 7:11 speaks of a peace offering to heaven. Let’s examine
what in Scripture comes next.
The peace or fellowship offering included thanksgiving, and that for
a Christian is quite real.
Here the blood was so shed – both male and female had bled. God
made access for all through this meal.
More than a holiday table or words said in a fable, thanksgiving was
God’s relational feast.
Any summoned could come, if they approached through the Son.
Christ died for the best and least.
When the invitation is made, the price has been paid. God’s heart
was embossed on that call.
His grand table was set – You, He did not forget. This Thanksgiving
meal is one and for all.
The centerpiece of thankfulness grabs each one round the bend.
Its focus is a grateful heart; that’s where the thanks begin.
The source of thankfulness does start from our Ancient of Days,
And we should let God know we appreciate all He does and says.
The centerpiece of God’s own grace touches each one on their plate.
We’re nourished by the food He made upon this earthen gate.
Each one we love extends the blessings we have found in Him.
How suitable that on this day, we spend it with our kin.
This table that we all enjoy reflects eternal gain,
Where we will sit with Jesus, who removed our guilty stains.
The Marriage Supper of the Lamb welcomes God’s table there,
Our hearts will melt before the One who made our hearts prepared.
Shiny, moist eyes appear on the scene.
A fountain of water they’ve found.
Continuing torrents of watery pain,
With dried up persons around.
A filmy layer forms on the eye
As tears, their frequence find.
Droplets caught on window sills
Below the hazy mind.
Lacy veils cannot contain the pain
Beneath the sheer.
The sparkle of the newly formed refrain,
You’ll know that tears are near.
Thanks for pointing out a sunrise, through the sunset we did see.
All the beauty that awaits us in the new day given so free.
So, I pray that you see through my eyes that upward forward glare,
That with our Lord’s creative touch, he shows what he’s doing there.
May the sunset that you’re feeling now rise to meet the hopeful dawn.
Our Lord understands your aching heart. Let his sunrise lead you on.
Enroute to sing about Him, Dottie met Him face to face.
With heaven’s harmonies blazing, she approached the praising place.
She, earth’s incubator of worship, found herself then fully born,
and the songs she gave to Jesus sounded like salvation’s horn.
Suddenly her hands received the jewel from God’s own eternal space;
lt, the song God wrote for Dottie, did describe amazing grace.
This song, which held its high notes, with the absence of life’s own griefs,
was a crescendo of deliverance, revealing all her sound beliefs.
Dottie’s songs, in grand summation, were the gifts to God returned,
and God’s song welcomed the parchment upon whom its lessons were learned.
I knew not Gordon in this life, but I met him through his son.
Dennis shared the Gordon story of the grace that Calvary won.
Your Gordon fought the fight of faith, ushering him into God’s arms.
Now he’s safe inside the heart of God and is free from earthly harm.
Recently you celebrated the ninety years he walked upon this earth.
How blessed you were to share those tears, for you know now what they’re worth.
Your tears water the garden left, to show the promise made –
That living for the Savior produces blossoms that will not fade.
Now the tears flow once again at loss, yet we know what Gordon’s found.
He met the Heavenly Father through his Son, and at death was glory bound.
First Sergeant Gregory Winckler drew a line in the sand.
He fought the battle homeward that his soldiers would understand.
With the First Combat Brigade team, he awaited their return,
Nobly fighting for his own life, in a lesson we should learn.
Don’t forget about the warriors as they come across the shore.
They’re a constant pride in motion of the strength we have and more.
It’s also a great reminder of what our Lord, the Savior gave.
When on Calvary He paid our penalty, He died so we’d be saved.
And just like Sergeant Winckler, who waited for their return to die,
Our Lord waits for our salvation, so we’ll be at His home on high.
This dear Sergeant battled on in pain, with his eyes focused in view.
Please know Jesus died so we’d be safe. Is He waiting now for you?
Peering at the sky one night, I saw the scene unfold.
It came to me in little parts, so I could just behold.
Sno-capped mountains, suspended in air,
The view from the window, breathtaking to share.
Peaks swirled upward, angled to show
The look of a snow cap, ready to go.
The white and the blue clouds flowing along,
Billow softly forward as a cotton-tipped swan.
It can’t be imitated; it’s dimensions grow free.
What a lovely canopy that night was opened to me.
Bursting through the clouds, a spotlight was there
Of a lighthouse, shining on us, looking out for us here.
It peaked through the darkened spots of these, if you will.
It gave a great effect as it pierced through this window sill.
This form can change its wonder, and be seen as waves that roll.
Crashing to the shore and then, looking like a scroll.
It’s violent, yet relaxing; it makes you want some more.
You find yourself examining just whom god did this for.
From one view comes the sand dunes, so remote, they look real bare.
Yet it needs no explanation; its purpose is still there.
One cannot view the entire scope of this illustrious sky,
Unless you see the piercing face of he, to whom we cry.
He made it so we’d see his work, since it is hard to view
His work at all in our own lives; we act as if he’s through.
The first act opens curtain clouds and shows the stage- that’s
All. It is too bad we do not wait to catch his curtain
When he returns, he will use these; the very clouds we love.
Notice the color and form unfold; he’ll come back from above.