Poem about Wrestling with God and Accepting God’s Will

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Tug O’ War

Engaged in a constant game
of tug o’ war between your will and mine.
Sweating out the hours.
Eking out the days,
muscles bulging in desperate exhaustion,
clinging to dust.

Why do I wrestle with you?
Why does my foolish heart
still insist it knows better
despite a lifelong record of defeat?

Because I’m a sinner,
flawed at the deepest depths of my core.
But despite my imperfection
you lovingly continue to play the game
even though you could pull my will
right out of my hands at any moment you choose.

And yet you don’t let go of the rope either.
You patiently keep tugging at my heart
until the day I willingly choose
to let go of my will
and take a hold of yours.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley

Everyday Miracles – A Poem About Finding God in Ordinary Things

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Everyday Miracles – A Poem About Finding God in Ordinary Things

The clamor of your wisdom claps
like a thousand hands in unison throughout the forest,
calling from every treetop,
and whispering within every breath the north wind blows.
Your wisdom can be found in the simplicity of a dew drop
and within the caw of a congregation of crows.

You are an invisible hand, always laboring,
opening and closing doors as you see fit –
not always on my time frame,
not always giving me access to the rooms I wish,
but often times I find ignorance is bliss.
For the paths I most yearn to walk down
you wall off, knowing they lead to my demise.

You are the wise King,
always leading, but serving unceasingly.
With each new day you bring,
I am astonished at your beauty –
as long as I make the time to open my eyes,
as long as my awareness is focused on you
and turned away from the desires of my mind.

Your miracles come in small packages,
constantly sent, but rarely opened.
I look for you in grandiose experiences,
but you keep gently tugging at my sleeve,
urging me to put on my leather gloves
and dig for you in the dirt of the garden.

If I’m not careful,
I can become oblivious to the everyday mystery –
the beauty of a daffodil,
the way sunlight rests upon my windowsill,
the spirit that speaks when my mind gets still,
and the non-coincidental meetings of strangers,
sharing the exact conversations I need to hear.

Open my eyes when they are blind to your majesty,
so that I may witness your glory
in every root, rock, river, and ravine.
May I read the love letters you’ve written
upon every stump I pass in the forest,
every deer that crosses my path,
and every squirrel that leaps from limb to limb.
May I marvel at your everyday miracles
and find your fingerprints upon every piece of evidence
in this case called life.

-Poem Written by Justin Farley


 

photo credit: Ontelaunee Creek Tributary (1) via photopin (license)

Narcissus and God – A Poem

painting of Narcissus by Italian painter Caravaggio

My feelings for you swing like a pendulum,
driven by the forces of gravity;
pulled back down by life’s realities
and the weather during these ever-changing seasons of my life.
I have hated you.
I have loved you.
I have sought you and found nothing but empty space.
I have sought you and found the beauty of your face.
I’ve lacked even the desire to seek, scared at what I’d find.
I’ve hoped you never existed,
so I was free to play with the pleasures of my mind.
But now, oh Lord, I have you, and you are mine.

Though between us still sits a boulder
on this road that you lead me down
that blocks my vision of you and drives me off-courseĀ of your level ground.
It is a heart surging, bleeding
with self-righteousness, selfishness, and self-seeking.
Dismiss it to the gallows!
String it up by a noose, and may your grip
let the iniquity drip away.
For though I love you, my deepest desire is still not your heart
but my own.
Do not drive me mad by Echo’s song,
singing of my guilt and my wrongs;
mute my ears and turn my eyes to you.

I desire you, but am unsure of how to still these narcissistic tendencies –
they’re all I’ve ever know since birth.
I’ll never be able to kill
this desire to lie down beside the pool of pride
and bask in the beauty of my own reflection.
But surely you have the power to make the waters change their shape.
May the ripples subside, divide, and instead of mine,
may I see your face.

Poem Written by Justin Farley


Image a painting by Italian painter Caravaggio 1597-1599