Heaven has seen a great victory tonight.


Some have been wounded
Many are slain
Through the bloodied victory
Your throne: victorious rein
I have raised your banner
The enemy has seen
Deep, deep in his stronghold
Yes, his eyes have seen
He fears the valiant warrior
His spirit knows my blade
Now cowered in his fortress 
Dark plans are made
Made to pour his malice
Made to spite your crown
He fears the growing threat 
He knows the deafening sound
The trumpets sing of victory
The drums of war resound
Your rule has shown its strength
His flag lies on the ground
But he will return
He does not accept defeat
He may have here run
But it is mere retreat
He has seen you, warrior
And shall now come prepared
Never smote with ease
But you need never fear
Look above your head
The standard flies on high
You fight with my sword
By my wind, you fly
Sharped your blade, fast
Rest while you still may
Yes, he will return
With vengeance yet to say:


"You may have his strength
But you still bear yours
There is weakness still
I will find its doors!"


God, you are my strength
I look not to my own
By your shield I hold
Harvest what is sown
Bar the doors of weakness
Give me all you can
I take the shield and sword
The breastplate in my hand
Give my head your helm
Give my waist your belt
You, God, are the victor
No matter what is dealt
I lift my eyes to your light
Your heart shines on mine
Give me courage, oh God
I battle the front line
Give me all I need
From wisdom to your eyes
May I see our enemy
No matter the disguise


The battle, Lord, we've won
The time has come for joy
But the war still rages on
Rest this night, rejoice!

6/6/10

The light from the sun will shine and touch all below; that is its nature and its promise. We may accept it and enjoy it, or we may hide from its touch, but it is still shining and it always will be.

6/5/10

Our hearts are locks with but one key, and although many a key will fit into its cavity, there is only one that will open it

Listen

I have to a sort of revelation over these past few months, and it is simply this: God always wants to talk with me. It is not one of those 'once in a blue moon' things like many think, no, He is waiting to be in conversation with me. Even though I might not always hear it, He is always speaking to me. I started to hear God's voice right about the time that I started listening. I think of it like being out at night. If I go on a drive out at night and roll down my windows, I hear crickets chirping and birds cooing and a host of other sounds. But if my windows are up, and my music is on, how am I to hear the quiet voice just outside? No matter how much I cancel it out, though, those sounds are always sitting on the other side of my walls. So is the voice of the one who dearly loves us, and loves to talk with us.

We are given life not that God may live it through us, but that we may live it through Him

Wake Up, You Who Wait

Aslan is on the move
See spring in its march!
Victory shall be his song
Beneath the floral arch
Where his breath remains
Will prosper, bringing life
In ancient green and gold
Stands the awaited wife

Long awaited healing
We hold a frozen land
But we will have revival
Our Savior lies at hand

Ice of once springs forth
Melted by His gaze
From these distant clouds
Burst the glorious rays
What was once but clay
Will break up, bringing forth
The long awaited blooms
Greatest in their worth

The King once more arrives
He calls the dead and weak
"Wake up, you who wait!
The time has come to reap!"

Victory

Victory is counted as weakness surpassed
Carried to the hill to see the sun at last
Mute and deaf alike carried here along
From the shattered darkness to sing a new song
Victory lies not within the strength of arm
Nor is the sure avoidance from anything of harm
But in the hollow cry of men who know defeat
Raised within His arms to give what death deplete
Over yonder mountain lie many who succeed
Who fight with strength and valor, led by envy and greed
Their battle may be won, and men may give them praise
A red sun set with blood will see their end of days

Weep not, men of weakness; cry not men of loss
Yours will be the victory that reach beyond the cost
Sing a new song from the weak and humbled voice
Though you see only defeat, I say good men rejoice!
The sun must rise again within its fateful hour
Although we may not know its light, it will be our power
The sword and bow no longer will bring the victory
The banner is now held by Whom we cannot see

So says the Lord

"Sing to me, you weary men of helpless repute 
A weary soul calling me, I will not dispute
I see each bleeding wounded heart lying on the field
I come to you in silence though I may not here reveal
Trust to me, beloved, that I will hear your prayer
Each frail crying warrior I shelter with care
Though you cannot cry out for any man to hear
Mine is not so frail; I bear a listening ear
I judge each by his heart of hearts, though it may be weak
To one humbled in his loss, my heart longs to speak


So set your eyes for daylight, to where the sun will rise
The day is drawing nearer still where I wear no disguise 
Yes, the hour approaches with great exalted praise
Those who sought my heart to heal will have unending days"

So says the Lord

Glory

Who but aching bones to call upon your face?
What but idle words to quantify your grace?
Who that you should care, that I would catch a glance?
What has caught your eye that you would ask to dance?

Am I not just larger than the smallest grain of sand?
If you carried me would I fall from your hand?
Why the God who made it all would seek to know my heart
That you would long for me when we fall apart
That I could do you justice unto a faithless world
How to share the glory of the smallest shining pearl?
The greatest understatement any man could ever say:
To call you simply "God", as our speech would say

Galaxies surround you as stars dance in your sight
Suns came to existence as glory to your might
Oceans sing aloud with their voices all as one
To honor Your presence, from which all was begun
Trees and flowers raise to seek your shining face
All of life is captured by your never ending grace

All the words escape me as there were none to start
That I had not the mind of man to gaze upon this art!
Each piece of life unfolded sings in its own way
That I could share their song and glorify all days!
Minds of flesh cannot know what glory lies unsaid
Shut ears and closed mouths, our hearts bow to our heads
Awaken silent hearts, show what is not seen
In our eyes will shine your light like we've never seen

Glory to our maker, creator, giver of all things
I offer you my praise as the one and only King

Amen

The Earth Cries Out

Glory to the Maker

King of earth and sky

Heaven's light is brightest 

Within a child's eye

Breath of heaven eases

Peace unto my soul

Joy within the breezes

When the sky shines gold

A tapestry of colors

The artist at His work

Out from His great haven

No longer will he lurk

Sing to Him, Oh angels

Feathered wings abreast

From the seated thrones

Sing from you nests

Fly to Him, dear monarch 

Your wings shall wait no more

Take this message to Him:

"We long to hear you roar!"

Awaken might lion

The sun with warmth awakes

Call us by your standard

Give the earth a shake

By your mane, unite us

Call us to your side

You have called us suns

Remind us we are brides

Call the beauty in us

Leave not heart alone

Here we make the victory

That one day will be shown

The trees dance at your beauty

Look, even the Elm!

In all his splendid garb:

"Glory to Your relm!"

I say, "The earth cries out

From cloud to heart of stone

Listen, even the weeds

Rejoice that they were grown!"

Glory to the father

In the sky, His son

On this day, remind us

Your light: the only One

Heaven's song united

In the earth, a shout:

"See our savior coming!

Our king is on His route!"

Rejoice, oh my soul

Here is found all worth

Weaken not, my soul

He has given us new birth

Amen

Words for the Wailing Wall

This poem has a really amazing story behind it. I was sitting at Buon Giorno (the best coffee shop in the entire world), when God started speaking to me about the wailing wall. Now you must understand, some of my closest friends are going on a trip to Isreal -particularly Jerusalem- to pray over Isreal for its oppression and such. So, God tells me to start writing about something that I have very little knowledge of. I begin to write and all of the sudden my pen is practically flying across the page as God puts these words down:

The Lord will bring His laughter

He will dry the tears of the oppressed

From the days of sorrow

He will bring His rest

No more will you falter

Tears of joy are shed

Even through the desert

The shepherd’s sheep were fed

(So says the Lord)

“I fill the broken cisterns

I give to you new wine

Apart from me, no laughter

No joy apart from the vine

Weep not my beloved

I have heard your prayers

Wake up my beloved

In my joy you will share.”

So says the Lord