50 years - A Memorial Poem

I originally wrote this poem in Spanish around the 30th anniversary of my mother’s death. I post it here along with a translation on the 50th anniversary. (The original title was Hace treinta años - Thirty Years Ago.)

Hace muchos años                                             Many Years Ago

Amaneció el nuevo día                                       The new day dawned

así como siempre hacía                                      as it always did

en noviembre; aquél día,                                    in November; that day

cuando de cáncer sufría.                                     when from cancer she suffered.

Hace muchos años.                                              Many years ago.

En el hospital estaba,                                          She was in the hospital,

lejos de sus hijos se iba.                                      she was going far away from her children.

Cerca, su esposo rogaba                                     Nearby, her husband was praying,

--Dios, ¡permite que ella viva!--                        “Oh God, let her live!”

Hace muchos años.                                              Many years ago.

Hace muchos años                                                Many years ago

la mujer murió.                                                    the woman died.

De cuatro hijos la madre                                   From her four children the mother

se despidió;                                                          took her leave;

Hace muchos años.                                               Many years ago.

Siete años solo tenía,                                          He was only seven years old,

el hijo menor aquél día.                                     the youngest son that day.

Casi no la conocía,                                              He hardly knew her,

quien de él se despedía;                                      who was leaving him.

Hace muchos años.                                             Many years ago.

Estaba él en la iglesia,                                       He was in church,

se le dijo la noticia.                                            when he heard the news.

Todo lo confundía.                                             It was all confusing to him.

Estaba mejor, creía.                                           She was better, he believed.

Iba a vivir, se decía.                                           She was going to live, he was told.

¿Cómo morirse podía?                                      How could she die?

Hace muchos años.                                            Many years ago.

Hace muchos años                                             Many years ago

mi madre murió.                                                my mother died.

De mis hermanos y yo                                       From my siblings and me,

mi madre se despidió;                                       she said good-bye.

Hace muchos años.                                            Many years ago.

PSL 1994                                                           Translation 2014

To post or not to post...

...that is the question.
Whether ’tis worthwhile to write, (hoping someone will read)
Or leave things unsaid that no one will see.

There are times when I have time, and times that I don’t;
I just wish that when I have the time, I had something to say;
Instead of thinking of something to say when I have no time.

My dad always said, “The dullest pencil is better than the sharpest mind.”
I know he was right, as I cannot remember what to say if I don’t write right away.

So the purpose of this post is only to say,
“I have the time, but cannot think of something someone else has not said.”

Stay tuned.  Exams are coming up at school and I’ll have plenty of time to write after that.

(My apologies to the Shakespeare lovers out there.)

His Love

I guess I couldn't find the time for another post the last two days. At any rate, here is the second installment on the Love of God.

Another favorite song of mine that speaks volumes about God's love is called "His Love", but it is not a hymn. It was written about twenty years ago by a preacher named Mark Webb. I cannot seem to find an Internet site that he used to have with his music, so I cannot link to the song. But the lyrics are what caught my attention the first time I heard this song.

Oh the wonder of wonders, that God should love me!
Love a sinner so guilty, so vile and unclean.
To love the unlovely, how can it be done?
'Tis only in Jesus, in His blessed Son.

Long before I ever knew Him, my Lord first knew me.
Before I ever sought Him, my Lord first sought me.
When I was in darkness, His sworn enemy,
He purchased my pardon, on Calvary's tree!

Chorus:
His Love is a mountain, that I cannot scale.
As wide as an ocean, that I cannot sail.
I'll never lay hold of, my mind fully see.
This love that in mercy, first laid hold of me.

Not that I first did choose Him, for that could not be.
Still this heart would refuse Him, had He left it to me!
I'd still fight that battle, that no man can win.
I'd still bar the heart's door, that letteth Him in.

Such richness in a few short verses, and more truth than in many modern songs. We can never attain the salvation on our own merits, and we will never be worthy of God's redeeming love without the blood shed on Calvary. "This is the love of God, that when we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" says Paul in Romans. Any child in Sunday school memorizes that verse, but oh, to really know it in our heart!

The Love of God

This Saturday, the world celebrates Valentine's Day, in which we all give little trinkets to someone we "love", whether it be school children sharing tacky cards with drawings of Cupid and red so-called "hearts" or adults buying chocolates and roses for their beloved. But is this really what love is? Where did it originate?

God.

We are told in the Epistle of First John "God is love" (1 John 4:8) The Bible tells us many ways in which God expresses his love to us, which you can find if you do a search of the scripture. (A good start would be at Bible Gateway.) Then, many hymn writers and other Christian musicians have penned words which express that love as well. This week, I will attempt to post my thoughts on several of those.

One of my favorite hymns is "The Love of God", which was found written on the wall of an cell at an insane asylum in the early 1900s. The author obviously has all his senses when he wrote it, or else he was inspired by God at the time.

Here are the words:

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.

Refrain

O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.

When years of time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men, who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

Refrain

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

Refrain


The first two verses define the love of God in as good a way as any definition ever penned outside of scripture. Cyber Hymnal says the last verse is a translation of a 1050 A.D. Jewish poem. I love that verse. Once, I was driving through Iowa on a sunny summer day. The corn was tall and abundant, and the sky stretched out as far as the eye could see. I was reminded of this hymn, thinking of how much writing one could do on such a huge page. Then I though of all the water on earth -- 75% of the surface of the planet! That is a lot of ink!

Oh the wonder of the love of God!

Poem: A Testimony

Note: This poem is based on a vivid dream that I had back in the 80s shortly before my conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Walking on Sand

1
Sand.
A mountain of sand.
I was walking on a mountain of sand.
I thought, "The sand is firm.
I will walk on
this sand."

While climbing a dune
I thought that though
the sand was firm,
it was also soft to the feet;
It was easy to walk on
the sand.

Suddenly, a hole opened

in the sand.
I fell,
I slid,
I was surrounded
by sand.
I didn't know where up was,
I didn't know where down was.
I couldn't breath
because of
the sand.

I swam.
I tried to swim in the sea
of sand.
The more I swam,
the more I sank.
I couldn't get out of
the sand.

I tried to scream.
But I couldn't.
When I opened my mouth,
it filled with sand.
I was drowning in
the sand.

2
I awoke.
It was a dream.
I had dreamed that
I was drowning in a sea of sand.
But, thought I, it was so real.
I could actually feel
myself being drowned by
the sand.

I thought
"What does this mean?
Why is it so real?
And why did I dream
about sand?"

I couldn't sleep.
I could only think
of the dream
about drowning in
the sand.

Finally I realized
what the dream meant.
All my life I did
what I wanted;
what I thought was right.
I did my own thing.
It was as if
I were building a castle
on sand.

3
In a Book, I have read
of a man who built
his house on the sand.
The foundation was shaky.
A storm came,
with its winds and waves,
and destroyed the house on the sand.
That was my life:
A life built on
the sand.

In that Book,
the One telling the story said,
"He who hears my words
and does them not,
is like the foolish man
who built his house on
the sand."

I had heard that story.
I was living that story.
My actions and thoughts,
both good and bad,
were each a grain
in the sea
of sand.

But the Book tells more.
The One telling the story
told of the wise man
who hears the words
of Him who spoke
and does them.
This is the one
who built his house on
the Rock.
The storm came,
with its winds and waves,
and could not destroy it,
because it was built on
the Rock.

I had heard that story.
But I wasn't living like that.
My life wasn't built on
the Rock.

4
I knew that to build on the Rock,
I needed to change.
But how does one change?
Can one change by doing good
instead of bad?

No, learned I.
One cannot change from
good to bad
any more than a bad tree
can grow good fruit.
One can only be made good
by trusting in Him who said
"I am the Way,
the Truth,
and the Life."
This is how to build
a house on
the Rock.

5
If one bases his life
on the true words
which are found only in
the Book which I have mentioned,
he will live a life of peace.
The storms of life will come,
with their winds and waves,
and his life will stand,
because it will be built on
the Rock.

If one does not base his life
on these words,
his life will be built on the sand.
The storms and trials
of life will come,
with their winds and waves,
and his life will not stand,
because it will not have
a foundation.
It will not be built on
the Rock.

PSL 1997

Fading Joys, Heavenly Longings

Today, I begin comments on various hymns I enjoy both for their depth of thought and musical beauty. First up is one by Jane C. Bonar:

Fade, Fade each Earthly Joy

(To here the hymn, click on the title.)

Fade, fade, each earthly joy, Jesus is mine!
Break every tender tie, Jesus is mine!
Dark is the wilderness, Earth has no resting place,
Jesus alone can bless, Jesus is mine!

Tempt not my soul away, Jesus is mine!
Here would I ever stay, Jesus is mine!
Perishing things of clay, born but for one brief day,
Pass from my heart away, Jesus is mine!

Farewell, ye dreams of night, Jesus is mine!
Lost in this dawning bright, Jesus is mine!
All that my soul has tried left but a dismal void;
Jesus has satisfied, Jesus is mine!

Farewell, mortality, Jesus is mine!
Welcome, eternity, Jesus is mine!
Welcome, oh, loved and blest, welcome sweet scenes of rest,
Welcome, my Savior’s breast, Jesus is mine!

Yesterday we sang this hymn at church, which sparked a discussion on whether it is about a recent convert or an older saint. In many ways it is both. The first verse tells of breaking ties and how dark is the world to the Christian. This can be a new believer rejoicing in his new-found life, or an old saint looking back over his life, ready to break the earthly ties and go to meet his Lord.

Verses 2-4 are clearer in showing the thoughts of an elderly saint longing to leave this body of flesh behind and move on the higher and better things.

I see this hymn as a sort of New Testament version of Ecclesiastes. In that Old Testament book, the aged Solomon looks back with regret on how he ruined his life with sinful pursuits, that all he did was vanity and waste. This hymn is more of a aged or dying saint looking back on the earthly life, not with regret, but joy that his godly life is leading him to a heavenly eternity. And, like Paul the Apostle in Philippians 1, he cannot wait any longer to “absent from the body and be present with the Lord.”

It’s Spring!

The weather outside has finally warmed up. I mowed the lawn for the first time this week. As I mowed, I praised God for the beauty of creation. We have a lot of what most would call weeds in our yard. I have never understood the idea of spraying the grass to keep the weeds away, when the flowers of the weeds add such color to the grass. We have white and purple violets here at 3rd and College, along with another purple flower I cannot identify (botany never was my forte) and the yellow of dandelions. While the latter is a pest when it goes to seed, it does offer a pretty contrast to the green grass. Most of these flowers are ground huggers, so I set the lawn mower a little higher and cut over them (I also waited too long this year, so all the rain caused the lawn to be six inches tall in places, too high for the usual setting).

At any rate, here is a little poem I wrote last spring for you reading pleasure.

In Spring birds sing.
Rain falls; love calls.
Trees green; young men preen.
Sky is blue; love is true.

Farmers plant; birds can’t.
Robins seek, worm in beak.
Rivers roar; geese soar.
Spring is sprung; new life’s begun.

(PSL Apr. 4, 2007)