Category: Christian non-fiction
-
In His Image
You sit there waiting in the street – Your eyes so sad and tried. They hope to catch a softened heart, As they grab passersby. ~ You wonder if you’re ever loved By someone long enough, Or if you must leave this home too. So you act bad and tough.…
-
Bathing in Grace
How could my sick heart fathom The love you pour out Each moment I am breathing In fears and out doubt. Teach my soul to be silent – To know Your sweet grace. Teach my heart to be open To You lift my gaze. Help my heart hear the sweet…
-
His Constant Presence
This morning, I was walking and praying on my usual route through the woods. Among many other prayers, I have been asking God to bless me with more knowledge of His presence. I asked Him to open my eyes to the things He wants me to see. As I was…
-
In Your Presence
(After a walk this morning, I took some time and sat beside the lake. This prayer stirred in my heart and soul … ) In Your Presence Stillness Comfort Peace In Your Presence Wisdom Knowledge Discernment In Your Presence Contentment Fulfillment Gratefulness In Your Presence Detail Intricacy Intimacy In Your…
-
Please, Rock the Boat!
Twenty months ago, I could not have imagined the outcome of a simple but heartfelt prayer. I had been desperately aware of a need for revival in and around me. I started to pray regularly, pleading with God to do the work. At first, it felt as if God had…
-
Whose House?
This is my house, yet still not mine. My heir will own it for a while. And soon the third comes to reside, Then when he’s done, gets dragged outside. The fourth and fifth, too, don’t stay long. Tell me, to Whom does it belong? (I adapted this poem…
-
Looking for Steeples
The view from the window seat of the small plane was perfect, not only to look onto the beautiful countryside, but also for hiding my tear-filled eyes. I prayed silently for God to comfort my aching heart. Woods and fields, similar to the ones I had walked for the past…
-
Of Stones and Memories
Today, I gathered stones from the middle of the stream. Just like with my memories, I choose the ones I keep. Just like with these stones, The harsh edges of my memories soften With life’s constant changes. Changes wash over me Like the flowing creek, Which hones the path of…
-
Wheat and Tares
The ripened heads of wheat bend low With seeds that will not spoil. They know their Maker who did sow Them into prepared soil. Among the wheat the tares grow high – Their prideful stalks not bending, Stretch fruitless bodies to the sky, Not knowing all’s soon ending. Before long…
Heidi Viars 