"The most important of life's battles is the one we fight daily in the silent chambers of the soul."

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Teardrops of the Summer Rain

Some people feel the rain, others just get wet.

The summer rays heat my skin causing a feeling of just dry. The dust blows at me as I try to finish the last of the fields mowing.
The tractor's pto bogs down under the weight of the thick grass. I push on feeling the wind picking up cooling my face. I lick the
sweat off my lips....muscles ache as I try to hold on over ridges and gullies. "Oof!" She drops down a sharp drop off shaking my teeth.
Summer rain is coming. I hear the rumble in the distance drawing closer. My hair stands on end from the static electricity.
Gray clouds darken the sky.....taking almost macabe shapes. Going from grey to black...lightening flashes in its arcaic way
across the sky...touching cloud to cloud. I push on. How many times have I been? Trying to outrun the summer rain.
I stop. Getting off the tractor the downpour begins. Drops of cool water rivulets run down my skin. Refreshing me of the heat. I raise
my face to feel it washing the dust from my eyes. I stick out my toungue to taste fresh taste of rainwater God has provided.
I turn my hands palms up to feel the droplets massage the pain of work from my hands.
But mostly I sense the water run down my cheeks. Can't tell if its rain or my tears. Noone can see u crying they say when its
raining. I try to remember who I once was as a carefree youth and who I have become as jaded adult. So jaded that I feel
all who come into contact with me, I cut. What I become? I've cried these tears in moments of joy and in moments of great pain.
I cried them at my birth, and will cry them at my death. But now they are enveloped in a collage of teardrops. These rainwaters
at one time were part of the oceans but, also teardrops of someone who once lived. Someone who felt the same emotions I feel
right now. So it would seem the tears of the ages fall with this summer rain. But it does little to silence thunderings of
my hurting heart. Love they say heals this pain. The love of a woman, the love of a child, the love of a parent...but ultimately
they all go away in the end. Leaving you standing alone searching the skies for answers.
I remove my soaked t-shirt to wipe my face. The smell of the summer rain leaves a fresh odor to the air.

 Then I hear it...the birds calling. Calling out sounds of happiness. For they are
receiving what they need.And I remember the verse from Matthew 10:31...."So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."
I know I needed to be reminded of that.
But I am afraid. Afraid that I can't love. That I've forgotten how. I pick a pink flower from the bush. Each bulb has opened
to take in the life the summer rain brings. The white center is surrounded by a darker pink giving it a kalidescope look. Turning
the blossom I just picked, I notice the colors moving in and out as I spin it. How beautiful! No man could ever make something
this exquisite and unique. One of a kind in its loveliness. How I wish that I could love and unclench my fist. To let the blossom
bulb of my heart be opened. The summer rain opened the pedals but alas, the tears of my jaded heart fall to the ground of
bitterness and stay.
"God, my prayer is that one day you will let loose all the tears I have for the one I will love. So it becomes a downpour so strong
that the blooms of love can once again be seen by all. Until that day, Father, save them in your bottles of rememberance. Amen."
by

Lance Gargus

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Summer Is Now Past, Autumn Has Begun

thou hast made summer and winter.
Psalm 74:17

"Trees have their seasons at certain times of the year when they bring forth fruit; but a Christian is for all seasons."
Ralph Brownrig

                                                   Summer is now past, Autumn has begun,



And our thoughts switch to winter,



with its joy of winter fun.







But as Autumn has fallen, so have many of the leaves,



Their myriad colors gorging the ground,



dressing the landscape, protecting the trees.







The frost in the air, the crisp nip in the breeze,



even tho' the golden rod may cause an occasional sneeze!







We soon forget Summer, with Autumn's promise it brings;



It promises winter, hints of Summer flowers and Spring.







The nut trees are full laden with their fruit, the brown quail utters her call.



The tree squirrel chases his mate, all of nature in unison proclaim,"it's fall."







Thanksgiving is nigh,



the Harvest moon is high.







The horn 'o' plenty is full of earth store,



The pure joy of living,



to celebrate a day of Thanksgiving.



Twould be selfish to ask anything more.



by



James Gargus, My Father

Thursday, September 15, 2016

God Save Me From Myself

Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.
Psalm 69:1

God,
Save me from myself. My life is filled with big mistakes and big regrets. I'm shaking inside like an Autumn leaf. So scared I'm about to fall.
My choices, my decisions, and my consequences. I seek the pathways of Earthly wisdom ahead of you. Seeking truth in all places but your Word.
A hypocrit I am. That is putting it mildly. That doesn't even scratch the surface of who I have become.

I become so angry and take delight in seeing someone who has hurt me fall. That one that fell is hurting. I just can't see it with my eyes.

Help me, I'm only human.

It's so hard to love those who hurt me.

Why is it when I try to help, I make things worse?

This cross is weighing on me. It's breaking me underneath its load. Lord, even You needed someone to help You carry yours. How much weaker than I, than you? I'm just flesh and blood. Frail in my nature and my being. You are divine and strong in Your nature.

You send minstering angels at times with encouraging words like you did for Your Son. Oh, God, help my unbelief. Help me in doubting their words. Strengthen my weak faith.

Strenthen me to endure all suffering and give me the ability to praise You in it. Your Son did your will, I know but He felt our pain. He begged to let this cup to pass if you would, but He would drink of it, if it was Your will. Sweet heaven, give me that willingness.

I don't know if I can face these hardships. They are of my own making. I have to make amends of where I failed.

Lord, lift this burden from my heart. My enemies take delight in my suffering. Don't make my heart be calloused to take delight in theirs. But let it break for them.

If all this must come to pass, God hold me and calm me as the storm and the winds howl. Give me peace in the midst and hold me close. Most of all, save me from myself.

In Your Son's name, who sacrificed all he had for someone such as me,

Amen.

Sunday, August 28, 2016

The Man Who Points The Finger

4 “Don’t point your finger at someone else and try to pass the blame! My complaint is with you.                                    
Hosea 4:4

The man who points the finger

must be considered dumb,

while he's pointing with his finger

its back-firing through his thumb.


Would you kick your fallen brother

while he is lying there?

judgement is passed upon you,

while your foot is in the air.


Dare we to judge another simply

by the color of their skin?

Dare we wage war of prejudice

in a battle which no one wins?


Was there ever a man so mentally and physically strong,

who will not forgive and forget a real or imagined wrong?

Who will not from this position move nor budge,

when no one shoulders or heart can endure a prolonged grudge?


I have met so many people,

but I have yet to see,

any of those people

that are better off than me.


Before you wrongly judge me,

that I'm enlarged with pride,

I'm happy to inform you

that I have Jesus on my side.


A cold cup of water,

a piece of cold bread

offered in Jesus blessed name,

is very little to give

but do this and live,

much better than in luxury, wealth, and fame.


As we go passing by with our head held high

Do we consider the beggar on the street?

Perhaps because of shabby, ragged clothes

walk on by looking down our nose,

never seeing the poor beggar has no feet.

by
James Gargus

Take that finger you point at others....and simply raise it up. Point to the sky. Point to the One who gives all us imperfect creatures Hope. Don't point at others to condemn...point to the only Hope we have. Point to Life...instead of Death. The life you might save...maybe your own.

"The fingers of your thoughts are molding your face ceaselessly."
Charles Reznikoff


Then shalt thou call, and the LORD shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am. If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking
Isaiah 58:9

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