The Reaching Tide

My sand I used to build upon, is now slowing melting down. Back into the sea it’s from, as the waves reach higher ground.

I call for help as I panic, grasping at melting sand, the one who controls the waves is near but where is His mighty hand?

Does He watch as I cry out for help? He has power over the sea, yet still the waves come reaching up, they soon even grasp at me.

The more I try to salvage, the stronger the tide starts to rise. Now my castle is one with the sea, which stretches far beyond the horizon.

I turn to the one who gave me the sand and ask why He stood still, as all I had done melted away by the tide rising up to steal.

But he never promised to stop the waves, He never said the tide wouldn’t take. He never said I would lose all I made or that the sand wouldn’t melt away.

Life changes more often than not, nothing is here to stay. The tide rises up eager for more then quickly slinks back away.

I can expect, look forward to even, the tide rising and falling. For it’s not the castles that God will protect but the hands that struggled to build them.

The sand is so weak, finicky at best. It gets washed away by even the mention of change. But it’s my God who stands against the waves, He’s the rock on the shore seas beat upon day after day.

But steadfast and sure when the tide rises up, I can climb on the rock where the tide reaches not. Though my castles will melt and wash away to unknowns. My rock is unchanging, the everlasting stone.

The tide can grasp and reach it’s highest, it may splash me with fear and doubt, but I look down at where my feet lay and know I have nothing to worry about.


What If Creation

​What if the stone that was forged into nails, screeched out in pain, as it peirced the Lord.

What if the rain as it fell from the sky, tried to wash away the blood and the tears that he cried.

What if his blood that soaked into the tree, tried to flow back to give life to our King 

What if the clouds that gathered above, tried to cover the shame our saviour took out of love. 

What if the ground began to shake and to split, trying to swallow the ones who in the Lord’s face they spit.

What if the thunder had cried out in anger, as all of humanity crucified the savior. 

What if all of creation hasn’t forgotten, the price that was paid, the life of the begotten. 

And now every tree, every cloud in the sky, each stone that we step on each breeze that flows by. Exists to give glory to the king of the kings. It cries out to us, He wants you to be free!

Look what he’s done, see how he’s shown, the love he has for you, just watch and you’ll know.  That each flower will live and just as quickly it dies. But each day that it bloomed “glory to him” it cried. 

What You’re Worth To Me

Lord I try to write
And make the perfect rhymes.
I think of what life is
And all I do is come up empty handed.
Im tired of writing empty words
I’m tired of wanting my own thoughts to
Be whats heard

Because what are they worth? A penny at best.
What are my words worth on the bestselling list?
A hint of fortune, a flicker of fame.
What else can I write
Its all been written
What else can I say?
It will just be forgotten.

Sometimes I feel like you put something on my heart
Then ill put it to ink,
But it doesn’t leave a mark.

I have waited years
To hear from your voice
I have hungerd for words
But then hunger became a curse
When my words became more
Than you who spoke
When did i begin to think
That it was me who wrote?

The things that are beautiful,  that pierces one’s heart.
Every line written, every work of art.
Each flower that bloomed from Creation till now, every creature that breathes, from the birds to the cows.
It all points to you.  It all gives You praise
What gives me right to think I shouldn’t do the same?
My words are meaningless. They’ll burn up like grass.
Each letter is a memory. Soon it will all pass.
My thoughts will become nothing, Articfacts of old. My tales of splendor now, will never be retold.
The only thing thats left, This one thing remains. The only thing worth saving, (if we are capable to save).
The only thing that stands in my ever moving mind, is the words you have spoken Lord, they have stood through time.
My life is nothing special,  but special you are to me.
I hope my simple words praise you. I hope they show you as my King.
I hope they give a glimpse, of what I have down inside.
I hope they show my struggle, how sometimes I want to hide.
I want them to be convicting, mainly to my heart. I want you to speak between the lines. I want you to place each mark.
In the end I know, this one thing I have seen,
All that my life is worth, is only what you’re worth to me.