Benefits of Being Poor

 

Being poor is inconvenient. It limits our choices. It makes it harder to navigate our worlds. Having riches would add a lot of benefits to life. But Jesus said “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:4). Since I have enough resources to get along pretty well in life, I find comfort that Jesus emphasized being “poor in spirit”. Even though I am not a pauper I can still be blessed and have a place in God’s kingdom. But Luke’s version of this teaching says “Blessed are you who are poor” (Luke 6:20). Indicating that physical poverty precipitates the benefits of the kingdom.

If we are poor in terms of physical assets it might make us mean in spirit and drive us from God. Jesus is saying that being poor should humble us and cause us to recognize our need for God and drive us to trust God.  If we possess the riches of this world, we have to find ways to divorce ourselves of the power of riches and recognize our need for God. To be poor in spirit means that in spite of whatever riches we possess we humble ourselves ultimately trusting God for every sustenance in life.  When we cast our cares on God in this fashion, we access the power and benefits of heaven.

Wealth and talent and pride have the power to rob us of humility. They can rob us of eyes that recognize God. They can cause us to have faith in things that diminish and neglect to trust in the eternal powers of God.  

The pains of life are sufficient to make our spirits poor. But we need to embrace that impoverished spirit with enough desperation to put our trust in God. We may lose everything this world has to offer. Our hands may become empty. Our accounts may be dry. But if our fingers cling to Jesus the kingdom of heaven belongs to us.  

Christmas in COVID Times

 

Midst efforts to resolve a viral pandemic

Causing global illness and death epidemic

As we process the merits of our heartfelt fears

Mixed with worry, doubt, dread, anger, and sometimes tears

Let’s not forget about the virgin who conceived

A child sent from God, so our sins could be relieved.

 

As we shelter in our places of seclusion

Where once welcomed visits are now an intrusion

As we inhale and exhale covered by our mask

While simple routines are now a cumbersome task

Let’s recall that to the virgin a child was born

Who would bring hope, joy, and peace to a world forlorn

 

When six feet apart striving for social distance

Has become the new normal of our existence

When our multiple efforts of sanitation

Instigates within us constant aggravation

Visit the manger, see Joseph and his betrothed

Gaze upon the child who in swaddling rags was clothed

 

When the news of more COVID cases scours the land

When the ones who govern hand down a new demand

When after each encounter we wash our hands clean

As we hope and pray each day for a new vaccine

Listen to the voices of the angelic throng

Announcing the Messiah’s presence in their song

 

As new stipulations create family strain

And events occur causing economic pain

When we come in close contact with those infected

Then obey rules of quarantine as directed

Let’s treasure the glorious news of a savior

Who came to remedy our sinful behavior

 

When we grieve a cherished friend or loved one who dies

And we can’t properly gather to say goodbyes

When we want to weep and give each other a hug

But we are restricted to a stare and a shrug

Let’s join the angels in praising the Prince of Peace

For in His grace and mercy we will find release

 

When each retail store bears the sign “masks are required”

And every adventure makes us tense and tired

When we learn that someone had a positive test

And we retreat to our homes for much needed rest

Let’s treasure Jesus, ponder His truth in our heart

With fresh faith in Him tomorrow a new day start

 

Midst our expressed concerns about the world’s future

Worrying that the wounds are too deep to suture

When mental anguish and fear are out of control

When encouraging words lack power to console

Recall that our purpose is to give Christ glory

And our mission is to propagate His story

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tatooed on the Palms of God's Hands

On September 12 of this year we lost a giant among Illinois Baptist. Bill Weedman was a faithful servant of our Lord, first as a pastor and then for 25 years on the IBSA staff. He was a humble man, beautifully educated with a PHD from Southern Seminary, yet people rarely addressed him as Doctor. He was quiet and unassuming in so many ways, never drawing attention or recognition to himself. On the other hand all eyes were upon him because you knew he was someone who would be true to His word and what he knew to be truth. If you needed a job done correctly you called upon Bill. He was a wealth of information. If you asked him a question you better be ready for the long answer. He would start exhaling information and about the time you thought he was through he would inhale a breath of air and start exhaling more facts and figures and stories. And he could preach! His sermons were scholarly and at the same time pastoral, his delivery clear and without a note. Bill pretty much worked until failing health got the upper hand. For the last 6-8 years his public presence faded until it was non-existent. When you are not seen your importance dwindles and slowly you are forgotten. If people’s memories of you dwindle you just slowly fade away.

 

His memorial service was not held at a church but a funeral chapel. From 1:00PM until 3:00PM is not prime time. I think it is correct to say that while Bill knew a lot of people he had close relationships with only a few.  When time and memories of a person have elapsed and what is left of the physical body is just a sack of cremains maybe it is hard to justify showing up at a memorial service. I am not sure how many people came to the chapel and signed the guest book and left but when the memorial service began 29 people were in attendance. Only 29 people, just two dozen and 5. I was not among the crowd. My wife was there and I am taking some solace that I at least paid my respects by proxy.

 

I find it a little sad. It is disheartening that after a life of ministering to people and assisting others in ministering to people that only a small crowd comes to acknowledge your importance. If we view this only from the eyes of this world it is a discouraging thing.

 

In Isaiah 49 we discover a word of hope for Israel. They were a land, a nation, a people, who surely were depressed. Their city was in ruins and governments who were not sympathetic to their history, values, and faith ruled over them with a contrary hand. But the prophet says they ought to take courage for God has seen their affliction and is responding in compassion for them. God is writing a new song that will break forth as such decibels that the mountains around them dance in singing.

But they have not experienced that yet.

 

Isaiah 49:14 “But Zion said. ‘The Lord has forsaken me; My Lord has forgotten me.’”

             

Here is God’s response.

 

Isa. 49:15-16 “Can a woman forget her nursing child, That she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.”

 

It is unfathomable that a mother would forget her nursing child. It is almost unheard of that a mother would forget the child she has borne. It could happen but God would never forget His people. This is a strong affirmation of God’s love and care for His people. God opens His hand and challenges them to look and see what is “engraved” on the palm of His hand. He has done this not with some kind of weak ink that can fade or be erased. But it is permanently carved into His metaphorical flesh. The object engraved on the palm of God’s hand is a drawing of the walls of Jerusalem. But which walls? Is it the broken down walls or the glorious walls of the future city? I say that it does not matter. The walls of Jerusalem is a reference to the people of God that had been and those that were yet to be engraved on the hands of God. It is a picture that tells us that God remembers us whether our walls are erect or whether they are crumbled on the ground.

 

How does this apply to you and me today? We are not Israel. We are not Jerusalem. We are not a nation enclosed with geographical boundaries. No! We are better than that! We have seen the Messiah. We have heard his teachings. We have seen Him crucified on a cross. We have acknowledged His resurrection. We have heard His gracious offer of forgiveness and salvation and by faith we have accepted that offer. We are a part of the church of the living Lord Jesus. We are the new Israel, we are the new Jerusalem. As such we are the recipients of all God’s promises and blessings and we are the ones responsible for propagating His mandates.

 

Thus this word of hope that Isaiah preached applies as much if not more to us than it did to those it was originally spoken to.

 

God has not forgotten us and He never will. He remembers us now here on this earth and He will remember us for all eternity. This promise is ours corporately as the church and as individuals.

 

Isaiah 49:16 is a beautiful picture of how God remembers and cares for His people.

 

The Amplified Bible, Classic Edition (AMPC) translates that verse like this “Behold, I have indelibly imprinted (tattooed a picture of) you on the palm of each of My hands; [O Zion] your walls are continually before me”.

 

What’s that?  Did it just say that God has a tattoo? Isn’t that something? God has a tattoo!

 

I dislike tattoos. I don’t understand why somebody would want one. The reason is that I have written so many dumb things in my life that I have learned that before I publish something to make sure it is something I don’t want to erase.

Recently a young woman told me she wanted to get a tattoo on her arm. My response was "please don't do that. Someone as beautiful as you does not want to mess up her beauty with a tattoo”.

 

But God has a tattoo. I suppose that if you are going to have a tattoo you ought to make sure it is of something significant. God’s judgment is great enough that He would not tattoo something onto His hand that was not significant.

 

His tattoo is a picture of His people. It is an image of His church corporately and it is a picture of you and me individually!  I ask the question: God why would you do that? God’s answer is “I love you so much, and I think you are so beautiful that I have tattooed a picture of you on the palms of both of my hands”.

 

Let me make three quick applications in regards to what this means for us.

It Speaks of  God’s Protection. 


He has engraved our image not on the back of His hand but on the Palms of His hands. In the palms of His hands he hides us and protects us. If the tattoo was on the back of His hand we would be subject to all the elements of the world. We would be exposed to gawking of all our enemies and all the enemies of God. In one sense we experience that anyway because we cannot be followers of God and live reclusively and still be effective. Yet we can rest assured that though the world around us may gawk at our faith and our values and even our existence we find security engraved on and enclosed in the palms of God. 


We are not forgotten. Jesus said “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand”. John 10:28 


 It Speaks of God’s Preservation 


Why do we protect something? We protect it so we can preserve it and thus be able to enjoy it. 


I have a picture of my wife Jeanette and me taken just after we were married. I used to carry it in my wallet but now I keep that picture in a drawer in my desk. Every now and then I get that picture out and look at it and I get a visual reminder of what she looked like then. I get the picture out and look at it so I can enjoy it.  


God tattoos an image of us on the palms of His hands so that we will be preserved for His eternal enjoyment. Now is part of eternity! We are going to be in heaven with the Lord forever but God enjoys even now and He carries around an image of us on the palms of His hands. He can open His hands and look at us anytime He wants to.  


It Speaks of God’s Presentation


There is going to be a day when we all stand before God. It is a day of judgment, a day of accountability. Frankly, I have a little fear of that day. But my fears are calmed because I know that standing beside me on that day will be my savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, the one who was and is the physical hands of God on this earth. 


I don’t know what that day will look like but with a little sanctified imagination I hear my name being called and I see Jesus opening his hands and presenting me, presenting you, presenting His church to the heavenly Father. Can you get that picture? There in the midst of the nail scarred hand is a tattoo of me and you and all the redeemed of all the ages. We are not forgotten but we are presented to God eternally secure.

A Tribute to Billy Graham and Thelma Perkins

Two of the greatest saints of God who ever lived died today and entered the glories of heaven.

One of those saints, Billy Graham, was well known. In his 99 years he had touched every corner of the earth. In one sense he was a simple Baptist preacher. In another sense he was a giant of a man. Billy Graham stated "My one purpose in life is to help people find a personal relationship with God, which, I believe, comes through knowing Christ". That being so he fulfilled that purpose well. He preached in 180 countries and in the process preached to an estimated 250 million people. I have known of Billy Graham all of my life. As a kid growing up we used to gather around the television and listen to him preach. Many years later I had the privilege of serving as a counselor in one of his crusades. I stood within 40 feet of him but never had the opportunity to meet him personally. I think there were smiles in heaven today when Billy Graham arrived. And I think there was a smile on his face when he stood before the throne and met the Lord Jesus.

The other great saint that passed from earth today and began her days of heavenly rejoicing was Thelma Perkins. She was not known by very many people outside of the locality of where she lived. But I knew her well. I first met Thelma Perkins when I was seven years old. Our family was new in town and we joined the Gano Avenue Baptist Church where Thelma and her family were members. She became a lifelong friend to all of us. But we found her worthy of so much respect that none of us, not even my mom and dad, would address her, by any other term except “Mrs. Perkins”. Mrs. Perkins spent her 94 years on this earth loving and serving the Lord through her church and loving and encouraging the people that God placed in her path. Mrs. Perkins was a homemaker caring for her husband and raising three children. She was a kind neighbor. She was a gracious host. You would always get a good meal at her house but more importantly you felt love and warmth and kindness in her home. She never said unkind words about others and her presence made you cautious about engaging in unworthy speech as well. She was one of those people that the love and grace and mercy and kindness of Jesus just oozed out of. Her kind of character and demeanor is rare in the world. Mrs. Perkins was an ardent student of the Bible and was a Sunday School teacher for over sixty-five years. She had a great interest in missions and though she never traveled that much she prayed for people all over the world. I know she prayed for me. Her life and example has been an encouragement to me and many others.

Billy Graham got to heaven early this morning. Mrs. Perkins got there about 10:20 AM eastern time.  I am not sure what the protocol of heaven is like. But somehow I think that with these two great saints arriving on the same day that protocol was broken. There must have been applause. Maybe the heavenly choir got a little extra excitement and danced while they sang. Surely somebody shouted. I was not there so I don’t know. But I think that when the Rev. Billy Graham and Mrs. Perkins stood before the throne today the face of the Lord Jesus was beaming when He said “Well done, my good and faithful servant”.

My Christmas Prayer for 2017

When the rhetoric is vile and spewing forth hate

Fill my heart with love, my mouth kind words to relate

 

When characters are threatened by accusations

Keep my tongue from promoting the declarations

 

When news blares of another sniper with a gun

May my sheath, sword, and shield be your majestic Son

 

When I encounter neighbors burdened and in need

Grant me the blessing to give, not withhold in greed

 

When humankind divides by status, creed, and race

Help me pursue common ground, guide me by your grace

 

When conflict and confusion never seem to cease

Make me wise so that I might facilitate peace

 

When a brother has no one on whom to depend

Cause me to be silent, listen, and be a friend

 

When loneliness and despair threaten to destroy

Bring me hope, that encouragement I might employ

 

When I see people broken by sins frustration

Give me boldness to share knowledge of salvation

 

When they grapple in darkness unguided by sight

Let my life and voice become a beacon of light

 

When people doubt Bible truth and implication

Allow me patience for a gospel conversation

 

When stilled in weariness from our earthly story

Deliver heavens hope from the Lord of glory.

 

It Won't Be Very Long

My Grandfather Morgan Williams was a hymn writer. He had some 46 songs published. The most popular one was entitled “It Won’t be Very Long”. It gained some notoriety in Stamps Baxter singing circles. It can be found in a few of the old hymnals one of them being “Heavenly Highway Hymns”.
But I know it because my mother sang it from memory all the time when I was growing up. She was quite proud of the hymn and of her Dad who wrote it.

 I am remembering it tonight as my mother’...s life appears to be slipping away in a nursing home in Blacksburg, Virginia. Alzheimer’s has depleted her to an earthly shell. But awaiting her is a house not made with hands eternal in the heavens.

I am singing my Grandfather’s old hymn tonight. And I think I am hoping that maybe there is a recording somewhere in a hidden corner of my mother’s mind that is playing this hymn and giving her comfort.


It won't be very long till this short life shall end,
It won't be very long till Jesus shall descend;
And then the dead in Christ from beds of clay shall rise
To meet the Lord and King up yonder in the skies.


It won't be very long till here we cease to roam,
It won't be very long till all the saints get home;
And then with smiling face we'll walk the streets of gold,
And sing the Savior's praise where saints are never old.


It won't be very long till bur-dens we lay down,
It won't be very long till we'll receive a crown;
And then we'll shout and sing with angels round the throne,
And when we meet up there, we'll know as we are known.

It won't be very long till earth shall pass away,
It won't be very long till works of men decay;
But Jesus has pre-pared a happy dwelling place,
For all who look above and trust His matchless grace.


It won't be very long,
It won't be very long
Till Jesus shall appear;
That day is drawing near;
Will you be ready then
To meet the ransomed throng?
Get ready for that day,
It won't be very long.

One Glad Morning

Two years ago today I received a phone call from my brother informing me that our Dad Larry Cloyd had died. I was not surprised. Dad had spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital over the previous years. He had numerous health problems. When I saw him two months earlier his breathing was labored and his mobility was limited. I had plans to see him again in another two weeks. But the Lord took him home before I got there. Dad lived in an assisted living facility and he liked it there. On the morning of Sept. 5, 2013 he got up and rode his scooter down to the dining hall. He enjoyed a good breakfast and joked around with a couple of his friends. He then rode his scooter to the elevator and went up to visit the nurses and get his medications. He joked around with them as he always did. He rode his scooter back to his room and within 5 minutes he had pressed his medical alert button. The nurses came quickly but he was gone. His soul had left his large, old, and tired body and flew off to glory. His favorite song was “I’ll Fly Away”. I can see him now standing around the piano taping his foot and singing with gusto “Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away; to a land on God’s celestial shore, I’ll fly away. I’ll fly away oh glory, I’ll fly away. When I die Hallelujah by and by, I’ll fly away”. On the glad morning of Sept. 5, 2013 that song became a reality for him.

I cannot imagine a better way to go. Dad enjoyed eating. And he enjoyed being around people. He left this earth with his belly full and his heart full. How you going to beat that? But I feel the void every day of not having him here. He was a good dad who fulfilled his responsibilities in life, took his faith seriously, and had great pride in his children. I love you Dad.

Let's Go to Bethlehem and See

Recently I traveled to Israel. I had the opportunity to visit Bethlehem. In preparing for this event and because of this event I wrote the following poem.

Let’s Go to Bethlehem and See

By Brent Cloyd, 2014

Come travel to the town of Bethlehem with me

Let’s observe the venue, reflect upon what we see

 I see a place where politics is harsh and shrewd

Where feeling forgotten, people have a vile mood

I see an Emperor who made a great decree

Go home take the census; you owe taxes to me

I see a young man, responsible, able, and proud

Who complied with the order, did not complain loud

I see significance in his ancestral line

The connection must be claimed, they could not decline

I see a young woman, greatly pregnant with child

Her time would come soon; the journey would not be mild

I see a man and woman, tested but in love

Confused, yet convinced of their mission from above

I see a crowded town without a lodging place

For poor strangers there was little mercy or grace

I see the pain of labor, loneliness, and stress

With groans, desire, and effort; a birth did progress

I see a happy face, immaculate with joy

Overflowing with love for a her baby boy

I see a stable, filled with the stench of manure

No place for a new born, vulnerable and pure

I see a child lying on a mattress of hay

Who humbly had arrived in the natural way

I see a baby wrapped securely in strips of cloth

One sent from heaven resting in a feeding trough
 
I see a proud mother gazing at her first born
Unaware that others will stare at him with scorn

I see a town that ignorantly missed the sign
Thus ignored the presence of this infant divine

I see shepherds on guard in the dark of the field
Keeping watch over their flocks with protecting shield

I see night interrupted by an angels face
As the glory of the Lord was shone in that place

I see heavenly beings with great news to proclaim
The joy of one who surpasses every name

I see a choir of angels as their voices ring
Glory to God in the highest heaven they sing

I see them praising God in sounds of sweet release
God sends His favor, in Messiah there is peace

I see shepherds, curious, gazing, with minds stunned
Leaving their flocks at night to see what had been done

I see action, let’s go to town right now and see
This savior the angels sang about with such glee
 
I see a young family, a man and his wife
Loving and guarding their child, in a world of strife

I see shepherds, with amazing joy in their eyes
Who left telling a story of this great surprise

I see a mother treasuring the day’s events
Pondering her involvement in God’s great intents

I see myself, a sinner, as part of the story
Praise Jesus my savior, to God be the glory.

 

 

 

Souvenir Christianity

Last Sunday I shared about our Lord’s Supper service in which we used olive wood cups to serve the juice. I relayed how that after a two and one-half hour time lapse between filling the cups and partaking of the Lord’s Supper that some of the cups had completely absorbed the juice and that the juice having taken on the taste of the olive wood tasted bitter. Each participant took the used cup home with them as a souvenir. When the cups dried however we noticed that the juice had left a crimson stain. No amount of rinsing could wash it away. I noted that these facts reminded me of how we are supposed to absorb Christ and how having absorbed him our lives are changed. If Christ does absorb us we will be stained and that stain is His identifying mark upon us. I noted that the bitter taste of the juice reminded me of the bitter cross Christ had to bear. As followers of Christ we also are sometimes called upon to be involved in bitter work. My friend Pat Pajak told me afterwards that I should have used white grape juice and waited to fill the cups about 30 minutes before the Lord’s Supper service. That way less juice would be absorbed by the cup, it would not take on as much taste from the wood, and the cup would not be stained. That sounds like good logistical thinking. It would be less messy and the people could go home with a less blemished souvenir.  

On the other hand maybe we have just identified a problem of the Christian faith. We engage in to much souvenir Christianity. We have no desire to absorb very much of Christ. We come to worship looking for a small and quick dose of Christ and if we discover we got a little to much we can rinse it off. It does not change us much. Therefore it does not prepare us to taste the bitter cup of suffering nor does it compel us to drink the often bitter cup of service. It is a stainless faith. I guess that kind of faith makes a good souvenir. But it does not identify us and it does not make much difference in the world.

A Memorable Lord's Supper

We celebrated the Lord’s Supper last Sunday morning. We served the juice in cups made of olive wood that had been made in Bethlehem. I had bought the cups on my recent trip to Israel with the intent that after using them each partaker could take the cup home with them as a souvenir. It was a different experience with observations worthy of notice. We had filled the cups before the Sunday School hour. By the time we served the cup at the end of the worship time two and one-half hours had lapsed. When I stepped down from the platform to serve the Lord’s Supper I noticed that the olive wood cups had absorbed some of the juice. In fact a few of the cups had completely absorbed all the juice that had been poured into them. It occurred to me that as God’s chosen vessels we are to absorb Christ becoming more and more like Him each day. When we drank from the cup it tasted bitter. The fruit of the vine had taken on the flavor of olive wood. It reminded me of the bitter cup Christ had to drink in bearing our sin on the cross. From a different angle I thought of how the presence of Christ changes the flavor of our lives and how His love and mercy and grace and peace can change the flavor of the world. I thought of how Christ drank a bitter cup in order that the world might taste a sweeter cup. The folks took the now empty and juice saturated cups home with them. I took mine as well and sat it on my desk to dry. When it had dried it was left with a reddish stain. The stain reminds me of Christ’s mark upon our lives. For when we truly absorb Christ we are not the same. We have been changed. We are different. His mark is upon us. That mark is left to remind us of who we are. It is left to cause those whom we encounter to inquire about who we are.

At Galilee

I walked one day where Jesus trod
In a village along the shore
I stood upon a sloping hill
Where he preached to five thousand or more

I ventured out onto the sea
Where Peter and John plied their trade
With mine own eyes I saw the place
Where Jesus taught and disciples made

I viewed the hills panoramic
Stoic, stately, still, and compact
From this backdrop He gave meaning
To faith, hope, and love so abstract

I recalled Peter and the others

When a fierce wind they had to face
Then came Jesus on the water
Reaching His hand of saving grace

I thought of how much in common,

Though it has been two thousand years
We have with those who lived in that day
How Jesus still can calm our fears

Jesus did not consider great
Those who held power in their hand
But had respect and compassion
For the weary who worked the land

I was there with many travelers

In their tears I discovered a clue
In each was a burdensome story
They had only told to a few
 

As I looked upon the marvel

I sensed a word to my hungry soul
Take my yoke upon your shoulders
Together we will reach the goal.

Somewhere Near Here

While traveling in Israel I wrote a poem and shared the poem with our group at our last devotional time in the Jerusalem.

In old Jerusalem near cross and sepulcher

Transgressors and confessors searching for a cure
Weary Pilgrims assembled in this place ornate
Guilty, broken, sad, sickened, from life’s heavy weight

Here we remember how our sin once did molest

How selfish deeds and hateful thoughts God does detest
Yet for us sinners Christ in love performed His grace
His sacrificial work makes this a holy place

Somewhere near here religion organized deceit

They drug him to the pavement to make his end complete
Somewhere near here truth was twisted, justice denied
Somewhere near here, misinformed, crucified they cried

Somewhere near here with cruel whip his back was beat

Somewhere near here Rome drove nails in Christ’ hands and feet
Somewhere near here the savior wore thorns for a crown
Somewhere near here the savior’s blood trickled down

Somewhere near here they punctured a sword in his side

Somewhere near here for our sin our blessed savior died
Somewhere near here, hanging shamefully on a cross
Jesus was sacrificed to restore human loss

Here listening to vile words the crowd did sputter

An announcement of forgiveness he did utter
Here on these grounds the lamb without blemish or flaw
Orchestrated the salvation the Father foresaw

The execution done His body was removed

The task was now completed, the Father approved
In a tomb near here his slaughtered corpse was encased
Still, dead, and buried, His accomplishments erased

For three days in the dark of the earth he did lay

While the Sabbath left His friends to mourn in dismay
But on the third day, somewhere near here, before dawn
There came a rumble and He awoke without yawn
 

Somewhere near here before the daylights detection

Breath was restored in mighty resurrection
The women and the disciples saw him near here
Then to more than five-hundred he dared to appear
 

I’m quite impressed with these walls and decorations

But they provoke neither joy nor celebration
For I’m on a journey to see the saviors face
And perhaps that’s the lesson of this wondrous place

For nails, nor cross, rocks, or cave can keep Jesus still

Resurrected our savior moves around at will
He will not be confined to places around here
But where ever we go our living Lord is near.

 

Prayers and Premontions

In the 2000 my mother, Lois W. Cloyd, wrote a poem entitled “A Prayer for the Millennium”. The poem was published in a collection of poems entitled American at the Millennium: The Best Poems and Poets of the 20^th Century. I had forgotten about the poem until I came across the book this evening. Given the events that have transpired since these words were penned the poem feels like more of an antithetical premonition than a prayer. It leaves an eerie feeling in my soul.

 

No more children with nowhere to sleep,
No more children with no one to weep
When they wander alone and cold on the street.
America at the Millennium.

No more children afraid to go to school
Because someone, somewhere, broke the rule
With guns, causing violence, innocent blood.
America at the Millennium.

No more churches with pious airs,

More and more churches with members who care
What happens to people in their everyday world.
America at the Millennium.

 More and more Christians showing God’s love

And telling the world that Jesus came from above
To forgive us our sins and fit us for Heaven.
America at the Millennium.

The Report From Bethlehem

For the past several years I have written a Christmas poem. Following is this year's poem.

Emperor Augustus made a decree

No option was given to disagree

Each person must travel to their own town

To take the census ordered by the crown

 

The census occurred to figure the tax

Emotions were tense, no one could relax

Though family matters called for delay

Joseph made the decision to obey

 

They made the journey, Mary great with child

Up to Bethlehem, now busy and riled

Unable to acquire a resting place

A stable was located by God’s grace

 

In this environment, rude, cold, and cruel

A baby was born, a heavenly jewel

In that lonely barn smelling of manure

They fashioned a bed for this child so pure

 

In the atmosphere of Caesar’s command

The crowds failed to notice what God had planned

To accomplish a mission of high degree

God sent His son as heaven’s deportee

 

But to the shepherds on the hillsides near

A throng of singing angels did appear

Their voices could not hold back the story,

Of His majesty, purpose, and glory

 

This child would address man’s misbehavior

Through sacrifice, forgive, be our savior

Deliver us from sinful sways and strays

Bring peace to all who would follow His ways

 

The shepherds hurried to town with great glee

One so marvelous they wanted to see

Seeing, they reported all that they knew

Jesus is His name, He came to save you.