Men are born soft and supple;
dead, they are stiff and hard.
Plants are born tender and pliant;
dead, they are brittle and dry.
Thus, whoever is stiff and inflexible
is a disciple of death.
Whoever is soft and yielding
is a disciple of life.
The hard and stiff will be broken.
The soft and supple will prevail.
Lao Tzu, from Tao Te Ching, no. 76, translated by Stephen Mitchell
Great is the God
of my mother,
great is my
father’s God.
Honored and holy
be His ever
great name.
The Name
above all other
names, the
Lord of all lords,
God of gods,
the Great I AM
is His name.
Selah.
Sing His name in
the earth,
O ye saints,
sing it in the
heavens, ye angels.
Holy and praised
be His ever
great name.
Amen.
Michael James Fitzgerald
I don’t care about your weaknesses.
I have plenty of my own.
Let’s work on them together.
I don’t care about your sharp words.
They are open wounds that need
the gentle balm of sunlight.
I don’t care about your sins.
You know all of mine.
Why remember what heaven
promises to forget?
I only care about the
piercingly authentic,
perfectly imperfect,
tenderly affirming,
unassuming,
unadorned You.
Michael James Fitzgerald
"So close you can't see it. So subtle your mind can't understand it. So simple you can't believe it. So good you can't accept it." —Loch Kelly
Let me see
the world
you want
me to see
a world
where I don’t
spite myself
for trifles
or judge with
check stand
eyes
where all is
innocent hope
for the
unfailing
ministry
of snow.
Michael James Fitzgerald
"I tried an experiment this year. The only thing I decorated was my heart. No one can cancel that." —Anonymous
I waited for you
unblinkingly
by the side
of the road.
Spring, summer,
autumn, winter.
On a snowy afternoon,
you sent me
a stranger instead
with suffering tires
and eyes that
could shatter glass.
I dug in her trunk
for an elusive jack,
ruining my best suit,
the one I’d put on
for a different
occasion.
When she
drove happily off,
I looked up
and saw your face
smiling wryly
behind
thin clouds.
Michael James Fitzgerald
Adapted from the words of S. M. Lockeridge and Chuck Missler.
Our King is
the King of the Jews,
the King of Israel,
the King of righteousness
the King of all the ages,
the King of Heaven,
the King of Glory,
the King of Kings and
Lord of lords.
I wonder, do you know Him? Do you really?
He was a prophet before Moses,
a priest after Melchizedek,
a champion like Joshua,
an offering in the place of Isaac,
a king from the line of David,
a wise counselor above Solomon,
a beloved, rejected, exalted son like Joseph.
The heavens declare His glory,
and the firmament His handiwork,
He who is, who was, who always will be,
the First and the Last,
the Alpha and Omega,
the Aleph and the Tau,
the first fruits of them that slept,
the “I AM that I AM,”
the voice out of the burning bush.
He is the Captain of the Lord’s host,
He is the conqueror of Jericho,
He is enduringly strong,
He is entirely sincere,
He is eternally steadfast,
He is immortally graceful,
He is imperially powerful,
He is impartially merciful.
He is the greatest phenomenon to ever
cross the horizon of this world.
In Him dwells the fullness of the Godhead,
our Kinsman-Redeemer,
our Avenger of Blood,
our City of Refuge,
our eternal High Priest,
our perennial prophet,
our reigning King.
He’s the loftiest idea in literature,
He’s the fundamental doctrine of theology,
He’s the supreme problem in higher criticism!
He’s the Miracle of the Ages,
the superlative of everything good.
We are the beneficiaries of His love letter,
written in blood on a wooden cross,
erected in Judea 2,000 years ago.
No means can measure the limits
of His limitless love.
He was crucified on a cross of wood,
yet He made the hill on which is stood.
By Him were all things made that were made, and
without Him was not anything made that was made,
and by Him all things hold together.
What held Him to that cross?
It wasn’t the nails!
It was His love for you and me.
He was born of a woman
so we could be born of God.
He humbled Himself
below all things
so we could be lifted up.
He became a servant
so we could be heirs with Him.
He suffered rejection
so we could become His friends.
He denied Himself
so we could freely receive all things.
He gave Himself
so He could bless us in every way.
He’s available to all,
to the tempted and the tried,
He blesses the young,
He cleanses the lepers,
He defends the feeble,
He delivers the captives,
He discharges the debtors,
He forgives the sinners.
He franchises the meek,
He guards the besieged,
He heals the sick,
He provides strength to the weak,
He regards the aged,
He rewards the diligent,
He serves the unfortunate,
He sympathizes and
He reaches down to save.
His offices are manifold,
His reign is righteous,
His promises are sure,
His goodness is limitless,
His light is matchless,
His grace is sufficient,
His love never changes,
His mercy is everlasting,
His Word is more than enough,
His yoke is easy and His burden is light!
He’s indescribable,
He’s incomprehensible,
He’s irresistible, and
He’s invincible!
The heavens cannot contain Him
and man cannot explain Him,
The Pharisees couldn’t stand Him and
found they couldn’t stop Him.
Pilate couldn’t find fault with Him,
the witnesses couldn’t agree against Him.
Herod couldn’t kill him,
death couldn’t handle Him, and
the grave couldn’t hold him!
He has always been and always will be.
You can’t impeach Him and
He isn’t going to resign!
His name is above every name
and at the name of
Yeshua Mashiach
every knee shall bow and
every tongue confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord, who
reigns in power and glory,
forever and forever.
Amen and amen.
All images courtesy of Gospel Media © IRI.
I smell the smoke
of a burning world,
tremble at the
smoldering gate.
Under the gleam
of vengeance,
wounded fall beneath
red October’s
inescapable fire
while battle-hewn
warriors
pine for dawn, and
find hope in
morning’s
brilliant promise.
Michael James Fitzgerald
The clean, patient
mercy of summer
waits for the
stubborn tree
to surrender
a single leaf.
Wintry truth
chills the
season, but
sun-baked flowers
blush with
forgiveness.
Michael James Fitzgerald
