The River of My Life (and Love)

I stood on the bank of the creek and looked back.

I saw a piece of driftwood coming – slowly and uncertain.

It passed a rose, reached out for it, and flowed toward me.

A daisy saw them and froze with fear and hurt.

For though she was plain, she wanted to be with the driftwood.


Suddenly the rose pushed herself away and drifted toward the bank.

The driftwood sail dejectedly near the daisy and she reached out and latched on to him.

The driftwood and the daisy travelled happily for a little way

Until some unknown force of the creek made him push the daisy away.

He drifted ashore – not wanting to return to the creek, but still longing to be with the rose – in spite of

                her painful thorns.

The daisy was caught in the middle of a whirlpool – not knowing what to do.

Her petals split and were carried away.


Then I turned away.

For the creek was too much like the river of my life.

The driftwood too much like my first love,

The rose like the old love that split us apart,

The daisy too much like me.

But before I had gone, my tears turned the creek into a river.

The stormy, uncertain river of my life – and love.


Good Friday Meditation

So much pain.

The pain of being betrayed.

The pain of being deserted.

The pain of being falsely accused. 

The pain of being scourged, mocked, beaten.

The pain of wearing a crown of thorns, knowing it should have been a crown of glory.

The pain of carrying a cross.  The pain of the nails pounded through hands and feet. 

The pain of the crucifixion.  

The pain of knowing many wouldn’t understand. 

The pain of knowing some would, yet still not believe.

The pain of knowing some would understand and believe, yet not be grateful enough to tell others.

So much pain.


So much love.

He loves betrayers, deserters, power hungry controllers and the cruel. 

He loves those who suffer, the slow of mind, the slow of heart and the slow of mouth.


So much pain.

The pain of other gods before Him.

The pain of seeing worship due Him given elsewhere.

The pain of hearing His name in curses and casualness.

The pain of unholy Sabbaths. 

The pain of the honorable unhonored.

The pain of murder, adultery, theft, lies and greed.


So much love.

No matter how many times we turn away, slight, ignore, insult, dishonor or profane,

He loves.

No matter three times or many times. He loves every time.

He loves the murderer, the adulterer, the thief and the liar.

He loves the greedy and the needy.

And He loves them all the same. 

Unconditionally, ruthlessly, jealously.


Only love can bear pain.

There has to be more love than pain.

The love has to be big enough to absorb the pain and continue as if it hadn’t been hurt.

We in our human minds are fond of expressing ratios. 

How can we express love:pain?



Hope – Joy – Peace – Love

Hope is.
Hope is knowing Jesus.
Hope is knowing He’s coming.
Hope is knowing He’s coming for us.
Joy is.
Joy is knowing Jesus.
Joy is knowing He’s coming.
Joy is knowing He’s coming for us.
Peace is.
Peace is knowing Jesus.
Peace is knowing He’s coming.
Peace is knowing He’s coming for us.
Love is.
Love is knowing Jesus.
Love is knowing He’s coming.
Love is knowing He’s coming for us.

Their Life Together

I know these two people – they’re very special to me.
So special that sometimes it hurts to think of them – and remember.
I don’t know the whole story – I’ve just gathered bits and pieces with my eyes, ears, and heart.
They haven’t told me much.
Maybe it’s too painful for them.
They’ll tell me when the time comes.
I supposed I could ask, but I’d rather let it be their decision, their time.
It’s not easy to put the bits and pieces together, but the missing pieces are full of love.
Someday when the real pieces fall into place, I know the love will be there to seal them.
I don’t know the whole story – just the bits and pieces I’ve gathered with my eyes, ears, and heart.

They were married.
They must have been very happy – in spite of interference and problems and rainy days.
But one day, their happiness disappeared and the pieces of their lives scattered in all directions.
He almost lost her.
He stayed by her – he must have been full of hope.
But he did lose a part of her.
For the voice he had grown to love would never return.
He stayed.
He could have given up but he didn’t.
He might have left her or sent her away, but he wouldn’t.
He stayed – not because he felt he had to – but because he wanted to.
Because he loved her.
He suffered with her – and for her.
And together they tried to pick up the pieces of their lives.
They truly became one person and spirit as they struggled.
Nothing mattered because they were together.

This may not really be the way they felt.
It may have been entirely different.
Perhaps I saw them this way because I wanted to.
Perhaps I saw what they wanted me to see.
I doubt it though.

In one sense I will never grow up – for I will always believe with the eternal faith of a little child that they love each other – and always will.
No matter what.

The Dream

The night fell soft and warm and beneath the brilliant glow of the moon we walked through the mist of the almost silent meadow.  Only the eyes of the night watched as we fell in love – and soared to the peaks of the mountains.  Together.

No words were spoken, for we were too awed by the beauty we saw and the tremendous feeling we had just discovered.  Together.

And as the breeze tried to mask the heat of the day, it gently rustled through our hair and briefly touched our souls.  We skipped through the trees and only the moonlight and the daisies and the brook were able to see.  To see the love and laughter and tears and music we shared.  Together.

As two people finally belonging to the life we were given, finally able to understand and give a piece of ourselves to each other.  We would make it now.  Together.

The black light cast eerie shadows about us and the people around us laughed and sang and talked quietly.  We were a part of them; we belonged.  But yet the two of us were different and separated from the rest.  And at the same time drawn closer to them.  Together.

The past and the future are forgotten, for we are too busy living and sharing each precious moment of the present.  Together.

At last.

At the Appointed Time

At the appointed time, Isaac was born to Abraham & Sarah (Genesis 21:2)

At the appointed time, I was born to my parents.

At the appointed times, I lived in the houses and neighborhoods I lived in.

At the appointed times, I worked for the companies I worked for.

At the appointed time, I was born again and baptized.

At the appointed times, I went to the churches I participated in.

At the appointed times, I was married and divorced.

At the appointed times, I learned what I learned about You, about me, about the people I love.

At the appointed time, I’ll be published.

At the appointed time, I will speak.

At the appointed time, I will love again.

At the appointed time, I will be loved.

Actually, it’s past the appointed time when I should love You wholeheartedly and let You love me.

Now is the appointed time.

Letters to a Friend

Dear Lord,
I feel so angry inside.
Like I’m going to explode into pieces that could hurt the people I care about.
Take off the pressure.

Oh Lord,
I’m so afraid inside.
Afraid to move or act or think or do anything, yet the world rushes by – without me!
Comfort me.

Dear Lord, excuse me Sir,
I feel so sad inside.
Like I’m going to melt away and drown in my tears.
Will You ease the pain? Please?
I knew You would.

Dear Lord, May I bother You again?
I feel so happy inside.
I’m so glad, I think I could burst and send out rays of light.
I have to tell someone about it.
Can I tell You?
I knew I could.

Dear Lord, Guess what!
I’m so peaceful inside.
Like the sea that has been gently smoothed after a violent storm.
May I share it with others?
I knew You wouldn’t mind.

By the way,
Did I ever thank You?
I know I should have – a long time ago.
I’m saying it now though.
Sorry it’s so late.
I know You understand.