Monday, 30 September 2013

Love Knocks

Love knocks on my door.
He stands near on soundless feet,
although I hardly know he is there.
Yet it’s in my solitude that he accompanies me;
In my loneliness he keeps vigil;

Of all my doubts, and fears and struggles, he is aware.

Love knocks so quietly,
waits so patiently,
I almost miss the insistent tone.
Until the echoes reverberate around my empty heart;
My ears prick to an unworldly sound;
And I am drawn to him as to a siren’s song.

Love stands waiting.
While I look for Him in other places,
looking for a love that cannot satisfy.

Not knowing joy was mine for the taking.
Not knowing it was His love I was lacking;
Not knowing, until the door I finally open.

Love stands smiling.
No sin too large to dissuade him,
No temptation too great to supersede him.
My love simply stands for me;
blessings at his feet won for me.
Joy and peace; contentment, freedom.

How can I refuse him?

Ana Lisa de Jong

'And having chosen us, he called us to come to Him; and when we came he declared us "not guilty", filled us with Christ's goodness, gave us right standing with himself, and promised us his glory.' Romans 8:30

"Love means setting aside walls, fences, and unlocking doors, and saying yes..."

"Where is the dwelling of God?"  This was the question which the Rabbi of Kotak surprised a number of learned men who happened to be visiting him.  They laughed at him; "what a thing to ask! Is not the whole world full of his glory?!  Then he answered his own question, "God dwells whereever man lets him in."
From Tales of Hasidim
Stony Bay, Coromandel, New Zealand

Wednesday, 18 September 2013


Break me down
Break me down
with my tears anoint me.
My pain, let it be the breaking of my will
that leads to the restoration

of my soul.

Your righteousness

Let it be as a robe.
For my tarnished soul, and
faithless heart
cannot face the world,
until I’m clothed in you

and know my true worth.

Lay me down
Lay me down
low enough to unburden
and lose the weight of my sin.
And lay upon your altar my confession, my repentance

as a holy offering.

Every day every day
I’m aware of how I fail you.
Every day every day
I’m aware of how you love me.
Every day I must lay, lay it all down

and you sift through it all, and you shake off the dust

and you replace my crown.

Ana Lisa de Jong

Mangawhai Heads, New Zealand

Thursday, 12 September 2013

Brother, Sister

If you could hear my prayers.
If you could know my heart.
If I could hear your prayers
and know your heart.

Would we meet somewhere,
and build a bridge to span the gulf that separates?

If words were found
to clothe our naked pain;
and if our tears could speak
of internal battles, lost and won.

Would we appreciate?
Would we finally understand—to our shame.

If our future hopes
were painted as a picture,
through which God’s will
were evidently seen.

Would we see our similarities were greater than our differences?
Would we see that together we share a common dream?

Look into the mirror of each other’s hearts.
What you see there simply an image of your own.
Do not look for fault,
or be too quick to condemn.

It’s in a glass house that you throw these stones.

A house of glass can’t stand
too many hits.
We forget whose house we claim to be.
Peacemakers, promised to the precious cornerstone...

but who would blindly bring the building to its knees.

Trust Him with your grievances,
and your broken hopes.
He is strong enough to weather any storm.
But your brother and sister is your keeper.

We turn on one another at our peril.
We turn on ourselves when we condemn.

We will always find what we look for.
So look for what is good, and true and right;
and the light that shines in the darkness,
will not by this present darkness be put out.

Brother, Sister.

Will you hear my earnest prayer?
And come to know how tender is my heart.
I will hear your prayer,
and seek to know you also…

and together we may turn the page
to a whole start.

Ana Lisa de Jong

Tutukaka, Northland, New Zealand

Friday, 6 September 2013

Your Table

You invite me to your table every day.

I, drawn by the world, would rather gather crumbs
from the floor;
than come and sit
and know your gaze,
and the blessings you have stored.

Drawn for me from your storehouse
in heaven.
And laid with love on my plate
at the place
prepared for me since time began
and which, for me, you will sit, and wait.

And the invitation doesn't lapse.
The meal, it doesn't grow cold.
Though I, drawn by the world,
and my hearts vagaries, and focus on life's ills,
hardly know, what is good.

Yet today I see you waiting,
and today I feel your smile -
and I fall in love a little more
as you draw me, and restore me;
until I can climb up from the floor.

Insistently you draw me,
until boldly I  can come.
Face raised towards you,
tears of gratitude falling,
as an anointing on your skin.

Lovingly you call me,
until its you I can't ignore.
And as I fall into your arms,
from this vantage I can see
what has been laid before me all along.

You invite me to your table
every day.
Whether I come is up to me.
Whether I do, or whether I don't
you simply wait.

And you call....

Ana Lisa de Jong  

Going in she knelt before him at his feet, weeping, with her tears falling down upon his feet; and she wiped them off with her hair and kissed them and poured the perfume on them”.
Luke 7:38

Postscript:  Not long after writing this poem I opened an email from 'Streams in the Dessert' which follows below:

In The Heavenly Places

"But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ . . . and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 2:4-6).

This is our rightful place, to be "seated in heavenly places in Christ Jesus," and to "sit still" there. But how few there are who make it their actual experience! How few, indeed think even that it is possible for them to "sit still" in these "heavenly places" in the everyday life of a world so full of turmoil as this. We may believe perhaps that to pay a little visit to these heavenly places on Sundays, or now and then in times of spiritual exaltation, may be within the range of possibility; but to be actually "seated" there every day and all day long is altogether another matter; and yet it is very plain that it is for Sundays and week-days as well.
By L.B. Cowman