Finding The Secret

More Than Conquerors
August 2003

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”
–1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (NIV)

A large portion of poetry that has been written is about love and romance. Poets have written about the wonders of romance for centuries, and sent people seeking for their haven of happiness. They so often see love as an emotion, something a heart “falls” into. Unfortunately, it often works the other way, and the heart can just as quickly fall out of this love.

The binding of two hearts together through romance is beautiful. It is a wonderful creation, which God designed for our benefit. He meant for a husband and wife’s hearts to be bound together.
The problem is that the world thinks that love stops here. But true love, the love God meant us to live, is so much more than this! True love carries on when the fire of romance is smoldering. True love seeks not its own interests, but is ever giving, ever supporting, and ever exhorting. True love endures forever.

At twenty-one years of age, I am unmarried, and have never “fallen in love” or experienced the beauty of romance. But I have lived the reality of love. Love is patient, and it is not self-seeking. I am loving my future wife today by waiting for her, and keeping my heart pure until God brings her into my life.

To sacrifice your own emotions and desires for the greater good of another is a large part of what love is all about. This may mean carrying on, dying to yourself when emotions are cold, or it may mean sacrificing all dreams of romance until the time God has appointed. Whatever it may mean to you, keep strong in the love that Christ wants us to live, in spite of any emotions that stand in the way.

—Benjamin Graber

“The man who thoroughly loves God and his neighbor is the only man who will love a woman ideally - who can love her with the love God thought of between them when he made man male and female. The man, I repeat, who loves God with his very life, and his neighbor, as Christ loves him, is the man who alone is capable of grand, perfect, glorious love to any woman.” —George MacDonald

What Is Love?

Is love the ardent suitor
Whose heart is on fire,
Or the man, who for you
Gives up his desires?

Is love a roller-coaster
In passion and sin,
Or he who is by your side
Through the thick and thin?

Is love flowers and romance
Spiced with poetry,
Or the one who’s serving you
On a bended knee?

Love is patient, love is kind,
Always giving with you in mind!
Love does not boast, is not proud,
But still it shows up in a crowd—
Love is never filled with greed,
But is giving to those in need.
Love protects, always trusting,
For your best ever adjusting,
Love always prevails
Because it never fails…

—Benjamin Graber

A Woman’s Question

Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing
Ever made by hand above?
A woman’s heart, a woman’s life—
And a woman’s wonderful love.

Do you know you have asked for this priceless thing
As a child might ask for a toy?
Demanding what others have died to win,
With the reckless dash of a boy.

You have written my lesson of duty out;
Manlike, you have questioned me.
Now stand at the bar of my woman’s soul
Until I shall question thee.

You require your mutton shall be always hot,
Your socks and your shirt be whole;
I require your heart to be true as God’s stars
And as pure as His heaven your soul.

You require a cook for your mutton and beef,
I require a far greater thing;
A seamstress you’re wanting for socks and shirts—
I look for a man and a king.

A king for the beautiful realm called Home,
And a man that his Maker, God,
Shall look upon as He did on the first
And say: “It is very good.”

I am fair and young, but the rose may fade
From my soft young cheek one day;
Will you love me then ‘mid the falling leaves.
As you did ‘mong the blossoms of May?

Is your heart an ocean so strong and deep,
I may launch my all on its tide?
A loving woman finds heaven or hell
On the day she is made a bride.

I require all things that are grand and true,
All things that a man should be;
If you give this all, I would stake my life
To be all you demand of me.

If you cannot be this, a laundress and cook
You can hire and little to pay;
But a woman’s heart and a woman’s life
Are not to be won that way.

—Mary Lanthrap

A Woman’s Shortcomings

She has laughed as softly as if she sighed,
She has counted six, and over,
Of a purse well filled and a heart well tried—
Oh, each a worthy lover!
They ‘give her time;’ for her soul must slip
Where the world has set the grooving;
She will lie to none with her fair red lip:
But love seeks truer loving.

She trembles her fan in a sweetness dumb,
As her thoughts were beyond recalling,
With a glance for one, and a glance for some,
From her eyelids rising and falling;
Speaks common words with a blushful air,
Hears bold words, unreproving;
But her silence says—what she never will swear—
And love seeks better loving.

Go, lady, lean to the night-guitar
And drop a smile to the bringer;
Then smile as sweetly, when he is far,
At the voice of an in-door singer.
Bask tenderly beneath tender eyes;
Glance lightly, on their removing;
And join new vows to old perjuries—
But dare not call it loving.

Unless you can think, when the song is done,
No other is soft in the rhythm;
Unless you can feel, when left by One,
That all men else go with him;
Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,
That your beauty itself wants proving;
Unless you can swear ‘For life, for death!’—
Oh, fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day
On the absent face that fixed you;
Unless you can love, as the angels may,
With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,
Through behoving and unbehoving;
Unless you can die when the dream is past—
Oh, never call it loving!

—Elizabeth Browning

The Price of Love

The romance novels said that love is free—
That it’ll come at little cost to me—
But they couldn’t have lied any greater than this—
Look at all of these men that cost more than a kiss—

“How much the man?” I ask the Creator,
And the price that He quotes me is high.
Such a tax on my emotions and cost to my heart
Will run my poor penny bank dry—

I ponder and turn them each this way and that—
At such cost, I had better choose well—
Each one wears such charm, such sweet smiles,
That the good ones are so hard to tell—

That one? Too old. This one? Too shallow.
Him? No, he’s not worth what I’d pay—
I ask the Proprietor, “Have You got any more?”
And He says, “This is all for today—”

“Then I’ll wait till tomorrow,” I sigh and decide.
He smiles, “I think that’d be wise.”
And suddenly I see what I hadn’t before—
The Salesman has such beautiful eyes—

“Say, Sir,” I say, with a smile and shrug,
“How much for you?” And he laughs.
“I’m the Best, but for nothing. I’m free.” But He adds,
“Oh, and you can’t bring Me back.”

I stop and think. Such a deal, it would seem.
And with shock of a sudden I see
That the Salesman before me is none other than
The Man that was tortured for me—

“I’ll take you!” I say, in love in a moment.
And He said, “That’d be so sweet to do—
But if you haven’t noticed—perhaps you don’t see—
That I’ve already taken you—”

So perhaps what the love novels said is true—
That true love is actually free—
Though someday I’d like to take the name of a man—
Not that it’s something I need—

—Joanna Spencer
© Joanna Spencer. Used with permission

Let’s Be Men

Take up the cry; let’s not hold back.
Don’t watch the enemy, attack!
We’ve let our forces be put down.
It’s time to turn things back around.

We know our adversary’s might
Grows only when we stop the fight.
Let’s not just analyze and plan,
Try wielding swords with Spirit-strong hands.

Let’s raise our families, train our young,
Let’s teach them God’s own battle songs
Come on, men, there’s need for strength.
The list of hurts won’t lessen length.

What need for servants, this I see.
Men of compassion, give freely.
We’re called beyond a mere today.
Men, affect change, run things God’s way.

—Samuel Popiel

Marriage

Do you think about your husband,
Or think bout your wife,
Think about the commitment you made
For them to be in your life?

There will be times of conflict,
Maybe times of war.
You might think you’re in a battle
And can’t handle it anymore.

You might let the things you’ve said,
Or maybe the things they don’t,
Cause problems and confusion
That will probably get your goat.

Satan loves to cause these problems.
We sometimes blow them up out of size.
He wants to cause these problems
Between a husband and a wife.

You know who has the answer,
Should be talking to him everyday;
When you sit down with your spouse,
Reading your Bible together and pray.

Father, help us with these conflicts.
Help us win this war.
We want Satan to be defeated,
So he can’t harm our marriage any more.

We want your Holy Spirit
To bring peace to our lives.
We want the love between us
To be strong; God, make us wise.

Help us learn to see the problems
We face in our marriage everyday,
Turn them over to you Lord,
Love our spouse, and go Your way.

That I did always love,
I bring thee proof:
That till I loved
I did not love enough.

That I shall love alway,
I offer thee
That love is life,
And life hath immortality.

This, dost thou doubt, sweet?
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary.

—Emily Dickinson

Love Is…

Love is water
Lapping at the crust
That encapsulates our souls
Turning it to dust
That drifts away

Love is raindrops
Tip-tapping on the mind
Inviting you to open the door
And see the beauty
You may dare to find

Love is a housewife
Making her home in the heart
Leaving smiles in every corner—
The gifts she imparts
Changes a man
Like nothing else can!

—Benjamin Graber

Two In One

Were thou and I the white pinions
On some eager, heaven-born dove,
Swift would we mount to the old dominions,
To our rest of old, my love!

Were thou and I trembling strands
In music’s enchanted line,
We would wait and wait for magic hands
To untwist the magic twine.

Were we two sky-tints, thou and I,
Thou the golden, I the red;
We would quiver and glow and darken and die,
And love until we were dead!

Nearer than wings of one dove,
Than tones or colors in chord,
We are one—and safe, and forever, my love,
Two thoughts in the heart of one Lord.

—George MacDonald

Confused Escape

Get away from me!
Just let me be.
I can’t stand thee.
I yearn to flee.

If only I
Could get away,
I think I’d find
Some peace of mind.

But when I stop,
Start from the top,
I know the fault
Is mine to call.

Dissatisfied
And filled with pride
I criticized,
Myself capsized.

I’m running fast
Won’t watch your face.
Yet when I’m gone
I’m so alone.

Is it better
To fast fetter
Myself away
From public’s eye?

I’d rather be
Right here with thee,
Than instead be
Alone with me.

—Samuel Popiel

Another truth I have been learning this summer is to make the most every moment, “vindicating each of them for immortality”. Each moment we live for ourselves is lost forever. Never again can we regain time spent selfishly. But when we give up ourselves, we are setting aside treasures in heaven, which last forever! Time that is spent lifting others up is captured in immortality.

Another way we capture time for immortality is to enjoy every moment, seeing the beauty in nature, and living in communication with our heavenly Father. If we are living in joy, every second is a treasure, and every moment is set aside in our hearts for eternity.

Vivaciousness

Sometimes the violence on earth
Violates our hearts and souls,
Virtues in life are shrouded,
Life can seem to be in vain
And out of control.

While your questions vacillate,
Let me vouch for the wonder
And verify the joy of life
Before the values you’ve learned
Are torn asunder.

For life is venerable
When we live it vibrantly,
Vying for every moment
Vindicating each of them
For immortality!

This is vivaciousness—
Seeing the vividness
Found in this verdant world,
And venturing to grasp it—
God’s gift of joy to possess.

—Benjamin Graber

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or
nakedness or danger or sword?… No, in all these things
we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”
—Romans 8:35, 37

If you have any comments or questions, or if you have a poem to share, please send an e-mail to bgraber@neo.rr.com

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