GUILTY

You shall have no other gods before Me.

We have honored others before You: music, media, and entertainment stars, politicians, those we admire, pets, special places, those we love and have loved. We have put these things first: jobs, reputation, leisure pursuits, goals, wealth, status, and causes. We’ve loved the earth and animals so much, that they became our focus. We worshiped the creation more than the Creator.

You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.

We have erected beautiful cathedrals and church buildings to admire while leaving adoration of You on the threshold. We’ve admired physical fitness until those with great bodies gained attention and acclaim beyond what we give You. We’ve been more concerned with our safety than with proclaiming Your Name. We’ve named a show American Idol and watched it without flinching. We cheered the immunity idol without a thought. We think if we say we idolize someone or something it’s to our credit.

We’ve purchased buddhas we think are cute and toured religious relics the activity of which we thought made us sophisticated. We have tried to fit in to other cultures by covering our face or bowing our head. We’ve exclaimed over these things made of wood and stone, wax and clay, and left little time and energy for admiration of our actual Creator.

You shall not misuse the Name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses His Name.

We’ve carelessly thrown Your Name around like a trinket in speech, or used it in praise without a thought of who You truly are. We barely notice when Your Name is misused. We’ve been more concerned about how the worship team sounds and the songs that we sing than who is being worshiped. We’ve promised to pray and have not prayed. We’ve proclaimed Your power with faithless voices.

Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, not your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but He rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

We’ve become lazy about honor. We use the Sabbath as a day to catch up on work we didn’t do earlier. We shop. We take in entertainment or sports without acknowledging that a special day requires attention on Your creation, not our desires. We are undisciplined in reading Your Word; In praying and drawing ever closer to the One who loves us beyond description; In fasting to diminish our appetites for anything other than You.

Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.

We give honor when it is convenient and does not wear us out. We dismiss old wisdom because it seems out of date. We make many excuses, but are without one that is legitimate.

You shall not murder.

We speak death with our words. We’re harsh with those we don’t like and who we don’t understand. Our criticism tears their spirit and we admit no fault.

We kill infants who aren’t yet formed or who are tiny enough to be at our mercy. We call it abortion and choice, not murder and child sacrifice. We torture those of any age, finally sacrificing them on the alter of satan, himself. We drink the blood and laugh at the sorrow. And if we hear of such horrors, we dismiss them because we don’t want to admit they exist.

You shall not commit adultery.

We watch television and movies that make sexual promiscuity and deviance common and expected. We let it seep into our thinking. We trade one spouse for another and find a way to claim victimhood. We not only approve perversion, but commend it.

You shall not steal.

We take someone else’s ideas, words, or inventions without giving credit, and say they are ours. We seduce the singular affections of another’s friend or family and keep them for our own. We steal from small businesses who have no protection or big businesses because they can’t track it. We accept money from a government who takes it from someone else. In all the slippery ways there are to misuse another’s earnings, we’ve done it. We have taken money and laundered it to increase our own estates. We’ve stolen children from families who are destitute and claimed we would help them. Instead we have sold them over and over for a pervert’s sexual pleasure. We’ve mismanaged money – our own and in our government – and made excuses for both.

You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor.

We’ve gossiped. We’ve misled others to make ourselves seem better and our sins seem less. We’ve said someone has done or said something they never did or said. We’ve threatened in order to gain confessions to reach our desired legal result. We’ve plotted and planned and written or leaked or lied or spread information that mislead others. We’ve censored information we didn’t want others to read or know.

You shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

We’ve wanted someone’s success or reputation and allowed it to discolor thankfulness for what we have. We’ve thought about their fortune while dismissing our own, we’ve cared about their lives while missing the goodness around us. We’ve lived lives of ingratitude.

God in Heaven, These and so many more are our sins. We don’t know how you can look on our nation without turning away. And we are laying our sin before You right now. It is filthy. It is despicable. It is stomach-churning. It is tarry and awful. We know we are a hardened wasteland that ingests garbage and doesn’t care. We REPENT. We are so sorry. We want to change.

Please heal. Please pour Your Spirit on us. Purify us from our sin. Purify us inside and out. Our thoughts return to You and You alone can heal us. We ask for Your mercy.

We’re Not Gonna Take It

They told us that we should shelter in place;

They told us to wear a mask on our face!

They told us that we could go to the store;

But that we shouldn’t go to church anymore!

Their models were lame;

Their science was faux;

We’re not gonna take this

Farce anymo’!

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They told us the future could look pretty dim;

They told us the hospitals were filled to the brim!

But nurses are furloughed and hallways are bare;

And if someone’s sick, they aren’t going there!

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Their models were lame;

Their science was faux;

We’re not gonna take this

Farce anymo’!

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So take all your charts, your guesses and games

Talk to your friends with important names;

Take your dear rule book and what you have banned;

But stay off our hopes, our dreams, and our land!

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Their models were lame;

Their science was faux;

We’re not gonna take this farce anymo’!

No, we’re not gonna take this farce anymo’!

We’re not gonna take this farce anymo’!

Let Your Fire Fall

The ground was dusty And the day was hot;

Sweat trickled down his face.

He set some stones, He dug a trench;

Unyielding, took his place.

If you trust those gods you love so much;

Just  ask ’em one small thing.

Light a fire Upon that wood.

C’mon.  Let me hear you sing!

Show your power!

Flash your might!

Light the pyre

On this site.

Prove to people

Once for all.

LET YOUR FIRE FALL!

Well prophets danced and people sang

And shouted for their god.

Send your fire, throw it down!

Unchanged the altar stood.

They cut themselves, a frenzy made

From morning through the day;

The man of God, he taunted them,

You sure he hears you pray?

Show your power!

Flash your might!

Light the pyre

On this site.

Prove to people

Once for all.

LET YOUR FIRE FALL!

His face was set, he built God’s broken

Altar up again.

He called for some to soak the wood

Three times ’til down it ran.

Lord God, he said, Let it be known

You are the God of all

And BOOM! A flash from heaven came;

God let His fire fall!

Show your power!

Flash your might!

Light the pyre

On this site.

Prove to people

Once for all.

LET YOUR FIRE FALL!

I Kings 18:20-39; Lyrics by Connie Miller Pease all rights reserved; Photo by Adonyi Gábor from Pexels

Learn to Breathe

National Day of Prayer: 3/15/2020

Our Heavenly Father,

We come before you as a nation – one nation under God despite what some desire. Yes, this nation is still Yours. And we acknowledge all You’ve done for this nation in your love and might. You influenced the Framers in its design. You’ve called people from many nations to come together with all of their gifts and perspectives and molded us together as one. E pluribus unum. You’ve given us freedom in which art, invention, business, and a multitude of other blessings have thrived; in which hometown parades are enjoyed; in which each one in a family is valued; in which we are free to say what we think regardless of how silly or wise. We know You have protected us individually and as a nation, and we are so very grateful to You.

But we must pray for forgiveness. We’ve become despicable with what we’ve allowed: course speech, perversion, selfishness, cowardice, laziness, gluttony. If there was way to break one of your commandments, we found it and did so or turned a blind eye to keep the peace. Oh Dear Lord, cleanse us. We are sick of sin. We are appalled at wickedness. Drive it out from among us! Purify this nation, we pray.

And now we ask You to heal us. Heal us of this flu. Heal the folks who have it and keep it from the folks who don’t. Heal us, too, of the fear that embraces us just now. Take it away, far away. Descend on us with Your peace and the knowledge of Your presence. If someone spreads fear intentionally, this is what we ask: we ask that every word will produce not fear, but faith; not cowardice, but courage. And we ask that those whose intentions are to destabilize us with fear – we ask that every word they speak will bring fear to them, that every effort to tear down will reduce them to dust. For we are not just sick from a germ. We are sick of lies and we are sick of deception and we are sick of corruption. So as we ask for healing from sickness, we ask for a clean sweep of evil in whatever form it takes. And we give you all the honor and glory.

In Jesus’ Saving Name we pray,

Amen.

A Prayer To The One Who’s There

Dearest Father,

Who was there the very moment we came into

being and knew what we would look like and how

we would think – could think;

Who watches us with care and insight, pleasure and sadness; great mercy and love;

Who anticipates our stumbles and successes;

Who measures our years and the minutes of our days;

Who sees our sins and hears our excuses;

Whose holiness we offend and Whose grace we dismiss;

To You, Father,

Of light and redemption and hope and delight and creation;

Of the tenderness of a mother and the encouraging discipline of a father;

Of knowledge beyond our comprehension;

Of unfathomable wisdom;

Of indescribable love;

Of mercy that travels deeper than the ocean and higher than the heavens;

Of presence;

We give thanks. No matter where we find ourselves nor when, You are there. You are there in good and bad circumstances. You are there when we are with friends, and You are there when we are among strangers, and You are there when we are alone. And when we pray, whether we sense it or not, You are there. You hear. Of all things great and small, the best of all is Your presence. For there is nothing good in our lives nor in this world that does not originate from Your hand. All abundance, all comfort in want, all beauty seen and felt and understood is from Our Heavenly Father.

And on this Thanksgiving Day we bring our small words of thanks to the Source of every blessing, and in great thankfulness for Your Presence.

In Jesus’ mighty and gracious Name,

Amen.

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Image: Pexels.com

Quiet Sadness

I think of all I hold dear;

God and loved ones, nature, more;

Note the path is darker here

Than it’s ever been before.

Ponder in this gloomy place

If I’ll live to see the light;

Or if some effort to erase

Will finally make it ever night.

No, not forever. Only now.

In such confidence I cope;

But this instance will allow

Quiet sadness mixed with hope.

Image: spencer-watson-p0Yupww_SNM-unsplash.jpg

 

You Just Need Know

The God who created this beautiful world, the heavens, the water and sky, 
Will surely hold you in the palm of His hand to protect and direct and supply
Your needs and your dreams and will comfort your cares,

And knowing you just as He does,
Give mercy abundantly, strength for the day, and you just need know that He loves.

Thanksgiving Time

Scratchy crunch of deadened leaves;

Musky scents of garden’s past;

Fading blues and reds and greens;

Shadows’ longer-reaching cast.

 

 

Spicy ciders, chocolate hot;

Comfort foods and pies and cake;

Fudge with nuts or maybe not;

Laden tables we can take.

 

Cozy fires with dancing flames

Mesmerize our dreams and thought;

Sweet traditions, years the same;

Sure reminders we were taught.

 

 

Heart’s desire is to express

In a place of grateful prayer

God’s abundance, His goodness;

And His kind and gentle care.

 

 

Poem: Connie Miller Pease; Images: wikimediacommons.jpg; Pexels.com; thanksgiving-1060214_960_720-pixabay-cco-public-domain.jpg

The Box

I wrote this nearly 30 years ago – before I owned either a computer or cell phone. Its length and language tell, perhaps, how much Tennyson I was reading at the time. Its truth, well you can decide for yourself.

*************************************************************************************************

Snow floats so lightly to the ground

Akin to diamonds’ sparkle bright.

It’s quiet, oh so quiet now

As onward winds the gentle night.

 

 

And light breaks up the darkness which

Was soft and warm, a friend to man.

Rays setting forth with their own gift

Of life, a silent contribution.

 

Acknowledged by the sons of Day

The sun projects its sharpest beam

Of warmth, of tenderness, of love,

Of clarity of visions seen.

 

The townsmen underneath the sky

In tasks intently diligent,

Yet stop to help a neighbor

In Greater work; benevolence.

 

A Child is born within this scape.

Fair, thoughtful, willing now to learn

He grows in stature, virtue, intellect;

Seizing lessons, each in turn.

 

In play with friend he learns of sharing;

Give and take, each in its place.

Perhaps to give the better part,

And in so doing finds more grace.

 

His father, mother, brother, sister

Teach him well in their own way

Of kinship greater than their own

Extending to the sons of Day.

 

Receives instruction, he and others,

From a wisened teacher there.

He learns of more than dates and graphs;

Learns the love of learning more.

 

Forgiveness from within his church

A lesson difficult to grasp;

Its merit true, yet grieving, freeing

Learns the Child as hands are clasped.

 

How charity and chastity

Go hand in hand, a deeper troth.

Consistent, true, considerate;

Teacher, student of his love.

 

A noble statesman teaches him

Not of rank or high degree,

But of higher consequence;

True vision, gentle quality.

 

 

Throughout the planting and the harvest

Child observes truths of the soil.

Seed produces same in harvest;

Patience requisite of toil.

 

From life itself the Child acquires

Understanding of own self’s control,

Without the which all else abridges

‘Til nought is left of value’s toll.

 

Along his journey thus instructed,

Child grows thoughtful, kind and good;

Stopping oft to help his neighbor,

Conscious of his brotherhood.

 

Light nudges night away again.

Child tends his work from day to day.

Projecting still its gift of life

The clarifying, warming Ray.

 

Into his work there comes a box,

A talking box with soothing sound.

Pleased to have this company,

Bemused, the Child keeps it around.

 

Its music stirs, its commentary

Sometimes stern, others humorous,

Box becomes a life its own;

Intent in its own righteousness.

 

Once again to help his neighbor

Child hears the box from shop to shop

Goading him for senseless labor,

“Have you had your turn?”, cries the box.

 

Troubled by this indignation

Child replies, “It matters not

Whose turn is whose in brotherhood.”

Silent is the box.

 

Soothing music, words that please him

Once again calm Child’s soul.

“I would not tell you what to do,”

Replies the box, sans virtue’s toll.

 

“I am your friend.  Look!  How I love you!

I am here both night and day!

I would not keep your brother hurting;

It’s only you I try to save.”

 

Not a little troubled, he,

The child considers its behest;

Yet what to do with the box?

Endures the stimulating chest.

 

And somewhat with relief he finds

The Box is what it claims to be;

A friend in hard times and in ease,

Providing helpful levity.

 

Again the Box scoffs at the Child

“O, innocent, you stupid man!”

Not one around chaste remains;

Each takes his pleasure best as he can.”

 

“Look yonder!  Love is only

Temporal and nothing more.

Naïve you are.  You poor dear Child.

Hold you only to folklore.”

 

Begins the child to answer it,

Yet pauses, thoughts newly confused;

Maintains his silence now disturbed.

Box, the one who seems bemused.

 

Thus encounters compromise

Of virtue, once he deemed as right.

Uncertain of his thoughts, his deeds;

The source unknown of Child’s plight.

 

Box seizes opportunity

With powerful song and dance.

It breathes a word, alluring,

Tempting.  Whispers, shouts it.  “TOLERANCE.”

 

“Yes, tolerance is fitting, caring,”

Says the Child, “It fits the beam

Of the Sun so high above us.”

Things not always what they seem.

 

Light inches in across the darkness

Radiating softer light.

Squinting, Child ponders slowly

“Why gleams the sun so bright, so bright?”

 

Once again a neighbor stops him

In this contemplative state.

“I advise you true direction,

Brother, friend who’s lost your way.”

 

“O you who are so high and mighty!

Slave to your own foolish task!”

Box admonishes the Child

“And what of Tolerance!”

 

“A man can turn ways manifold,

One way equal to the other.

Care you not to tolerate

The wanderings of your friend, your brother!”

 

Stutters Child, “The ways unequal

In the way; some briars, cliffs.

Friend would repent his wayward journey

To help was my sole motive.”

 

“Yet, perhaps I was hasty

In my vision for my friend.

Not I, but he it is who chooses

Paths to take to journey’s end.”

 

“Admitted he that he was lost,

But by my charge, admonition

Perhaps I unwittingly

Detracted from a truer vision.”

 

Thusly courses conversation;

“Surely you will learn to know

Even seedlings planted early

Into something different grow.”

 

“Childhood’s lessons better left

To babes.  You are too great for these.

With societal correctness

More the masses you will please.”

 

Another day forgiveness asked

From one held in the child’s debt.

Box intercepted, whispers,

“Why is it for him you fret?”

 

“He has nothing done to help you

Nor to make your days seem bright

Pardon would the error prove;

Debt his due, of course is right.”

 

“But what of tolerance?”

Inquires the Child.  His heart protests.

“This is nought of tolerance,”

Assures the Box, “Now take your rest.”

 

“Sons of Day need not the Sun

To guide them, keep them safe and strong.

Tolerate cacophony!

You will grow to love the song.”

 

Light filters through the clouds below

Touching, warming Child at play.

“Damn the light!  It scorches me.

Await I ‘til it goes away!”

 

Offered now a high position

Child considers in this hour

“Take it!  Take it!” Box demands him

“This shall offer you much power!”

 

“What of quiet, gentle service?”

Momentarily stays Child’s reply.,

Voices he the words to please it

“None more deserving than I.”

 

Years of subtle twisting, turning

Child and Box trace hand to hand’

Lessons learned so long ago

No more distract from Box’s stand.

 

Virtue, lost in years of message

From the Box, forever gone.

“’Tis hard to see the way I travel.”

Child loathe admits.  And travels on.

 

Lessons taught by truer teachers

Tossed aside Child knows not whence

Liberated from their limits

In the name of Tolerance.

 

Enters he into the twilight

Recognizing nought of sunlight’s bend.

Night no friend, it offers strictly

Cold and darkness without end.

 

Quietly the child lies down

Task long forgotten, sighs

“I cannot help but wonder if . . .”

His words drift off as dead he lies.

 

Snow floats so lightly to the ground

Akin to diamonds’ sparkle bright.

It’s quiet, oh so quiet now

As onward winds the gentle night.

 

The Child in his coffin lies

Lost to Day, alike to dark.

Triumphantly, a voice rings clear

Now his casket stands the Box.

 

 

Poem and copyright by Connie Miller Pease; photos: pexels.com; pixabay