Tuesday, 19 March 2013

Limitless Hope


With the dawn of each new day
Hope comes; rising with the sun.
He longs that we be open to his touch;
Receptive to the one…
Who comes on sandaled feet
With mercies that are new;
A gift that has your name engraved
The gift of a day held out to you.


It is He that wakes and seeks you;
Asks you touch, taste and see
All He’s laid before you this day;
To come down on bended knee.


Slow down and let your burdens fall
Breathe and feel your heart rise up
Every breath a gift, every moment another chance;
For hope, for life.



With the dawn of each new day
Healing comes; heralded with the light.
It is His peace that soothes,
And strengthens us with His might…
To stand and greet the day
To open our eyes and behold
That each season has its blessings
Each cloud is lined with gold.

It is He that wakes and seeks you;
Bids you follow Him this, and every day.
Come in and fellowship with Him
He has stored blessings in your name.
The blessing of a future,
And a hope that doesn't fail;
A future assured of His presence,

That begins anew with every day.

Lisa de Jong


“See I am making all things new… I am the A and the Z – the beginning and the end.  I will give to the thirsty the springs of the water of life – as a gift!  Everyone who conquers will inherit all these blessings, and I will be his God and he will be my son (or daughter)”  Rev:5-7
 
Motuihe Island, Hauraki Gulf, New Zealand



Friday, 15 March 2013

Time


Time, in its relentless surge moves on
Pulling in its wake, our memories as the tide
Heavy, crashing on our hearts

Like it were yesterday
Then retreating with only the ache of loss
Remaining

Time - we can't catch up
Full-flight ahead, not fast enough
Touching only the tails of the wind
Left behind

By time's rush - to where
Where will it end, the gaining, and the losing
At the beginning, maybe
Like a circle, like the tide.

Lisa de Jong

Tawharanui Regional Park, New Zealand

What Moves You?

Is it only me - that is moved by the sounds of the sea
Or can hear a thousand sighs in the branches of a tree
Of winds that have been, of storms and sun-lit leaves.

I can feel the ocean breathing, if I close my eyes
The rhythm of the ocean has its echoes in my mind
The song soothes my soul, and its movement is my balm.

What do you feel with a hill and a view?
Do you look for wings locked deep inside you?
Do you ask a question, shed a tear, or make a poem...
Or do you just see an ocean?

I want you to see what I see
Of if not, for you to show me what you perceive
My journey isn't yours, and the source of our joy
Is both a lock between us, and a key...

Lisa de Jong


Waikawau Bay, Coromandel, New Zealand

Seasons

Seasons are valleys, and heights
Blossoms and ravines, roses and thorns
Life's river runs still, sometimes storm-shook.

Spring seems like a dream, in any other season
And Summer beyond reach in
The falling leaves of Autumn, with Winter in the breach.

Winter, cold dark passage - is there any other way?
Frozen river, frozen mountain, frozen heart to scale
Our hope in hibernation, and our faith failing.

Just as Summer never lasts, so Winter's cold must pass
Its not over yet - the coldest yet to come
But we've planted a seed in the midst of our suffering.

We won't know what it will be
Until the pale sun warms earth's crust
It could be patience, it could be faith, love or simply trust...

A trust in the seasons, that in the Summer we bloom
And in the Winter we sow
Without knowing so - the seeds of our joy.

Lisa de Jong


Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy.
Yes, they go out weeping, carrying seed for sowing
And return singing, carrying their sheaves.
Psalm 125:5-6


Wellington, New Zealand

To Remember

Open your eyes and the dream slips by
Too fast to grasp, until there's only now
Watch the sun rise in the Eastern sky
As the night is left where memories lie.

Forgetting, forgotten - the mind of man
The heights of knowledge cannot stand
Even a memory has to fade
In the rising dawn of a new day.

Our spirits know what our minds cannot fathom
Their memories aren't their own
Just like a voice, a song, a scene
Will draw our souls and take us home.

A place where the sun doesn't need to rise
And memories have no use
Where God is not a glimpse
And belief not something we choose.

For the dream is never lost
It's there again when we close our eyes
And to be born is only forgetting -
and to die is remembering why.

Lisa de Jong

Taylors Mistake, Christchurch, New Zealand
 

Thursday, 14 March 2013

God is in a Stone


God is often found in a book
But is not the source of Him
Sometimes the words are insufficient
And we are only left wanting…

Sometimes God is found in a storm
And sometimes in a brilliant blue sky
But often when we look, He’s not what we seek
And we turn and pass him by…

God is often in tears, when we expect him in joy
He doesn’t leave when we grieve,
Like a guest at the door…

He is in the pain and by trying to smile
Its Him we ignore.

He is there in our experience, perhaps not what we want,
But what we need,
And when our heart hurts,
Its deeper in He leads…

God is in a stone, as much as in a flower.
He is depth, as much as He is height.

We do not fail by limping or losing,
No, we gain a blessing in the night.

The value of pain doesn’t make joy less,
No joy is the crown and the prize
But joy is empty without the knowledge of what it cost,
Without pain to measure it by.

 
Lisa de Jong

Stony Bay, Coromandel, New Zealand
 

Surrounded by Love


Can we capture the love of God
As a smile is caught on camera?
Can we capture the light of God
As a moth is confined in a jam jar?


Can we capture the flood of his great mercy,
Or rein in the fullness of his grace?


No more than we can draw boundary lines around an ocean
Or stop a river in full pace.



As healing water he rushes over us
Only to then run out through our hands.
As the last sun’s rays on a summer’s day
His warmth is too fleeting to contain.


But his mercies are new every morning
His boundless love it knows no end;


He who is thirsty will be satisfied
He who is hungry need not hunger again.



What can be held can be measured,
Its height and circumference known.
God is love but he is mystery
A power that we cannot fully comprehend.


We long for him and he comes
‘As surely as the coming of dawn or the rain of early spring’;

But our human hearts are too imperfect to hold him
Our feelings too human to discern the divine.



Can we capture the love of God?
Can we contain him in all his might?
No, but he has promised to bind us to him,
Betrothed with chains of righteousness held tight.


Can we capture the light of God?
Can we bask forever under his warm rays?


No, but weeping may go on for a night
And joy is as sure as the coming of the new day.



We cannot hold him; but still close to him we are held.
We cannot love him as he deserves, but it was he who loved us first.

We cannot chain him in, but in chains of love we are bound.


We cannot bind the infinite God, but it is us that He surrounds.

Lisa de Jong


Mangawhai Heads, New Zealand


 

The Garden


You are my private garden, my treasure, my bride.
Song of Solomon 4:12


“My husbandman, welcome to your garden
Come, walk with me here
There are roses but there are thorns
I lay my soul to you bare.

My husbandman, take my hand
Let me lead you , let me show you around
May you delight in the rich perfume
Just please don’t look at the ground.

Let me show you the colours
And all the fruits from this tree
Oh surely its bursting with goodness
loaded abundantly.

Its just that over here Lord
I can’t seem to get it to grow
But I’m sure it doesn’t matter
There is so much beauty still.

Come and see these flowers Lord
They’re just nearby
See how many have flourished
They must be pleasing to your eye.

Why do you look back Lord?
Its just a spot on the ground.
So easy to disguise
With all the plentiful growth around”.

 
“My daughter, I am your husbandman
To me its safe to lay your heart bare
I am here for this reason
For the soil that is here…


Its needing my touch
Its needing you to see
That soil is the lifeblood of the garden
and it must be filled with me.


The Jesus whom you worship
Who gave his life for you;
His blood poured out on the ground
He feeds and waters you still.

This part you’ve hid away
Averted your eyes, and mine
Will slowly spread its barrenness
Unless you turn it over to Him.

There can be nothing in the garden
That separates you from me
Open your heart to my ministrations
Let me take back what you gave away.

Let me till the hardened soil
And pull out the imposter weeds
It will only hurt for a little while
But won’t we rejoice to see…

The garden as it was before
Full of growth and life
Before you hid this part from my view
and shielded it from the light.

The garden as it should be
Because you were designed to be;
As a treasure bought at a great cost,
A gift worthy of me”.

Lisa de Jong

 

 

Arms of Grace


 
I think of you saviour
With arms unfurled
Nails driven deep
In hands holding the world.

I think of you saviour
A spear in your side
Wounded for our transgressions
Your life ebbing as the tide.

Fingers curled in pain
Tears of blood on the ground
Light of the world snuffed out
with hardly a sound.

I think of you Saviour
Scars borne for me
A life exchanged for life
Captive to set me free.

I think of you saviour
Embracing us on that cross
Your arms outstretched
To draw close to you the lost.

As we couldn’t save ourselves
You took it on yourself
Never let me forget saviour
The cup of sacrifice.

I think of you Lord Jesus
Seated at God’s right hand
The veil torn in two
The victory obtained.

I think of you Lord Jesus
what your pain achieved for me
to worship you forever
to fall down on bended knee.

Only to have you lift my chin, and
Put your scarred hands in mine
Embrace me with your arms of grace
Enfold me in eternal life.


Lisa de Jong

Christchurch, New Zealand