Recipe to a Sure Thing Election – A Community Poem Prompt

Welcome to our Thanksgiving play place! We are taking on a challenge as a community to write poetry together. Each day I will provide a picture and a line of poetry. Your job is to leave a line of your own in the comment section. I will provide a new prompt and picture and a poem created by all of us the following day! Will you take time for a little wordplay? Today’s prompt is a little longer than usual…Have fun!

'Election Day Headlines' photo (c) 2006, Michael Styne - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

5 But also for this very reason, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, 6 to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, 7 to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love. 8 For if these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 For he who lacks these things is shortsighted, even to blindness, and has forgotten that he was cleansed from his old sins.

10 Therefore, brethren, be even more diligent to make your call and election sure, for if you do these things you will never stumble; 11 for so an entrance will be supplied to you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

II Peter 1:5-11

Sure Thing Election: Poetry Prompt

faith +
virtue +
knowledge +
self-control +
perseverance +
godliness +
brotherly kindness +
love =

full of new life

fruitful

abundant

overflowing

wise

God-knowing

chosen

well-loved by God…

Now for our latest creation…

'House of the lord' photo (c) 2005, glasgow's finest - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

I Am God’s House

by the Journey Towards Epiphany Community

I am stone, durable
I am steel, soaring
I am wood, warm,
I am God’s house,
Built by His hands.

I am a God container
Full of self
or full of Him.

“If thou couldst empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,”

Then I would be a container
full of Him
and you would see Him
best through cracks,
and flaws,
because He is light
and His light would show through,
and when we are weak we are strong.

I am God’s house
holy Spirit temple;
an earth suit of flesh
that fails too often
yet desires holiness.
Temple made with love mortar,
redeemed bricks,
cracked pots.
Yet I am holy as He is holy
and I am loved.

Father, help me keep this container clean,
this place where your glory dwells.

Let this earthen vessel
overflow with Your oil and wine
spilling out,
splashing empty containers
closest to me.

Remind me always

that I carry You with me

Everywhere I go.

I am Your house,

make me a habitable dwelling.

Sharing with my sisters at Soli Deo Gloria:

I Am God’s House – A Thanksgiving Community Poem

Before you read today’s poem, can I encourage you to come and visit me at a friend’s house? I am excited to announce that I have recorded me very first vlog! Yes, you can actually see me and hear my voice..okay now I’m nervous…I’ll be there later today at Amy L. Sullivan’s place doing the impossible…explaining my favorite non-profit organization in 60 seconds…

Welcome to our Thanksgiving play place! We are taking on a challenge as a community to write poetry together. Each day I will provide a picture and a line of poetry. Your job is to leave a line of your own in the comment section. I will provide a new prompt and picture and a poem created by all of us the following day! Will you take time for a little wordplay?

'House of the lord' photo (c) 2005, glasgow's finest - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

We are
God containers
Full of self
or full of Him

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Death By Beauty

by Journey Toward Epiphany Community


Golden jewels in cornflower blue sky;
a parasol of leaves,
filtering light overhead
and I wonder, will I sparkle with one last burst of beauty before I die?

Or will I fade slowly,
losing lustre one molecule
after another,
finally fading to nothing;
and all that remains
is cornflower blue sky.

Morning sky bluer than grandson’s eyes
Waning moon still high in west
His Word assures Springtime and harvest
As He sows, so He reaps.
We are born, live, and die.
Yet we are not annual;
We shall live forever,
perrenial,
Not just for a single season,
When we live in His love.
the grass withers
but His promises shine bright,
they never wanes.

He rides high on wings of wind
and tiptoes across the clouds
how could I not love Him so?

Sharing moments of gratitude with Ann:

296. I made it through a difficult week.
297. I have had the pleasure of editing community poetry.
298. My son treated me to a salted caramel mocha…yum…
299. My fabulous volunteers at Love INC.
300. I got to celebrate an upcoming marriage at a wedding shower.
301. Learning to trust…
302. Finished my first vlog and was featured over at Amy’s!!

Meeting with Michelle:

Learning from Laura:

Death By Beauty – A Thanksgiving Community Poem

Welcome to our Thanksgiving play place! We are taking on a challenge as a community to write poetry together. Each day I will provide a picture and a line of poetry. Your job is to leave a line of your own in the comment section. I will provide a new prompt and picture and a poem created by all of us the following day! Will you take time for a little wordplay?  (P.S. tomorrow I will be over at Amy’s place talking about my favorite charity…can you guess which one it will be?)

Golden jewels in cornflower blue sky;

a parasol of leaves,

filtering light overhead

and I wonder, will I sparkle with one last burst of beauty before I die?

 

 

Rest For the Weary

by Journey Towards Epiphany Community

'autumn leaf' photo (c) 2004, tracy ducasse - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

I let go of summer’s bounty to join the fallen,

the broken fragments blown together

by the exhale of cares,

fettered by fools for the feat of forgiveness.

Leather worn leaf settles to rest for winter’s sleep

…and so do I.

Old man winter makes fragile remnant shiver

falling, twirling, spiraling down to rest among

piles of others.

Sifting with a sigh into the earth,
I leave behind the exuberance
of seasons past,
choosing the soothing quiet
of snowdrifts.

Leathered hopes sigh in the letting go

rest under the cover of grace

wait for the spring of new life.

The days shorten,

the leaves fall,
Life closes in as the cold air comes.

But this is not an end,

just a pause.

All waits, beneath snow of purest white

For that one December day,

When life and His love are reaffirmed.

Then all gather strength,

As the days grow long and warm,

And life bursts forth, everywhere,

Stronger for the rest, and for

His love.

Even though I often long for the days to match my mood or schedule,

to know that in charge I am not;

this is far more of a blessing than any kind of weather,

no matter what this world holds

I am held by the Creator.

Leaves, like hands wave

to their Maker

and in a final hurrah

they shine brilliant

against October sky.

November comes

and life is over

floating down from pinnacle of praise.

There is beauty in life

God-lived,

I have arrived.

Like weathered leaf

At last I achieved

the deep creases of life experienced.

Some joy, some angry,

but most are deep,

full lines of joy and laughter.

An Element of Praise

I am earth,
grounded and broken
ready for tilling
waiting with expectation
for growth.

I am water,
sometimes wild
other times calm
bursting with life
deep down,
if you really want to see.

I am wind,
free as a breeze
place of origin unknown
place of destination uninhibited.
Always moving.

I am fire,
burning hot for You
flames extinguishing remnant of me,
leaping, and licking earth
with wild tongues of Your glory.

Which of the elements are you?

Giving thanks with Ann:

#285 – An excellent temporary refrigerator
#286 – A husband who solves problems
#287 – Letters promising an inheritance
#288 – The greatest love letter promising an even better inheritance
#289 – Living near the most beautiful city in the world
#290 – Meeting a friend at “The Bean”
#291 – Getting TONS of writing done for the conference
#292 – A gift from my generous benefactor
#293 – My dog feels better!! 🙂

On In Around button

…sharing a playdate with Laura:

New Community: Take Off Your Shoes, You’re On Holy Ground

Lord, I know that you are in the sacred,

and that the sacred is everywhere you are.

But there are places…

places I feel as though I must remove my shoes for Your Presence.

Places where I can not stand for Your Power.

It happens in the most ordinary of spaces:

Daddy’s house in the late afternoon

where light and shadow meet,

historical markers where destiny was decided,

the apartment where my son was born,

the stable where Yours was.

And wherever I go, there You are

making the place holy.

It’s enough to make me run barefoot;

barefoot and pregnant, that is.

Barefoot for the holiness that is You

and pregnant with gratitude.

God Himself is called Place, for He encompasses all things, but is not encompassed by anything.
~Philo of Alexandria

Won’t you join me on Fridays for a new series and linkup called, “Take Off Your Shoes, You’re On Holy Ground!”? Each week a post will be shared about the significance of a place and you will be able to share as well!! Just 1) Write a post about how a place has ministered to you. 2) Add your post to the linkup. 3) Add the button to your post. 4)Visit and encourage your neighbors!

 

 

JourneyTowardsEpiphany

<a href="http://journeytoepiphany.com&#034; target="_blank"><img src="https://journeytoepiphany.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/holy-ground1.jpg&#034; alt="JourneyTowardsEpiphany" width="125" height="125" /></a>

Poured out. empty.

Poured out.
empty.
my words are spilled out on page
or screen.
whichever two dimensional tablet I choose.

Poured out.
empty.
His insides are spilled out on ground
or me.
whichever lifeless surface I choose.

How do I make my words count?
They are only sounds spelled out
by letters.
I throw them into the air
speak life to them with hot breath.

How do I make His death count?
Blood has fallen on dead flesh
and bones.
He’s splattered it everywhere
and sighed last with death rattle.

My words
in me.
His Life
for me.
and I pour out my words infused with His life.
It was His life for mine.
His Words for mine.

An excellent exchange.
for me,
dontcha think?
What about for Him?
Was the trade good for Him?
aside from obedience?

Make my life count, Jesus
Who lives forever.
Make my words count, Lord
Word-giver.

photo courtesy of Dustin Blay

Counting with dear Ann:
232. Easter brunch with my Bible Study girls!!

233. Gifts from neighbors…

234. Coloring Eggs with little ones…

235. A surprise in the parking lot, a sponge painted sky…

236. An out of time moment…

237. A day to write to my heart’s content.

238. Beauty in chaos.

239. Standing at the door of my weekly place of grace.

240. Bluebell, cockel shells, Evy, Ivy over!

241. The path to Narnia…

242. A makeshift clothesline.

243. The yeasty smell of bread raising…

244. My children inviting people to Easter brunch…:)

245. Getting to see the batmobile in action!

246. Leftover muffins to give to neighbors as Easter treat!

…sharing a playdate with Laura:

…hanging out with L.L.: On In Around button

 

shared over at D’Verse Poets

Transfiguration

Suddenly they saw him the way he was,

the way he really was all the time,

although they had seen it before,

the glory which blinds the everyday eye

and so becomes invisible.  This is how

he was, radiant, brilliant, carrying joy

like a flaming sun in his hands.

This is the way he was–is–from the beginning,

and we cannot bear it.  So he manned himself,

came manifest to us; and there on the mountain

they saw him, really saw him, saw his light.

We all know that if we really see him we die.

Then, perhaps, we will see each other, too. – Madeleine L’Engle