Finding The Secret

More Than Conquerors!

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.
“What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” —Romans 8:28-39

More Than Conquerors

Who designed the page of time,
And uses souls as ink to pen
The story of the lives of men?
Choreographer of rhyme,
He makes our dreams dynamic poems,
And takes our hands and leads us home.

What, then, is there left to say?
There isn’t any way to lose
When we the Author’s plan will choose!
Enemies in full array
Much havoc in our lives may play,
But God will always win the day!

Though we’re beaten once again,
We stumble, but we will not fall,
’Cause God is mighty through it all!
He’s the One who holds the pen,
And though we fight in many wars
We will be more than conquerors!

—Benjamin Graber

Behind

I looked before me, and all I saw
Was a field of sadness, dank and dark,
With nothing lovely in my view—
Nothing that left me praising You—

I looked beside me, and my eyes beheld
All the swamp of mire around,
And sorrow, black with misery,
All enough to swallow me—

But I look behind me, and now I see
That everything is light and sweet—
A spark to light the Better fire—
The low things meant for something higher—

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

He Knows The Dust

The Master Artist takes a brush,
And dips it in the finest paint,
Then with a flourish of His Hand
Begins with color very faint

He has a picture in His mind,
Exactly how He wants it done,
What layers to create the depth,
He chooses one by one.

No wash of His is done without,
Each variation has a needful hue,
His creation is unfolding,
With eternal value.

A touch of luster, a daub of shadow,
To make the highlights glow,
Some whisps for sparkling movement,
From a gentle heart doth flow.

Deep within there’s hidden secrets,
That no-one ever knew,
Other’s only see the diamonds,
He knows the dust from which it grew.

Who can tell from whence it came,
Or to where of such, should go,
God ushers forth, just as he pleases,
This we surely know.

Soft Whispers from
Derry’s Heart Poems
© 2003 used with permission
heartwhispers@iinet.net.au

God Gave Me Lemons

God gave me lemons, you may say
But no, you’re very wrong!
God has given me joy, strength, peace
And even a glorious song!

Don’t look at me and feel so sad—
I’m right where I should be!
God knows my every heartache
And He has helped me see.

With awareness so very divine
I see so clearly now
What my wonderful Master wants of me
By giving me such grace—oh, how?

To carry on with struggles each day
In a body broken and warn
He gives me strength and courage too
To forget I’m twisted and torn

He loves me more than I ever thought
His love stretches far and wide
I thank him for his daily grace
From which I’ll never hide!

This body is mine for only a while
For soon I will be blessed
When Jesus calls me home one day
I’ll find my eternal rest.

For now I must remember though,
He has work for me to do
To share his salvation message
And help make lives brand-new!

No more suffering, pain or cares
For God has a special home
For us to live eternally
With Jesus on His throne

So as I sit here in this chair
I do not fuss or moan
I dwell on heavenly things above
And my eternal home.

—Greta Cole
© Greta Cole. Used with permission.

Made Victorious

We are made victorious through the blood of the Lamb of God.
There is no other which gives victory, in this land we now trod.
He was the perfect sacrifice, who gave his life and took away our sin.
He is our Lord and Savior, and our dearest friend.

Every promise, he has given, we can claim, by his holy name.
He will never change, but will always be the same.
He is the same God, as yesterday, who hears our every cry.
He promised, one day, we shall rise to meet him in the sky.

Hold fast to faith and hope in Christ.
Believe in Him and speak His Word, each day.
His eyes are upon the righteous and their life.
He always sees and will answer, when we pray.
~We are more than Conquerors through Jesus Christ our Lord.~
Romans 8: 37
Jo Ann Kelly © 2004
J. P.’s Inspirations
Used with permission
http://www.my.homewithgod.com/jpinspirations/
Even Though Weary

I’m trying to climb another mountain.
But, I’m so weary, it seems.
I wish I had stayed in the lush valley and
Found respite in the cool water streams.

Have I forgotten to take my provision,
Needed to help me on the way;
Filling, to the full, on His word ~ refreshing?
Or, did I forget to praise as I pray?

I must not look back.
’Twould be to admit my defeat.
I must keep on climbing.
The Lord never sounded retreat.

Ever mindful on my way,
Jesus has been here, before me.
I must keep my tired eyes on the mountain top;
A better view of His splendor to see.

All I see must be sifted through His word,
To discern the truth in all things;
The laying all on the altar, in praise,
To face what each new day brings.

When weariness over takes me, and
To go on seems more than I can bare,
He tells me to lean on Him.
’Tis easier when the burdens we share.

Sometimes, I long for what was before,
For fearing what lies ahead; with dread.
In His word, a promise of an oasis.
Keep on climbing. He will do as He has said.

There is clean, clear, water refreshing
From the mountains that feed the valley, below.
Keep on climbing the mountain.
As you do, then, you, too, will know ...

The purest water is sifted
Through the sand and rocks, and stone.
The finest treasures are hidden (until they go
To the refiner’s fire), unspoken, unknown.

Often, the sweetest rose, ever perfect,
Is found on the mountain, where it grows.
Sometimes, we do our best service, though weary,
In the secret time that nobody else knows.

Many times, the sweetest song we sing, from our heart,
Aches where and when no one can see or hear;
Touching the heart of God, Himself,
So to hear us. He will draw near.

Praises, from tired lips, are often
The most precious songs we sing.
Prayers, long before the day breaks, are
The ones that make the bells of heaven ring.

When too weary for the journey ahead,
Take rest and begin to praise Him, anyway.
For, it will ne’er be forgotten
In the light of heaven, someday.

Has your journey been filled with stone
And pebbles to bruise your feet?
Just remember the mountain top and climb on
To where you and Heaven will meet.

Refined through the fire of His word,
Sifted through a nail scared hand,
Brought from the fire as gold
(Where the pure water flows)
And upon His promises;
Even though weary, I stand.

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

The Wind Under My Wings

Do you not know,
Comprehend, fathom, realize, undergo,
Have you not heeded,
Listened discovered, needed,
The Lord, the everlasting God
The Creator,
Designer, Sustainer, Composer
Of all the earth, world, turf,
From Him all has it’s worth.

He never grows tired
Drained or weary,
For nothing about Him is dreary.
By imparting His power
Energy, force and authority shower
Unrestricted on the weak,
Powerless, fragile, tender,
For even youth have to seek,
As they too, grow weary and tired,
Drained, exhausted, spent
And need to be fired,
Sparked, impassioned, ignited,
By hope in the Lord,
Sovereign, Almighty Master,
Speaking His powerful Word.

For on His strength we rely,
Depend, lean, trust,
To lift us high
Above every day life,
Mortality, time, existence
With it’s struggle,
Rivalry, fear and strife.

He gives us wind in our sails,
Lift, height, eagle flight,
To banish the darkness,
Trial blackness of night.
Thus we can run free,
Liberated, relaxed, unfettered
And not weary be.
Neither walk defeated,
Overwhelmed, beaten, crushed,
For in glory we’re seated,
Installed, located, cradled.

All is completed,
Above and beneath,
He is the wind under
My wings.

Soft Whispers from
Derry’s Heart Poems
© 2003 used with permission
heartwhispers@iinet.net.au

As Sheep to Slaughter

I follow like a witless sheep,
Led to the execution block;
I chased my future, found my grave,
And death has snatched me from the flock.

Some people think it foolishness
To grasp the cross without a sound,
They cannot comprehend the peace
Which far surpasses every wound—

I go not as a clueless sheep,
But like the Sacrificial Lamb,
I know that I can’t save myself,
But I am sure my Father can!

—Benjamin Graber

Thorns

How sharp it was—the thorn that pricked
The child’s tender palm,
Which grasped the rose she couldn’t help
But pluck for purest joy—

But a rose is never as sweet a rose as
When at the cost of thorns—

How deep the hurt—the thorns that pierced
A Savior’s sweated brow—
Who still for joy could not give up
The people that He loved—

But redemption would not be as deep and true
If the thorns bore Him no pain—

How harsh they sting—the fatal thorns
That prick our hearts and lives—
But how sweet the end, how sweet will be
The joy we know is there—

Upon a Journey’s End

Two roads to choose, but which is the way to go?
What will help to show the path that is the best to know?

Why turn only along a pretty way, when other adventure we can find?
If God made our world with such opposing force, where is the dividing line?

Does it matter where I journey, with my inquisitive feet?
Will I have wisdom to decide whatever stimuli I meet?

What is the storm, the dark, the evil for?
Such are the questions of life, behind every door.

The brightness of each day is that why we know of darkest night.
Do we experience all the contrast, to know that there is light?

If we never felt the cold, why would a coat be worn?
Should we feel the bitter wind, for the joy of being warm?

If we never felt the pangs of hunger, deep within our soul,
Could we find the satisfaction a delicious meal can hold?

If we didn’t endure pain and twisted grief within,
Would we desire freedom from the curse of gripping sin?

Is this the reason for the sharp or blunt, soiled or clean, the nice or mean ~
To make choices, every day, from all that we have seen?

Imagine how that facing death presses upon us the desire to live
And, if we all had everything, would there be joy to give?

If we were never lonely, why search then for a friend?
Where would be the pleasure, if the broken couldn’t mend?

If life on earth were all the same, could we learn to choose,
Or, as puppets on a string, would our thoughts be used?

This life we live can show us that contrasts make us seek
After things that last forever; where life will be complete.

Now, we can find the reason why the darkness we will shun.
Jesus broke it’s curse, for us, in the victory that He won.

God has wisely planned the struggle, so we decide the more;
If heaven, with eternal beauty, is all we’re yearning for.

Teardrops

You’ve fled from tears all of your life
You thought a great tsunami came,
But troubles come in gentle strokes,
The falling of a cleansing rain—
The tears bring water to your thirsty soul!

Yes, too much rain becomes a flood
Which drowns the weary vagabond;
But God’s controlling all the storms,
To make your gorge a swimming pond—
The tears give healing to a dying soul!

So trust in God, who brings the rain
To make your garden bloom and thrive,
Reviving deserts, washed through tears,
Who breaks your heart ’til you’re alive—
Who grants the tears to cleanse your dirty soul!

—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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