I.Beside the road, browning in the breeze,Are th’unadorned and corpselike Christmas trees.Their severed stumps pine for forsaken sod,The rootless forest for a promised Rod. Dangling
Would the Light of the World have liked light-up shoes?Or eagerly volunteered to switch on the tree?Or struggled not to wiggle when asked to stand
This weekend, I had the privilege of attending the Maranatha Christian Writers’ Conference. Perhaps the most invigorating part of this experience was swapping book recommendations.
Do you look upon me as an unused pen Or an instrument prepared and poised to write The words and works that speak of such
I say to you: do not pull up the weeds. If you begin, it is a lifelong taskAs with each stem and bud you find