Today is a hope-challenged day… so many memories. Five years ago I married Rich; two years ago he lay on his death bed. One person remembered our anniversary and brought their blessings to us, along with a gift I still have. As I looked at that gift this morning, I was reminded of so much, and wrote the following poem. Through it, I was reminded again of my precious hope through my Savior. As I wrote, my thoughts were drawn to Philippians 3:8–14. I’ve pasted in this passage at the end of the poem.
Made New
Like Israel
Choice lies before me
To mumble grumble each step forward
or remember God’s guidance
of each past step…
and God does not change.
Made in the image of God
do we change
or is it time and experience
bringing out who we really are
and how much we really allowed Him
to temper and mold us?
I’ve always believed the latter.
Maybe I’m wrong.
but in the end
its not God’s forgiveness I need
but mine (or so I think).
I am not as merciful as He.
I begin to understand monks and nuns
punishing themselves
because God
would
not.
And this worse sin
blocks out joy as
guilt and self-condemnation
feed a subtle lie
when will I learn…
None of my ways
are His.
Choose—to mourn and grieve
or be thankful.
Yes, I am thankful,
but I have not learned
to cherish the loss.
To let go of all that is past
and press on.
To accept:
I have not obtained
am not perfect.
To cherish:
the very thing that pains me most
is that from which I must turn
so I can strain forward
and obtain
what lies ahead—
glorious prize
of my Messiah.
At the finish line
in His arms
at last,
“Behold, I make all things new.”
Philippians 3:8-16 ESV
[8] Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ [9] and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—[10] that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, [11] that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
[12] Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. [13] Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, [14] I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
So heart felt, Deborah. Thank you for sharing your soul with us. Beautiful poem, beautifully written.
That’s beautiful. It’s hard to be thankful. But His healing makes all new. I like that thought.
I truly can relate. Thank you for sharing this blessed piece of your heart. May God’s peace displace the pain that refuses to budge from grief. May you cherish the experience of loss so that you may leap and dance forward into the future the Messiah offers. Will email you as well. Blessings, Cass
Sorry, I did not know the date of your anniversary. Is it today?