The Return of Hope

When it left I could not see, for I was blinded by pain

What remained was consumed by the desire for gain

Alone I sat among friends for many years thereafter

My heart felt hollow, and yet inexplicably hard 

I looked on life with frustration and bitterness

The only sign of life I still felt inside was sadness

I faltered on paths that once seemed firm and sure

I might contend the paths were sure, yet surely I was not

What had anyone done to me? Little that I could see

In truth, my selfish desires were my own worst enemy

Pride of intellect and hidden lust mixed with laziness

A poisonous mix, leading to an empty, self-righteous image

A mix blinding present and future while tainting the past

This wilderness felt indomitable and exceedingly vast

Early attempts to share hardly scratched the surface

I misunderstood the power of trust; all I felt was despair

Nights uncounted, I asked myself if any hope remained

Even prayer seemed little help, for my heart was still chained

Again, I wondered if any embers stayed alive in the ashes

Could the flame of hope ever be reawoken in my life?

When it came I could not see, for I was blinded by pain

My heart still wrestled with the old desire for gain

Yet somewhere along the way, light had pierced the dark

Slowly, the darkness and blindness began to give way

Long maligned, trust--yes, trust--began to grow anew

This trust came slowly, yet inexorably it still grew

Old pride, impatience, and laziness could not withstand

Every step towards trust revived the lost embers of hope

This slow reforging of trust was no design of mine

Trust and its companion of hope were divine in design

Make no mistake, trust strikes like steel to make a spark

But hope rekindled is a flame sprung to life for all to see

Hope is a light which darkness cannot comprehend

Even if hope seems to fade or die, do not believe its the end

For those who trust in the Lord will renew their strength

In due time, He will restore your hope and revive your heart

These Old Boots

They were battered and worn, these old boots. Bought fresh out of college by a young man whose friends often considered him a cowboy, these boots immediately became his footwear of choice for every occasion: hiking to riding to dancing; even symphonies and weddings. 

Not exotic in style or material, just a simple brown leather with traditional cowboy heel, but sturdy and well-made, these old boots. Miles and miles of daily wear over nearly 12 years, through snow and ice, mud and dust, on the streets and hitting the dance floors. 

The squared toes were bruised, muddied, scuffed and scarred many times along the way on these old boots. Over the years various parts of the boots worn down; the young man replaced the heels at least 3 times, and bought new insoles probably 4 times or more to keep them wearable.

Somewhere along the way, the young man had learned to maintain his boots by rubbing them down with oil after cleaning them of mud or debris. The oil prolonged the life and integrity of the leather, and over the years, he lost count how many times he cleaned and oiled these old boots. 

He cared for them diligently, regularly rubbing them down to minimize scuffs, scratches, and other signs of wear, restoring the leather’s appearance. It kept the leather soft and inside dry, and overtime the outside became more resistant to water, snow, and mud on these old boots.

Still going steady after 12 years, the entire bottom sole plus the heel had just been replaced, and one day while rubbing down the leather, the young man noticed something for the first time: more than just preserving the leather’s life, the oil had given new character to these old boots. 

The old textures were smoother, even while scuffs and scratches created new textures after the scars were rubbed out. The brown acquired a deeper, richer color and the leather developed an elegant sheen. The leather was original, but no longer the same on these old boots. 

It was then the young man appreciated the similarity between the care his Heavenly Father gives to His children and the care given to these old boots. Throughout the years, the Father had done the same for the young man on the inside, often without the young man noticing. 

The Father purified the young man’s heart with the blood of His Son, and set to work on sanctifying his soul through the Spirit. The gracious and merciful work of the Spirit continually preserved the young man’s life and mind through danger, loneliness, and despair.

But again, like the oil, the work of the Spirit transcends preservation; continually rubbing out the scars, scuffs, and scratches of sin, new character emerged. Old regrets, pain, anger, doubts, indifference, and pride were displaced by a deeper, richer faith, full of joy and delight in the Lord. 

If you do not know Jesus Christ, then I hope this will encourage you to learn more about Him and get to know Him. If you already know and believe in Jesus, then I hope this heartens you and lends new perspective to your walk, just like what happened to me while oiling these old boots.

75th Anniversary Salute to Pearl Harbor

Seventy-five years ago today, a battle line rode at anchor along the quay

From the sky one clear Sunday morning, came an attack without warning

Smoke and flames filled the air, as catastrophe struck all caught unaware

An infamous day ended in tragedy, four years later redeemed in victory

Stained by the Blood

I recently revisited an old thought on the effects of the blood of Christ and His sacrifice...I once compared the work of the Spirit to that of a wood stain or varnish on a piece of furniture, how we may be different shades or serve the Lord in different ways, but we all bear the same "stain" of Christ's blood and the "seal" of the Holy Spirit .

In talking with one of my roommates the other day, I noted how a piece of lumber, no matter if it has all smooth grain or if it has knots or scuffs in the wood, the stain covers them all and gives them a beauty they would not really have otherwise.

The more I thought about these things, the more I considered that, in truth, probably the most beautiful areas on stained wooden furniture is where the knots or little deviations in the wood occur. A smooth grain is attractive, but it does not grab the attention or the eye as much as the knots, scars, and other imperfections in the wood's surface. So to, the greatest work wrought by the "stain" of Christ's blood is often the knots, scuffs, and imperfections in our own lives. He alone can take those things that should be found repulsive or the things that gnaw at our souls and transform them into a testimony of His greatness.

What has He transformed in you? How has the stain of His blood impacted your life?