Its Good Friday today 18th of April 2025
The cross weighs heavy
As it did
And the very thought
Darkens the day
With grief
A dying
Before living
Ponderings from Dr. Philip Alexander, surgeon at manalihospital.com
Do you know the pain
Of an empty crib
With a rattle that never shakes
And a cry that never was heard?
Can you feel the tug of a
A kick that was not birthed
And now lies in the earth
Somewhere still
Can you bear the weight
Of an unborn womb that was filled
But now the wind blows through?
Will that uncried wail
Wake you at night?
And will your breast reach
For a mouth that will never suck?
Will it?
It will be like the wind in the trees
Unheard, yet whipping
The twigs of your heartstrings
Leaving a wake unseen to all
Except to you.
Pain
Grief
Quiet
Still
The rattle in the crib is stilled
Hush and taste the tears
BURN OUT
Frazzled and fried
Fumes rising
From ambitions pyre
Smoke of charred aspirations
Dead
One foot before
Another
Mindless movement
Orbiting exhausted
Cells
Fog
Floating headward
Corrupting direction
Incapable coherence
Lost
Service in my name
Not His
If we are devoted to the cause of humanity, we shall soon be crushed and broken-hearted, for we shall often meet with more ingratitude from men than we would from a dog; but if our motive is love to God, no ingratitude can hinder us from serving our fellow men.
When we realize that Jesus Christ has served us to the end of our meanness, our selfishness, and sin, nothing that we meet with from others can exhaust our determination to serve men for His sake.
My Utmost for His Highest (Oswald Chambers)
Thankful
I am thankful for my station
Grateful for where you have put me
For I did not grow into where i am now
I am budded, trimmed and grafted
My faeet did not carry me to my doorstep
Nor did my thinking chart my course
I am placed and stationed
Gauged and positioned
To fill the space i now occupy
To rise to fill the pan now baking
That is my task, and mine alone
Gauged and governed by my God who sees
Unbounded aspiration
And unintended elevation
Can strip resources from ascendance
Leaving an untethered blimp like spectacle
Before a disaster orchestrated by ambition
Lazy apathy and unfaithful dereliction
Can bury me with briars of resentment
Sown on a grave that was never to be mine
Tended by those under my care
For whom i was never there
Growing where i am put,
Ah there is limitless possibility
to fill the sixty seconds of time well run
To harrow, water, weed and build
A garden of blooms, remembered hue
Nourished, cared for, faithful and true
To hear that master say
On his evening stroll
Well done my loved one, now my friend
Well done, well done, right till the end
The outer court
Smoke wafts softly upwards
Lifted by the silence within
An offering, from the brazen altar
In the kernel of my kiln
The sanctuary is cocooned safe
In the centre of space
Protected from the glare and blare
Sentineled placidity and garrisoned grace
Ah but the tumult at the outer wall
Bashing at the gates of court
Smashes like sea breakers at a dike
Dead to consequence, dumb to stridor
Clamor, cacophony, mindless rancour
Dealing with density calls for recruits at the gate
To stop, to hold
To guide, to scold
To cajole and convince
And those multiple cacophonies multiplied
With reverberating replies
Can commandeer rushing, clashing, stamping or bashing
To just hold the line from a fractious fate
The outer court is where character is tested
With mettle forged in the kiln at the core
When it shatters and shards at the outer gate
It retreats returns to be forged once again
Drawing steel from blood from a saviors veins
One day my sword will hold
And not demon me with its thrust
For that is when it is best wielded
When its cut does not bleed but forges a fire of its own
And the hand that holds it needs not burn with shame of its arc
But become a bridge of hope
Held out to a clamorous wanting world
Clueless of secret forges unlit in the dark
That glow hidden quietly in the waiting