Friday, 22 November 2013

I Turn to You


You make all things new.
You, of no shadow or turning.
From me I turn to you.

And you take my wayward, shifting heart
as though it were a precious vessel
as though it were your most valuable treasure.

And you draw me, reel me in
you, oh great fisherman of men,
while I fight the line, and toss and turn.

But you keep reeling.
Not giving up, never retreating
you keep beckoning

 until there is nothing in-between.


And under the weight of your love
my submission is invoked
until this world I am able to revoke, once again.

So take my heart, and make it your own
with no shadow or turning,
retreating or dis-owning.

As your own precious vessel
Your valuable treasure
Entirely, utterly yours alone.

You, who makes all things new
You, of no shadow or turning
Help me turn to you.


Ana Lisa de Jong
November 2013

Gold Coast, Australia
 
 
 

Monday, 11 November 2013

How He Loves Us


He loves us in the rose’s generous bloom,
Her petals laid full open to our view;
He loves us in the wind’s silent caress,
gentle breeze soft upon our cheek.

He loves us in the sky’s brilliant blue,
The promise of a new sunlit day;
He loves us in the sunsets gilt-edged hue,
as a tender token at end of play.

He loves us in the night-time sky,
each star signalling to us in silent entreat;
Of a love, which burns in His heart-sick heart, and
with each turn of the earth, never ceases to beat.

Passion restrained with a gentlemen’s honour,
He loves us far more than we can perceive:
His jealous attentions showered upon us,
and yet the fullness of his love we could never receive.

He loves you each day that you open your eyes,
His gift of life another chance for Him;
To woo you in a thousand ways,
until all you can do in response is come.

Come, to know your needs satisfied, and
on His altar have all your yearnings laid.
Come, to know your dreams fulfilled,
to walk with Him for the length of your days.

So come to Him as to the marriage bed.
He wants you heart, body and soul – nothing spared.
We are his Bride, and at his side he would have us stand,
so come to Him – he has ‘your’ place prepared.

He loves you in the rose’s generous bloom,
Her petals laid full open to your view;
He loves you in the wind’s silent caress,
gentle breeze soft upon your cheek.

He loves you in the sky’s brilliant blue,
the promise of a new sunlit day;
He loves you in the sunsets gilt-edged hue,
as a tender token at end of play.

He loves you in the night-time sky,
each star signalling to you in silent entreat;
of a love which burns in his heart-sick heart, and
with each turn of the earth, never ceases to beat.

Ana Lisa de Jong
November 2013

 

Tallow Beach, Byron Bay, Australia
 

Friday, 1 November 2013

Grace



If grace is indeed a river,
then it has no end;
except where it flows to the ocean,
where still more of it abounds.
 
Yet, why do I think of it as
something that can run out,
that can be exhausted
at the first real need?

That there is a limit
to its consumption?
That God is not as generous,
as His Holy Word decrees?

While to others,
He is rich in mercy.
His love and compassion
never-ending.

Like the distant horizon, extending…

into forever.

 

But for me.

For me, there is a limit
to his favour, to his love.
For if He truly understands,
then He can clearly see my heart.

And that is what I am afraid of.
For the love that he has given me,
has made me afraid of disappointing Him
because how can I ever achieve…

The holiness he requires of me
The righteousness to even come near.
The ability to lift my face,
hold his gaze, and be worthy.

Be worthy, of his kindness.
Be worthy of his love.
Be worthy of a river of reprieve,
let alone an ocean.

An ocean..

of never-ending GRACE.

 
Whoever has been forgiven little
loves little, his Holy word says.
I cannot fail you, or be forsaken by you.
Help me to understand.

It's in our need you meet us.
In our inadequacy, that you are enough.
Our faithlessness that you are true.
Our humanity that you came, our sin that you perished.

And the holiness He requires of me
was long ago achieved,
by the one whose heart of love for me
once hung upon a tree.

If grace is indeed a river,
then it has no end;
except where it flows to the ocean,
where still more of it abounds.

 

And your love and compassion never-ending
has never ended for me.
I can never be separated from you,
despite my unbelief.

For your favour and your love
does not depend on what I’ve done,
or the state of my heart.
But on what you’ve given.

What you have sacrificed
in tears of blood,
blood that has made it possible
for me to be good enough.

Lord, I stumble and I fall.
Your way is narrow, but it is life.
Help me to remember when I fall,
it’s into the river, the river of grace.

Whose streams
‘make glad the city of God,
in that holy place
where the most high dwells'.


And the river.
The ‘river of the water of life,
that flows from the throne of God’,
Which without …

Without, we’d be lost.

Ana Lisa de Jong
October 2013

Surfers Paradise Beach, Gold Coast, Australia