Finding The Secret

More Than Conquerors
April 2004 Part 1

“Then Judas which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, Saying, I have sinned in that I have shed betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? See thou to that. And he cast down the thirty pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.” —Matthew 27:3-5

“And Peter remembered the words of Jesus, which said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And he went out and wept bitterly.” —Matthew 21:75

“The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.” —Psalm 34:8

As Christians, it is more and more important for us to realize the profound difference between uplifting repentance as opposed to being swallowed up with guilt. Our relationship to God will never be the same when we realize that God has saved us not only from sin but from the mindset of our position before God. We are free! We have the freedom to speak to him in praise, confession, and confidence; we have the freedom to ask of him in intercessory invocation, personal request, and pleas for help; and, we have the freedom to hold conversation with Him at any time of our day! In His eyes, we are blameless, and our lives before Him are unbound by our conscience.

Judas Iscariot’s story is one of the saddest narratives in the Bible. Although there are many sad examples of men in relationship with God who proved unfaithful, Judas was a man who followed Christ about everywhere and, to all appearances, had given up many things to be with Him. Nevertheless, he succumbed to the devil, was overwhelmed by his actions, and ended up casting himself away.
Let us no longer repent only. Let us pray that God would give us a heart of repentance! God is faithful when we depend on Him for forgiveness and trust him to resolve our mistakes.

—Samuel Popiel

When Guilt Overruled Repentance

Finished; but yet not over with.
Can’t sink further than this slime pit.
This slough in which ye view my state
Is tinged with sins both small and great.
Since I cannot climb out alone,
I’ll sit, and stare, and squirm, and groan.
It’s dark, and rank, and bitter here,
But long have my senses been seared.

My conscience is condemned as I,
For when I fell, it let me lie.
O, thou, my heart, why bitter now?
Has circumstance a harsh-knit brow?
My heart is silent; won’t reply.
It glares at me and I know why.
Companions, we spirit rent, sigh,
For, see, judgment must soon come nigh.

Why try to hide in this sin swamp
When guilt upon my face is stamped?
Ah! guilt... that drenching, staining, smear;
Self-accusation fraught with sneers.
And all my tears draw naught but scorn.
Oh, curse the ill my heart has borne!
Still, oaths confirm my condition
And firmer set my perdition.

O, thou of purer heart than I,
Lend me thine ears to hear my cry.
Perhaps in my woeful mourning
My words may serve as strong warning.
Since I cannot be pulled from guilt,
It may happen, instead, thou wilt.
Hear me! never give up thy fight.
Lest, too, thou join me in my plight.

—Samuel Popiel

Dirty with Myself

I am dirty with myself—
I’m bloody, covered in me—
I’m disgusting in my eyes,
For sin is so ugly—

I’m trying not to run—
I’d die for a small fig leaf—
For I am dirty with myself,
And dirt is all I see—

I’m broken down with sin—
I’m begging You to see—
All nothing can I do—
Father, cover me—

—Joanna Spencer
© Joanna J. Spencer. Used with permission.

“What a breeding nest of cares and pains was the human heart! Surely it needs some refuge! How the world needs a Savior to whom anyone might go, at any moment, without a journey, without letters or commendations of credentials. Surely such a God as would send his own Son into the world, would have him appear among us, clothed in the garb of humanity, to take all the consequences of being the Son of obedience among the children of disobedience, engulfing their wrongs in his infinite forgiveness, and winning them back, by slow, unpromising, and tedious renewal, to the heart of his Father—surely such a God would not have created them knowing that some of them would commit such horrible sins from which he could not redeem them. The words rise to mind, ‘Come unto me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ (Matthew 11:28)
“Ah, the heart fills! Did a man ever really say such words? Such words they are! If a man did utter them, either he was the most presumptuous of mortals, or he could do what he said.” —George MacDonald

Come Unto Me

Come unto me, the Master says:—
But how? I am not good;
No thankful song my heart will raise,
Nor even wish it could.

I am not sorry for the past,
Nor able not to sin;
The weary strife would ever last
If once I should begin!

Hast thou no burden then to bear?
No action to repent?
Is all around so very fair?
Is thy heart quite content?

Hast thou no sickness in thy soul?
No labor to endure?
Then go in peace, for thou art whole;
Thou needest not his cure.

Ah, mock me not! I often sigh;
I have a nameless grief,
A faint sad pain—but such that I
Can look for no relief.

Come, come to Him who made thy heart;
Come weary and oppressed;
To come to Jesus is thy part,
His part to give thee rest.

New grief, new hope He will bestow,
Thy grief and pain to quell;
Into thy heart himself will go,
And that will make thee well.

—George MacDonald

The Peace of God

A turmoil rages in my heart,
The wind has stripped my soul all bare—
And I’m in need of rest—God’s rest!
Before I’m torn with my despair.

I know where lies tranquility,
But to approach it—can I dare?
A peace so great it’s violent—
A love that conquers all that’s there—

There lies the lake of God’s own peace!
But am I ready for the dive?
To gamble with infinity—
I do not know who can survive.

As deep as all the bluest skies,
And wider than the Milky Way—
It’s darker than the path of death
And brighter than the light of day—

But I will fling away my doubts,
I’m ready for my greatest swim!
I’m longing for the peace of God
So I will lose myself in Him!

—Benjamin Graber

Cried Out With Tears

Lord, I believe, help Thou mine unbelief:
Lord, I repent, help mine impenitence:
Hide not Thy Face from me, nor spurn me hence,
Nor utterly despise me in my grief;
Nor say me nay, who worship with the thief
Bemoaning my so long lost innocence:—
Ah me! My penitence a fresh offence,
Too tardy and too tepid and too brief.
Lord, must I perish, I who look to Thee?
Look Thou upon me, bid me live, not die;
Say “Come,” say not “Depart,” though Thou art just:
Yea, Lord be mindful how out of the dust
I look to Thee while Thou dost look on me,
Thou Face to face with me and Eye to eye.

O Lord, on Whom we gaze and dare not gaze,
Increase our faith that gazing we may see,
And seeing love, and loving worship Thee
Through all our days, our long and lengthening days.
O Lord, accessible to prayer and praise,
Kind Lord, Companion of the two or three,
Good Lord, be gracious to all men and me,
Lighten our darkness and amend our ways.
Call up our hearts to Thee, that where Thou art
Our treasure and our heart may dwell at one:
Then let the pallid moon pursue her sun,
So long as it shall please Thee, far apart,—
Yet art Thou with us, Thou to Whom we run,
We hand in hand with Thee and heart in heart.

—Christina Rossetti

The Judas Heart

The Lord walked with the disciples.
He loved them all, with no exception.
He called them from their nets away
And all from their own profession.

There was one that walked with Him.
By name, he as called Judas, Simon’s son;
One given to weakness of trust.
His was a spirit most undone.

At the Passover meal, they gathered
In an upper room, each man
With Jesus; the hope for their people.
The Passover meal began.

Jesus warned that he would be betrayed
By one they knew not who.
“Is it me, my Lord?” they each had asked.
‘Tis something they would not do.

They asked who would do such a thing.
Jesus said, “It will be Him that dips sop with me.
He will be the one. Betrayal he will bring.”

Judas dipped in the bowl, with the Lord,
And met the Master’s eyes.
Jesus spoke, softly, “Do what you must do, quickly,”
And Judas left with no replies.

He stole away, through the night,
To meet with those he knew.
The prize thirty pieces of silver, he received,
Just as the Lord knew he would do.

Judas, speaking to the priest and leaders of the law
To whom he had committed to do this deed,
“You will know Him as the one I kiss.
He will be the Jesus. Follow, now, my lead.”

To the garden, where the Lord was kneeling in prayer,
Came the priest and soldiers, seeking Him.
Jesus met them on the path;
My Lord, Christ, who never knew any sin.

With the darkness all around them,
Peter sought to defend and raised a sword.
The others shrank into the shadows,
in fear of the arresting of their Lord.

Judas cried, “My Lord,” and greeted Him
With the kiss of a betrayer’s heart
For thirty pieces of silver. That night,
Judas had sealed his part.

The rest we know from Bible history.
The tender Lamb of God was slain
And Judas, seeing what he had done,
Would hang himself before the day would wane.

His thirty pieces of silver, he returned—
Which bought the potters field a grave for Him;
Called, to this day, even yet,
A field of blood, beneath the hangman’s limb.

We think “how very awful”,
Betrayed for silver in thirty pieces.
What a terrible thought we have.
Hatred for the Judas heart, unleashes.

But, I have another thought.
Have I, myself, sold Him for less—
Maybe and extra hour of sleep, on Sunday,
Or passing the gossip of untruthfulness?

Or, the sin of omission
When I heard an untruth spoken and yet not
Let others know the better.
In the field of blood, have I bought Judas’ plot?

Or, was He sold for even less, by me,
When ungodly words I heard, then repeated—
Or at unsavory jokes I laughed
When, in truth, I should have retreated?

Judas sold my precious Lord
For thirty pieces of silver, that day.
I suppose, as I view my own life,
I’ve sold Him for less along the way.

Forgive me, Lord, as I seek your heart.
Forgive me, I am so grieved within my own sin
For giving You up in my sinful bent.
Forgive me, once again.

Judas was not much different then I am.
In sin, he reaped the sinful harvest—
Sold for thirty pieces of silver,
A Judas heart missed the home of the blest.

We are sowing, by our deeds, unto the harvest.
We will reap just what we sow, today.
Have you sold unto the harvest a Judas Heart
Or have you surrendered to the Masters way?

© 2004 by Sandra Griffin
Used with permission
http://www.our.homewithgod.com/sandra
http://poetrypoem.com/inhimthroughhimforhimsandy

There is no way I can know the heart of Judas or any other. For there are times I cannot not really know my own. I don’t think Judas knew the extent of His betrayal, which it would lead to His very death ... because, in the Bible, it says, “Seeing the deeds he had done, he was grieved in his heart, and tried to return the thirty pieces of silver, and went out and hung himself.” But, the money was used to buy a potters field, for burying foreigners in the land. So, Judas had bought a grave with his money.

How often do we sell the Lord for even less by listening to that dirty joke, or gossip and sending it on to another, or (when we hear another’s name being sullied by an untruth) we didn’t speak up to bring the truth to light?

Maybe, it was just a penny or two that didn’t belong to you. Indeed, a penny or a million dollars is all the same to God. It’s a daily thing, in my life, to filter all things through His hands so as not to reap unto myself.

A Judas Heart

If I have a Judas heart then,
Lord, let it be for grief of my sin—
Then fall upon my knees, in prayer.
Forgive the Judas in me. Let me try, again.

© 2004 by Sandra Griffin
Used with permission

My Life’s Prayer

May my soul find rest in God alone.
My life and faith blessedly atoned.
Salvation is mine from Him
A precious gift freely giv’n.

He alone is my rock and my salvation—
My fortress, and may I never be shaken.
May my soul find faith alone in God
Along this path so heavily trod.

May my hope come only from Him—
He paid the price for all my sins.
May I trust in Him at all times,
Trust in Him with all my heart finds.

May I pour my heart out to my Lord
Keep my mind, soul and spirit in one accord.
Dear God, You alone are my refuge.
May I always remain steadfastly rooted in You.

—Terra Mandrell
© Terra Mandrell. Used with permission.

What is Easter?

Easter’s not about candy or eggs that have been hidden and found,
Easter’s all about Jesus and the stake that was put in the ground—
Easter’s not about bunnies or Easter bonnets and such,
Easter’s all about God and His love for us, so much—
Easter’s not about baskets and colorful jelly beans,
Easter’s all about Jesus and His plan to set us free—
Easter’s not about turkey or big, fancy ham dinners ,
Easter’s all about Jesus shedding His blood to save sinners.
Easter’s all about Jesus and His wonderful plan for us,
Delivering us by grace so free, bringing us up and out of the dust
Easter is that glorious day when Jesus arose from the grave
And offers us new life, if we just receive the gift He gave.
The gift of Himself, His shed blood for all,
If only we render ourselves to the call.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life” —John 3:16

The Living Cross

I was dead, a fractured timber,
With a gnarled and rough hewn face;
Bereft of all the beauty
That, once, the eye could trace.

Just cracked and splintered lumber
(Cut and shaped to do a chore)
That would, someday, measure evil ~
With an arching, damning, score.

Those soldiers yanked me up and
Slammed me down, upon a man;
Bruising neck and shoulders,
Torn as only whippings can.

At once, I felt a surge of life
Dart thru my dried-out frame.
My contact, with this wounded
Man, made me alive, again.

I felt the sap, of vibrant life,
Renew my withered core
And surge of joyous, tingling, spark;
Just like the days of yore.

I felt those hands that held me,
As He carried me along,
And reveled in the surge of joy
That filled my heart with song.

But, this joy was interrupted
When He dropped me to the ground.
’Twas a painful thump, then scraping,
As He dragged me all around.

I, now, began to grasp the nature
Of His halting stumbling stride;
To feel the awful pressure
Of His grief and strain inside.

I, soon, began to sense the pain
That overwhelmed His heart;
To realize that I was, soon,
To have a mirrored part.

The man, to whom they gave
The job to tote me half the way,
Did surely feel his burden
Was alive, that eerie day.

They threw Christ’s battered body
Hard, upon my stretched out bands,
And drove those rusty spikes
In me, thru my Creator’s hands.

This trembling beam was overwhelmed
As, closely, He was pressed
To hear Him breathe those muffled prayers,
Denied to all the rest.

This man whose love could give
New life to others starkly dead,
Whose very touch would turn their life
To power and praise instead ...

Had shared, with me, the song
Of life that true forgiveness sings;
The quenching of the cruel curse
That disobedience brings.

Claws

I fight—I fail—
I fall—I wail—
I say, once more,
I will reach the shore—

But all I do
Is bare my claws,
And fight the waves
Of love because

I fight—I fail—
I fall—I wail—
And this is sin—
So snug within—

And hopelessness
Is near, I fear—
For sin has brought
A callous tear—

A happy ending
Cannot be found,
For my feet have yet
To touch the ground—

To touch the ground—
To touch a grace—
I grit my teeth,
And turn my face—

Flung

Flung upon His mercy
Clinging to His hand,
You may call it reckless,
What you cannot understand—

Leaving worldly comforts
Walking all alone,
You may think it rash,
I’ve regarded it my home—

Launched upon the promise
His infinity—
You may see it foolish—
Here with God? How can it be?

—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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