Tag Archives: Christian poetry

Covering Grace

I stepped outside and took in the beauty of the many trees in our backyard covered in ice.

You could feel it really, God’s grace covering everything.

Icicles hanging from outstretched limbs, each seemed to testify of a grace that covers every cold and dead place, even those places in our heart.

Those outstretched limbs, with raindrops frozen in time,

When you looked at them you could feel it- the wonder of the outstretched arms of Jesus.

He hung on a tree.

His love poured out to cover me, to cover us.

What kind of love our God is?

He whispers in the cold through frozen raindrop,

“I see every tear.

Every one.

I cover you in those cold seasons.”

And I’ll just say it flat out- sometimes life is so cold and so hard you just want to be numb,

But looking up at the beauty in those trees,

You could just feel it- this isn’t about becoming numb.

It is about becoming beautifully still in the cold, awaiting new life.

His words, “My grace is sufficient,”

They are felt in the still, cold air.

You could absolutely feel it.

His covering grace.

Icicles hanging from outstretched limbs…

Testifying today that covering grace always comes back to a tree.

May you feel his grace covering you today.



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To What Would a Bird Say?

So I watched this bird this morning in the morning sun.

It stood there, so still, raising its head and chest, spreading and lifting its wings almost appearing as an act of worship truly.

And incredibly, tonight as I was preparing dinner, I saw it again, this time across the lake, raising its head and wings, still as ever, to the setting sun.

And I keep thinking about this bird.

About how from afar, based on what I could see, I would say that this bird finds its strength, its warmth, its rest in the sun.

After all, it is to the sun that it raises his head and wings both at the start and end of the day.

And perhaps an odd thought – but a thought nonetheless, I wonder tonight, to what would a bird say I worship based on what it sees?

To what do I raise my head and hands to at the start and end of a day?

To what do you?

A bit of a challenging thought, but one worth considering I think, especially in our high tech society.

What has our focus?

Where are we often found gazing and still?

What has our attention at the start and the end of the day?

Is it too much to say, that maybe, it also has our worship?

I can’t really say.

But a bird, not so little, has challenged me to ponder it tonight.


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To spell “Alleluia”


What if we couldn’t speak?
And what if we couldn’t write?
What then would the word “Alleluia” sound like?

How would it be spoken?
How would it be spelled?
Perhaps as simply as the holy act,
Of a flower being smelled.

Because it is in those moments,
When we stop and take life in,
That our hearts cry “Alleluia!”
To the One from Whom life begins.


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Joseph of Arimathea: A Holy Week Devotion

A rich man bought his burial place.

He had it set and ready for that fateful day knowing full well it would come.

Death comes to us all.

So he spent a small fortune for his resting place,

Only to find himself standing one day on a hill,

Face to face with a bloodied, crucified man.

Some claimed the hanging man was a fake, a hypocrite, the son of the devil, a blasphemer fully deserving of death.

Some claimed that hanging man was a prophet, a teacher, a good man, but surely not divine.

But the rich man…

The rich man begged for the crucified man’s body.

Pulled a bloodied, beaten, shredded, speared and lifeless body down from a cross.

Wrapped the man’s body in clean linen and placed him in his very own tomb.


Because that rich man beheld a body that should have been his.

And he pulled himself down from a cross.

He felt the wounds that the years of his own poor choices had made.

He wrapped himself up in a cloth, saw every wound covered and made white as snow.

He felt the love of God wrapping around him.

He felt the weight of his own body, dead in sin upon his shoulders.

He felt the love that faithfully carried him and continued to walk him on.

He reached his very own tomb and laid in it himself.

And all his riches were worthless, reduced to nothing in the presence of the body of the One worth everything.

No, Christ was not the only one crucified there.

He was.

And I was.

And so were you.

And Christ was not the only one resurrected there,

He was.

And I was.

And so were you.

Hidden in Him.

Made new in Him.

Our heart forever laid to rest.

The greatest treasure now obtained, eternal life through faith in Him.

(A reflection from our morning devotion time today. Scripture reference: Matthew 27:57-60)


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