As Foreigners Here

 Looking for a country of my own,

Looking for a place I can finally call home.

A place I can call home finally,

A place where I'll belong, a place where we'll be free,

But it's not here,

And it's never now,

Until the river is crossed,

Until the son comes down,

As foreigners here,

In this strange, strange land,

Live in reverent fear,

As only an alien can,

Looking for a city that will last,

Looking for a city that will forget about my past,

Forget about my transient reputation,

Whose maker is the maker and is made on his foundations,

But it's not here,

And I'll show you how to hold on for now,

Until the river's crossed,

Or the Son comes down,

As foreigners here,

In this promised land,

Live in reverent fear,

As only an alien can,

For it was not with perishable things,

Gold or silver or trinkets or rings,

But with the precious blood of Christ you were redeemed,

A lamb without defect, spotless pure and clean,

As aliens here,

In this alien land,

Live in reverent fear,

As only an alien can,

Looking for a city that's above, 

A city that will stand when push succumbs to shove,

Looking for the heavenly Jerusalem,

The city of The Living God, where our names are written in Heaven,

But it's some how now,

And somehow not yet,

But my eyes are on Christ,

And I'll get there I bet,

" By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. 9 By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. 10 For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. 11 And by faith even Sarah, who was past childbearing age, was enabled to bear children because she[b] considered him faithful who had made the promise. 12 And so from this one man, and he as good as dead, came descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sand on the seashore.

13 All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. 14 People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. 15 If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. 16 Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them."

Someone

 When you're grateful in life, but don't know to who,

When you're angry with your lot, but have no one to blame,

When you feel you deserve more, but there is no one to reward you,

When you feel you're being punished, 

When you can't believe you got away with it,

When you call out for help and bargain with a God who isn't there,

When you blaspheme a name, like you just don't care,

Tell me why is that name on your lips?

Tell me who is it that see's all your slips?

When you're logic is that he is not there,

And that you hate him,

And that if he exists then he doesn't care,

Tell me from where did that sense of entitlement come?

And is this injustice that has been done? 

Did he not give you every breath,

Did he not, at your birth deliver you over from death?

Did the sun not shine every day, whether you saw it, or it was hidden away?

And shall we accept only good from his hand?

Blame him for the bad, with no thought for his plan?

Without honoring every wealth, 

Without praising for a single ounce of your health,

That has never been guaranteed to you,

Yet you take it for granted in all that you do,

And where is that someone hate,

And hold in contempt,

And judge and complain and continually berate,

Like your ways are better than his,

Like your thoughts are higher,

That if you were in charge you'd do better than this?

And where is your fear of him,

And where is your reverence

How big is your chin?

That you stand there and pout,

And huff and puff,

And scream and shout?

As if your love were superior,

As if your patience were not far, far inferior,

And this someone 

stepped down out of heaven,

Became one of us,

He has a face,

And a name,

Jesus,

Zoom-room Communion

Pizza crust,

The body broke for us,

No wine is mine,

But coffee dust,

Made this cup

From which I sup,

No hands held but the mute is on,

In silence we all sing the song,

The modern Covid lock-down twist

The zoomunion of the Eucharist,

But really I'm ok With this,

Still one,

And our Christ Jesus died for this.

Hold hands across the great abys,

Internet intent,

One in Spirit's what he meant

Demonology

 You call Satan a saviour,

Champion of your behaviour,

Not a sneaker but far sneakier,

Utilising antisocial media,

You intensify pretense,

But it's all at your expense,

Demonising saints,

But we don't raise complaint,

Remembering John 10:10,

We hit our knees again,

Jesus told us love our enemies,

We're offering up our prayers for these,

Who persecute and demonise,

For convicted hearts and opened eyes,

That let the light and Jesus in,

Forgive you for your every sin,

You think we're judging what you do,

But you see we're the same as you,

Lost in sin until we're found,

Not knowing which way's up or down,

That's why this inverted demonology,

Must succumb to true theology,

The things you think will set you free,

Are binding you in slavery,

On your shoes pathetically,

A bible verse for all to see,

Quoting from Luke 10;18

With no understanding of what it means,

But I guess that's in sin's nature,

So I'll let this trainer train ya,

Train ya in what it  really means,

Means Satan's head's my trampoline

Jesus gave me authority,

Over the power of the enemy,

Trampling on the vipers head,

Standing on the words Christ said,

Rejoicing not that the demons submit to you,

But that your name's written in heaven too,

Sneaky Serpent got kicked to the street,

Satan, You're under our feet.

 

The Complacency Of Sight

I was storing old images,

Collections in albums,

Saints who'd gone on,

Times long gone,

Curled at the corners, 

Trapping them beneath cellophane

In polythene prisons,

Little prisms,

Stuffed into cloud and

Driven onto hard drive

In an effort to survive,

I didn't want to take my memory of these images for granted,
To avoid complacency,

Moments come and are gone, you see,

And I didn't want to be without these sights,

When all the time I was taking sight itself for granted,

And should not have taken the moment for granted

The Exchange

I knew this girl once

She lost her soul

But gained the whole world

And she surveys it all some nights,

From her prestigious tower block apartment

Skyscrape

Vista’s of the landscape

One of the richest cities in the world

And she feels a sense in which she owns it all

That she’s the girl

But like litter around the landmark

The wind whistles through it

And she presses her face to the cold of the glass

And she’s still so lonely

And this world will pass

In Every Place

In every place 

He is

He took me to a high place,

And showed me,

Over the contours of my kingdom,

My corner of the county,

The small stretch of a score of miles,

In which I live out the majority of my life,

In the basin,

And over the valley,

Where the wind whistles,

On the peaks,

And above,

Amidst clouds,

In clear skies,

Behind the wing,

Above the bird's back

All about it

And far, far off,

And every space in-between,

The camera is rolling,

And always was,

Our lives go on beneath him,

Within him,

And he within,

Cars and busses, busy on their way,

As they pass through he is with them,

And he remains with them,

Until they reach their destination,

Even if it is The other side of the country,

And yet he never leaves this place,

The camera is still rolling here,

And when tomorrow morning,

I rise early with the thought of this poem,

He is still here,

In the darkness,

As the larks wake,

And there he is too with the poet,

In his head,

And surrounding his half clad body,

And in the space between his fingers,

And the keys,

As they repeatedly drum on the squares,

That send the signals, 

That tell his computer to display the letters they encase,

Upon his screen,

The ones you are reading right now,

And not only is he there between the poets fingers and letters,

But he is with you,

And he is still here,

Hovering over the valley,

Filling the space 

Between hills and blood cells alike

And in every lonely place

In every corner and nook,

On mountain tops,

In desert,

Across vast tundra,

Over waters,

Beneath the ice,

In every space an eye could see,

And in the eye itself

The camera never stops rolling,

He is

Existing

Wild and free

And we

Have only just arrived

In his eternity