This poem is a somber reminder of trading off spiritual and eternal hope for temporary, worldly pleasures. I use the first-person singular, but hope to avoid being in the number.

Three stanzas use iambic pentameter with an ABBA rhyme scheme, a bit different from my usual.

The first stanza goes like this: Continue reading

* My flight departs Sunday night, arriving in Nashville Monday morning, Lord willing. You’ll see less of me on the Internet since we will be traveling extensively.

* The Firstborn celebrates his birthday today. He’s now a -niner. God bless him to serve powerfully.

* Having written two devotionals recently on power, this line caught my eye: “The reward of power is not for the timid.” How true! Continue reading

GreatnessSteve Jobs, the head of Apple, Inc., has died. He created electronic devices for communication and the Internet. While still young, he said he wanted to make a dent in the universe. In terms of eternity, however, he did nothing compared to the least in the kingdom of God.

Sow righteousness for yourselves,
reap unfailing love.
Break up the unplowed ground for yourselves,
for it is time to seek the LORD,
until he comes and showers deliverance on you.
Hosea 10:12 NET Continue reading

do the will of God

The phrase “durable goods” is a laugh. Ask the Japanese, after the earthquake and tsunami, how durable their goods were.

We seek the eternal. We try to invest in the ephemeral the quality of the permanent. We deceive ourselves to think that we possess in the world what will endure.

And the world is passing away with all its desires, but the person who does the will of God remains forever.
1 John 2:17 NET Continue reading

OK, Laura, I took the challenge. One poem a day during Poetry Month. It may wind up being a quatrain or a couplet, and I may get them under the wire, just before the day ends, but here goes: 30 poems in 30 days.

by J. Randal Matheny © 2011

The young make plans for great success,
Their hearts awash in high ideals;
The old make do with less and less,
Untimely death close on their heels.

The middle ages toil for dreams,
Before they fade, escape their reach;
Hard work and progress their twin themes,
Given to action more than speech.

To one the future, another the past,
To yet a third, the present day:
All ominous signs that none can last,
The eternal tide will sweep away.