An Outstretched Hand Grace waits patiently for everyone like Charon beside the River Styx. But Grace requires no coinage for sin's payment has been nixed. The sound of a boulder's rumble, louder to the soul than deafening thunder, is the receipt for the cost of transgression, paid in full. It leaves even angels still in wonder at the depth of love that bears such a brutal toll. Grace holds her breath with an outstretched hand, the pinnacle choice of life for every man. Grace's hand is still open to you. Will you take it? Justin Farley
Metamorphosis A Poem About Butterflies and God's Grace Inching along the earth crunching, munching on misfortune until pain wrapped itself like a cocoon - a castle outside the rooms of a hardened heart. Drowning, surely dying in the dark. Only to emerge from the womb reborn from a tomb of self-inflicted wounds transformed by the Divine spark. With wings of vibrant color carrying the evidence of change arrayed like a roadmap dotted with places been and places going. Flapping with the wings of grace embraced by the breeze of blessing a chrysalis replaced, made anew by the Spirit's pressing. Justin Farley
Mistakes and Promises by Justin Farley
My mistakes are unlimited,
my promises are sometimes half-hearted and indifferent,
and my character can get thrown wherever desire moves me,
swayed like willow branches in the wind.
But when the waves of my sin pass,
guilt juts through my soul like shards of glass,
and I’m left to brood over these deep moral wounds
that I continually pick the scabs off of,
yet all the while praying they will heal.
The paradox of the heart is puzzling,
for the evidence is compelling
that man can’t even trust himself
and is a slave to his savage instincts –
often powerless to persuade the heart to righteous action.
So the ladder to heaven looms high –
A daunting force towering in the sky –
leaving these fractured bones aching
at the thought of making the climb
and conquering these demons we shamefully
find pleasing in our ears.
The baggage is too heavy to carry;
our errors are too large to bury,
but the good Lord in his omniscience
knew the battle was lost before it had begun.
In his mercy, he offered up his Son –
a cross where all our sins can be hung;
so we can stand victorious now and forevermore.
My mistakes are unlimited.
My promises are sometimes half-hearted and indifferent.
But the only promise I need is found in Christ,
who wipes my slate clean with each acquired debt
and gives me the grace to try again.
Poem Written by Justin Farley