Shifting Sand

“… like a foolish man who built his house on sand …”

Matthew 7:24-27

We stood on the edge of the deep cold water, marveling at how far the winds and waves had beaten back the beach, how much of the sand dunes had been consumed by winter’s rage. I stood next to the man who has walked this beaten path with me, staring up at the boardwalk that just last fall had carried us across the dunes. The thick, long posts that once had been buried deep in the sand now hung exposed over the cliff of a disappearing dune. More than ten feet of the dunes had been consumed by winter’s destructive winds and waves.

And with my hand in his, I whisper, “I am sorry.” Tears course as my eyes meet his. A short nod, as if he knows why I am apologizing before the words ever flow from my mouth. “I am so sorry for the last three years, for the last twenty six years, for the life I tried to build on shifting sand.”

The truth of the Word of God is so evident in these beaten down sand dunes. The wind and the waves came, washed away the sandy foundation, and the structures couldn’t stand. Bits and pieces of it now are scattered at the bottom of the dunes to be washed away by the next storm. So much like my life. Positive my foundation was rock, not just any rock, but the solid Rock of Christ, until the storm raged. And when the unexpected storm of the past blew in, every brick that wasn’t of Christ was knocked clean out from under the beautiful life I had built. Crumbling, rotten decay. The house did not stand, but fell headlong into the sea of lies and addiction. Only, it wasn’t a house that fell, it was a woman. I am that woman.

The good news of the gospel found me in the mess I had made. The sandy lies that had washed away are being replaced brick by brick with the truth of the Word of God. The accusations and shame that I have kept hidden in the depths of my heart are being carried out by the tide. Today, I am so grateful. I am so thankful that Christ is the solid Rock on which I stand. I thank God that the names I have been called, the things that have been done to me, the accusations made, the addictions that I fell to when past hurts raised their ugly heads, and the sins I have committed are not who I am. Those labels and heartaches have affected me, but they have been washed away like sand on the seashore . I am a new creation in Christ. I am standing in the truth of His Word and He is daily giving me the grace I so desperately need to cling to Him as the world rages on around me!

And for you this morning, can I just ask, what are you building your house on? When the storms come – and they will come – will your foundation stand? Are you the wise man building his house on the rock or the foolish man building his house on the sand? I encourage you to take time today to just sit at the feet of Jesus and let Him show you His truth. The only foundation that is able to withstand the storms, the waves, and the beating wind is the solid Rock of Christ!


Pebbles of Forgiveness

No ones knows the heartache
or the heavy burdens a child was forced to bear.
No one sees the daily struggles with which the past has cursed my present.
Yet there is a God who commands me:


The harms done.
The love spurned.
The abuse endured.

My Rock drops pebbles of forgiveness
to toss into the past
To sprinkle like refreshing rain
On those who were knowingly to blame,
Creating ripples of hope in their seas of shame,
And beginning to ease my memories and pain.

The Choice

 Pain comes to claim my heart.
The needle or the pen,
The choice is before me again
Pain comes to claim my heart.
The needle or the pen?
Will I write to claim the pain
Or will I let drugs have free reign?
The needle or the pen?
Will I write to claim the pain?
Pour out memories that taunt
Till they no longer haunt,
Will I write to claim the pain?
Pour out memories that taunt
Aloud on paper white
Or seek poison to silence the fight?
Pour out memories that taunt.
Aloud on paper white
Ugly letters scrawled in black ink
Create a space for me to think.
Aloud on paper white.
Ugly letters scrawled in black ink
Pain comes to claim my heart
Memories now written still rip my life apart
Ugly letters scrawled in black ink
Pain comes to claim my heart.
The needle or the pen,
The choice is before me again
Pain comes to claim my heart.

My attempt at the form Catena Rondo, as introduced at Poetic Bloomings.

Heaven’s Hand

Five treasures laid in heaven
neither by my choice nor by my hand
Precious pearls in faith’s storehouse
so much more than grains of sand
Five souls soar secure, untarnished, undefiled
safe in my Savior’s land
Five hearts never know sin guilt
or pain of growing earthly old
Five pairs of feet skip and run free
on streets laid with finest gold
Five babes my arms empty ache to hold
rest safely Home in Heaven’s hand.

Tell A Story

Track marks tell a story
she wishes they didn’t tell
about a girl who faltered
as to smack she fell
when her heart was bleeding,
bruised by evil men
His scars tell a story
she grieves that they tell
about the Innocent who died
as to evil men he fell
when His heart stopped beating,
thrashed and hung upon a cross.
His grave tells a story
she rejoices that it tells
about a dead Man raised
to overcome her hell
when His tomb was empty,
defeated death and evil men.
Her life tells a story
she humbly does share
about a drug addict rescued
by the King’s gentle care
when He silenced accusations,
made a new creation.
Her scars tell a story
she’s no longer shamed to tell
Bout a Savior who renamed her
made her sick heart well,
when he freed from heroin’s call
healed harm done by evil men.

Stained Glass

Stained glass people fill the pew
wondering if they are really new
Bright joyful smiles on the outside
Hearts shattered  pieces  inside
Hiding from judgmental view

Oh, if the broken but knew
all the pieces  now askew
by the Savior are priceless fired,
His  Masterpieces love-inspired
windows we see God's mercy through. 

Broken shards forged to form a view 
of mercy, grace, and the Word True
His glory, your good  His desire
Shines bright from the heavenly fire
God's love through Christ makes you new.

Perfect Peace

Gentle breeze breathes a sigh,
rustling leaves in passing by.
Eagles quiet glide on high
spying prey from the sky.
Lazy river sings its song,
hitting rocks that don’t belong.
Swing groans in rhythmic beat
as feet make it sway, retreat.
Soul surrenders to perfect peace
as to the Creator fears release.

Written in response to Poetic Bloomings Prompt #243: Motivation – Tranquility