Take Up Your Cross

by Stephen Brown

Did you hear the guitarist on the worship team?
That solo was awesome, and boy could he sing.
I just don't get why the words are always late on the screen;
It's such an interruption to my listening.

Take up Your cross and follow me, Lord,
I tried to read that book You wrote, and got a little bored,
So if I give You a little, will You give me back more?
Take up Your cross and follow me, Lord

Did you hear what the pastor said? Now that was pretty good,
He really told all those people- to do what they should,
He spoke on upholding morals, so profound, I wish you heard,
'Cause you don't say things as well as the pastor in your Word.

I bought this shirt and picked out these shoes
To form my identity,
I live my life exactly how I choose,
This is the twenty-first century.
Don't make me go into the ministry!

I hear You knocking, what are You standin' out there for?
You've got two hands, and you can open up the door
Well, I'd follow You, but I've got too much to do,
So to make things easy, why don't you follow me?

Take up Your cross and follow me, Lord,
I tried to read that book You wrote, and got a little bored.

I'll be sleeping, just wake me when it's time for my reward,
Take up Your cross and follow me, Lord

A Wonderful Lie

by Karan Bhasin.

You can check out his blog at (http://doyoubelievethetruth.blogspot.com/)

Can you smile once more,
That same look you gave me when,
When you found there was nothing to hide.
It was a wonderful lie.

It could have never been any better,
Then you went ahead and said those words,
To make it so much more than it ever was.
Just a wonderful lie.

I've never felt better,
But I've never felt worse.
It's a wonderful lie.
Just a wonderful lie.

It was a light hello,
It was a heavy goodbye,
What happened in between I'll never know.
It was a wonderful lie.

You said so much but,
You meant so little,
Were you afraid or did I go wrong?
Just a wonderful lie.

You've never felt better,
But you've made me feel worse.
It's a wonderful lie,
Just a wonderful lie.

You left so many promises unfulfilled,
Even the ones I never asked for,
Did you make them just to break them?
Each one was a wonderful lie.

I wanted to believe it all,
I really did believe it all,
It was the best thing I'd ever seen.
It was the most wonderful lie.

It'll never be better,
It'll never be worse.
It's a wonderful lie,
Just a wonderful lie.

I really do believe it's over,
I really do believe I'm okay,
I really do believe I don't need you now.
It's just another wonderful lie.

A Poem of Hope

by Christopher Ian Hill

Here I live in the city of abandoned dreams
Where no one thinks positive and only screams

A place where sin is consumed day and night
There is a spiritual battle that I must fight

A place where put-downs echoes from my past
Why can’t I let go, and forgive and move on fast?

I need to break the chain of what’s holding me back
Show no lack of confidence and show no slack

Now, I see the rain and clouds clearing away
The sun peaks through the clouds trying to shine today

The sad sky of gray dissolves out of sight
Letting in the joyful sky of blue shine bright

The sound of celestial music plays in my ear
Giving me hope, the sound of no fear

And what once was an expression of sadness
Now cheerfully changes into the expression of gladness

A place where people once hurt and now hurt no more
The sound of their laughter and bliss galore

My heart and soul now finding warmth and peace
Bitterness, anger, and depression now decrease

And where once was this city of abandoned dreams
Is now a place where dreams fulfilled and sins redeemed

Guest Contributor

Stephen Brown is a student of Visual Communications at Chemeketa Community College, and soon-to-be student of Theology and Music at Corban College in Oregon. An autodidactic with no formal education in his upbringing, he has diverse creative and intellectual interests, particularly in the arts. He currently spends his time studying, volunteering in local ministries, and writing poetry and music.

He will be contributing guest posts and facilitating other guest posts over the next couple weeks. His blog can be found at: http://stephenjbrown.com

Disciple's Prayer Part IV

   And don’t let us yield to temptation,

but rescue us from the evil one.

For yours is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory forever,

Amen.

Save us from what we can't save ourselves from,

The dark rooms,

The privacy,

The being alone, or at least thinking we are.

Rescue us from ourselves,

Our friends,

Our enemies,

and the Enemy.

For you have the upper hand,

The victory already won,

The past, the present,

and Eternity.

( First lines in italics borrowed from Tyndale House Publishers: Holy Bible : New Living Translation. 2nd ed. Wheaton, Ill. : Tyndale House Publishers, 2004, S. Mt 6:13)

Life Support

As the previous visitors, the color had abandoned the wall, leaving it bare, white, and lifeless. Only sound remained, the soft dying hum of hospital machinery and the gasp of forced breathing. Light filtered through the dimmed window panes, but even that seemed sluggish and reluctant to stick around. Someone knocked on the door, but the man in the bed didn't get up to answer it.

His eyes didn't even open to see who came through the door anyway. Two men came in, watching him breathe, silently waiting for a response. None came. The first glanced to a second, perplexed. His lips barely moved as his whispered, "Are we supposed to ask him, or..."

The second moved his lips as if to say "shh", but no sound came out. Both glanced at the man in the bed expectantly. Moments passed, and still, the room remained unchanged save for the growing tension. Shifting on his feet, the first man glanced at the man in the bed uneasily. He noticed the brace that had replaced the collar that once graced that regal neck. Even when laying down, the man stood proudly, though a hospital gown had replaced his robes.

Finally, the first man sighed softly. "When's he--"

The second glanced at him pointedly, mouthing "wait."

They waited. The moment they lingered for never came, and neither did the answer.

The Stalker and the Slipper

I told them they had the wrong girl, but apparently body guards and government officials aren't paid for their listening skills. Here I sat in my house, in my favorite comfy chair reading a book, and they rang the door bell, at ten  o'clock at night. No door to door salesmen will ever knock that late.

Removed from my usual sanctuary, I stood up, set my book down, and answered the door. I blinked, shaking the fatigue out of my eyes, not believing what I saw. Two cars had been parked in front of my step-mother's house, and a group of men had made their way toward my door. If they had meant to look friendly, they needed to hire a new image consultant. Since when do tuxedos and sunglasses encourage a welcome-mat demeanor?

If the look of them on my front lawn at ten o'clock at night in tuxedos and sunglasses didn't throw me, the box in their hand did. It sparkled in the body guard's hand, transparent glass with a rosey satin pillow inside. I hate pink. I hate Barbie dolls. I hate curling irons, but above all, I hate high heels. Inside the box, rested a glass slipper that nearly ran the pillow through like a double edged sword.

This had to be some sort of joke. Who did this guy think he was? Who did he think I was? Did my frumpy pajamas scream repressed beauty queen? Apparently the frown on my face screamed "Come on in!"

So they did, pushing me out of the way as they settled down on my couch. As an afterthought, they escorted me to my ottoman, plopped my tush on it and removed my left shoe without a word. A bit too shocked, I didn't stop them. And then...to my horror...they put the slipper on my foot.

And it fit.