From Where I Sit 8-3-12

Up on the high majestic hill,

stands one great mighty oak,

that seems to mimic something else -

a world of prideful folk.

Some think that sin is not so bad,

they think it's overblown -

but I can feel that screaming wind

from Satan's megaphone.

Oh, we all know man's clanging wars -

his taxed and tortured slaves -

his used, abused or beaten spouse -

the sinful life he paves -

that plows up God's great symphony

with Adam's clumsy ox -

and pummels us with angry words

or painful, sinful rocks.

But God's created orchestra -

all people, black and white -

all babies born (or soon to be)

and elders have a right -

a right to live on God's great earth

in peace and harmony.

But pride seeks greater powers and

rejects humility.

From where I sit, I always see

His beauty deep within,

His loving, graceful handiwork -

though plundered so, with sin.

God's handiwork from birds to fish

and mammals great and small -

still bless me with their beauty here.

I see His work in all.

And when I think my Loving God,

has nothing more to give -

He pours out love in greater grace,

so ready to forgive -

where even I, through heavy heart,

so tearfully repent -

and seek that perfect sacrifice,

who God already sent.

A rhythm rolls with springtime breeze

across this valley pass -

right over meadow here below

and through His humble grass.

In unison, harmonic notes

from orchestra below -

still wave to those on mighty hill,

to folks who need to know...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Precious Time 7-24-12

(from a woman's perspective )

So handsome is my smiling man.
I find him quite a guy.
The months and years begin to roll
as precious time slips by...

I try to build that perfect life.
No matter how I try,
I learn this is no perfect world
as precious time slips by...

So beautiful, the Heavens are,
that share the starry sky.
I search for many answers there
as precious time slips by...

But winds contour the heated sands.
My words grow faint and dry.
The sand runs through my fingers too
as precious time slips by...

And frigid is the northwest front.
My tears freeze when I cry.
It finds me blind and unprepared
as precious time slips by...

So wonderful, that smiling man -
but years, we could not buy.
Though handsome as the day we met,
our precious time slipped by...

And now my loved one passed away.
Through tears I say, "Good bye"
but cling to pride and humble not,
as precious time slips by...

Yet patiently, my Lord still knocks.
His love, the reason why.
Will I ignore or answer Him?
My precious time slips by...

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Just Another Angel 7-23-12

(based on a true story this morning, Monday, July 23, 2012.  The pastor is 91)

His wife and son were in the store.

He shuffled past me twice.

My eyes were red.  I hid my face.

I wanted no advice.

He must have sensed my emptiness

as I was feeling low -

because he sat down next to me.

I had nowhere to go.

We both were thinking our own thoughts

and neither said a word -

until his son walked up to us

and this is what I heard...

"My dad was once a pastor -

and had been several years.

He helped so many countless souls

and quenched their many fears."

Just then his wife came up to him

and said, "I'm ready now."

It had an impact over me.

Right then, I knew not how.

The pastor said some simple words

as he stood up to leave.

He simply said, "God loves you and

He wants you to believe."

He turned, began to walk away,

so I said, "Thank you much."

At that, he smiled and said goodbye.

I felt a loving touch.

A touch that cannot be described

in just a word or two -

but cures the lowest, broken heart

when it hears, "God loves you."

Was this a pure coincidence?

Were these words meant to be,

from just another angel sent,

from God, to earth - for me?

©2012 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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When We Don't Talk 7-13-12

I know that you get busy with the things that have to be,

but oh, if you could put yourselves in my shoes so you'd see...

a world imploding inward and- that leaves me high and dry,

a world that's ever-changing and- still makes me hurt and cry.

Again, another tune is heard. Another text arrives.

You're tuning out the real world, ignoring real lives.

Oblivious to what's around, engrossed inside your games,

you wouldn't really know it if your house was up in flames.

Bad habits, you're addicted to- on games of every kind,

on tunes and 'apps' that master you- control and seize your mind.

You're focused on your chat or text- and yes, that's really why

you cannot hear the words I speak or look me in the eye.

There's many little gadgets in, your world of make-believe.

They hold your full attention in, that world so hard to leave.

But one day you will not escape. Temptation's underneath,

where it conceives great weeping and- the gnashing too, of teeth.

I do not need those gadgets there, but oh, I love to hear

your "please's" and your "thank you's" as- you pray from year to year.

My pain was most unbearable when I was crucified,

so don't forget to talk to Me and set your world aside.

---

Yes, pain is quite unbearable, when children do not call.

They think our conversations are, most trivial and small.

This poem is about a world that will grow gravely grim -

and now we know, how Jesus feels- when we don't talk to Him...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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1 Thessalonians 5: 12-22 (NASB)

12 But we request of you, brethren, that you appreciate those who diligently labor among you,

and have charge over you in the Lord and give you instruction,

13 and that you esteem them very highly in love because of their work.

Live in peace with one another.

14 We urge you, brethren, admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted,

help the weak, be patient with everyone.

15 See that no one repays another with evil for evil,

but always seek after that which is good for one another and for all people.

16 Rejoice always;

17 pray without ceasing;

18 in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

19 Do not quench the Spirit; 20 do not despise prophetic utterances.

21 But examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good;

22 abstain from every form of evil.

Chasing Dreams 7-9-12

I ran through life - got thrown off-guard -
and stumbled over dreams so hard.
With future bright and never dim -
if only I had followed Him.

Yet Christ is found among the crowds
and penetrates my darkest clouds.
Though marred in sin as black as coal,
He lifted me, my wicked soul.

His endless love flows as the breeze,
He holds secure with cradled ease.
He rocks us close on clouds aloft,
with loving grace in arms so soft.

Yet we still choose to trip and fall,
oh, how we think we know it all -
and then complain when we get hurt.
But Christ can lift us from the dirt...

Do I still choose to chase my dreams?
So busy are these times, it seems.
Did I repent? I knew I ought -
but time I had - or so I thought...

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Luke 13 (NASB)

1 Now on the same occasion there were some present who reported to Him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. 2 And Jesus said to them, “ Do you suppose that these Galileans were greater sinners than all other Galileans because they suffered this fate? 3 I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. 4 Or do you suppose that those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them were worse culprits than all the men who live in Jerusalem? 5 I tell you, no, but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”

6 And He began telling this parable: “A man had a fig tree which had been planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and did not find any. 7 And he said to the vineyard-keeper, ‘Behold, for three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree without finding any. Cut it down! Why does it even use up the ground?’ 8 And he answered and said to him, ‘Let it alone, sir, for this year too, until I dig around it and put in fertilizer; 9 and if it bears fruit next year, fine; but if not, cut it down.’”

My Pastor 7-2-12

My pastor, I will not forget,
and wasn't my first choice,
to lead my favorite gospel hymns
with his low, raspy voice.

He couldn't seem to keep a beat
or hit a single note.
He once admitted to us all,
he sounded like a goat!

At times, the sermon, he'd forget.
Sometimes he'd drop his cane.
Most thought he was a special man -
but some, a bit insane.

Though he was sometimes questioned by
his well-intentioned peers,
a wisdom came to flourish from
vast Bible-reading years.

He often had a part-time job,
yet seemed to be around,
to answer all my crazy calls
with questions more profound.

Although he eased my fears and pain,
he had fears of his own.
Because we never heard complaints,
his ills were rarely known.

He sometimes lost his glasses and
the few announcements too.
His pocket watch would sometimes stop.
He fell a time or two.

His clumsiness was obvious,
He spilled his water cup.
Though Satan tried distracting him,
he never did give up.

So preach, he did, each Sunday morn,
through babies cries or cough.
He'd speak awhile and then some more,
'till grandpa dozed right off.

His speech would race, emotions great -
he'd tell us of God's Son,
who had to die to save the lost -
for me and everyone.

Once grandpa 'sawed his logs' quite loud.
Who knew what grandpa dreamed?
Yet pastor never missed a beat.
So futile preaching seemed.

Sometimes I'd reminisce when he
would knock on grandpa's door -
to visit him when he was sick,
then here, dismiss his snore.

But higher still, than grandpa's snore -
his words echoed above.
He'd pound down on my hardened heart
the softness of God's love.

I'll not forget his alter calls,
his passioned plea, to come -
to lay my every burden down -
so Christian, I'd become.

And one thing more I'll not forget,
in sermons through the weeks -
that he loved every one of us -
the proof ran down his cheeks.

My pastor, I will not forget.
He wasn't my first choice.
Delighted, though, I'd be again
to hear that raspy voice.

***

We love you pastor. You're sincere.

Oh, how we all recall,

the many ways we challenged you.

You rose above it all.

There's so much more you did for us.

Compassion you could share.

You've 'walked the talk' so faithfully,

so this begins our prayer...

"Dear Jesus, hear us. Give this man

a very special place.

You'll know him when you see him there -

for he reflects Your grace.

Today, we'll reminisce and miss,

past times that slipped away.

We thank you for our pastor and,

his very special way..."

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Hopelessly Helpless? 6-28-12

I woke up from sleeping and found myself eating

a piece of old barley bread.

While feeding on breakfast, I thought it most unjust

that yours was a warm one instead.

Though willow branch bends, it cannot make amends

to a place that I'm sitting between.

A rock and a hard place that's hopeless to face -

and torment, the greatest I've seen.

My great sacrifice just wouldn't suffice.

These shoes that I wear aren't by choice.

"We can't refinance" was the bank's 'song and dance'

but who would hear my little voice?

Despite life-long effort, they're selling me short,

my business at such a great cost.

The bank never spared because they hadn't cared,
hence millions of dollars were lost.

So don't store up treasures for everyday pleasures,

in things of this earth that will rust.

The great love of money has never been funny,

for only in God should we trust.

It's so disconcerting my children are hurting,

yet hopelessly helpless I am.

Despite expectations to pay obligations,

I now can't help any of them.

I sit in the shade of these problems banks made.

This willow tree weeps with me too.

The moral of story is not really gory

if we've learned a lesson or two.

Those decades of years bring me sad lonely tears

for they took everything that I had.

But what greater loss - than was Christ's on the cross?

I maybe don't have it so bad.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Evergreen Hope 6-21-12

Spectacular wonder, the view way out yonder,

from high on this mountain slope.

God's great vast creation brings glad adoration

to Jesus who offers us hope.

From just one small seed, a potential indeed,

I crushed, by mistake, underfoot -

so whispered a prayer and stepped over where

another small sapling took root.

And on that rock shelf I thought to myself,

"Oh, how can that seedling be grown,

up here where it toils in dry rocky soils,

in midst of more turmoil not known?"

The seasons and years, the blizzards and fears,

rose doubts that had made me take pause,

It sure hadn't thrived but had it survived -

Had it overcome nature's laws?

Now several years later I found something greater

when I returned back to that tree.

I had to admire, it soared so much higher,

and grew so much taller than me.

I once saw it crushed, but now I am hushed,

and humbled at what God had done.

One tiny example of something we trample

brings life from the tomb of His Son!

A long time ago under hail and snow,

despite its long discord and strife,

its tap root had locked way down deep in the rock

that faithfully brought it to life!

Oh, why can't I be like that evergreen tree,

that grew up so high in the sky?

The greenest of green that I've ever seen,

oh tell me Lord, why cannot I?

Spectacular wonder, the view way out yonder,

from high on this mountain slope.

God's vast great creation brings glad adoration

to Jesus who offers me hope.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Sparrow 6-12-12

A hawk soared high

with hungry eye

for hour after hour.

At times it'd stop

above rooftop,

above the belfry tower.

There it would perch

above this church,

atop the highest tree.

It's Satan's way,

to seek the prey -

for something greedily.

That hawk would plunge,

swoop down and lunge

to seize a tasty meal.

I thought it odd,

so prayed, "Dear God,"

and knew the threat was real.

A sparrow sensed

the danger hence,

and needed quick, to fly.

Through broken glass

I saw, alas,

that sparrow fly right by.

Now safe inside,

it sought to hide

this room it flew across.

What was in store

was answered for,

below the unlit cross.

Though lights were broke,

the sun had spoke,

as stained glass glowed throughout.

And broken pane

caused streaks from rain,

as church was emptied out.

When sparrow see,

should follow, we,

and walk the straight and narrow -

to take refuge

from subterfuge,

with God's most precious sparrow?

If we'll return

to church and learn;

the God that grace is of;

then from all sin

there's safety in,

the shelter of His love.

I learned that day,

that come what may,

there's comfort under wing.

I know because

that sparrow does!

It sure can chirp and sing!

And so could we

if we were free

of peril from the perch.

So lets equip

in fellowship,

the filling of our church.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Matthew 10:31 (NASB)

So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.

Beneath His Willow Tree 6-8-12

So tell me, does God understand,
and can He really see,
a weary widow on this bench
beneath His willow tree?

There were parents busy with,
their children running free,
but no one noticed I sat here
beneath His willow tree.

Of all the people in the park,
I thought of only me.
Could no one know my broken heart
beneath His willow tree?

My husband's recent passing adds
one more bad memory,
to all my pile of heartaches here
beneath His willow tree.

"Please take away my loneliness."
I prayed, "May sorrow flee" -
but felt my tear start rolling down,
beneath His willow tree.

I prayed for one small miracle,
just one drop from His sea -
then found a peace not felt before,
beneath His willow tree.

As Jesus kissed my tear away,
I noticed lovingly,
another weary woman rest,
beneath His willow tree.

And then she shared her loneliness.
A new friend she would be.
We talked and laughed and opened up
beneath His willow tree.

The sun came out and brightened us,
as we sipped green iced tea -
and reminisced together here
beneath His willow tree.

So tell me, does God understand,
and can He really see,
a weary widow on this bench
beneath His willow tree?

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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John 13:34 (NASB)

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another,

even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.