Category Archives: Poetry

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Maker of All

I had fun writing this poem this week, and thought it worked well sandwiched between these verses. Enjoy!

Hebrews 11:3 “By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible.”

Colossians 1:16 “For by Him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities- all things were created through Him and for Him.

Maker of All

Satin ribbon,
starch and dye,
I could try
to replicate a rose;
But imitation only tends
to flatter the real thing.

Could I stitch
even a simple wing?
Making first the hollow frame,
criss-cross the trusses,
lend it strength for the stress
of taking flight?

Could I composite
fabrics that feel so soft,
yet shed water off,
and shape them neat
into feathers?

Could I give the wing skin,
sticking those feathers in
and angling them for flight?

We dress up in camo
but chameleon’s camouflage within.
We graft green broken branches back
but the tree accepts them in.
We propel impressive ships,
but none jump like a humpback
whale with its’ weight;
And everything we make
borrows and imitates.

My feeble hands
point to the sky,
knowing who to glorify.
An eagle soars,
seeking his pray
and knows, like I do now,
his Maker.

Job 39:26-29

“Is it by your understanding that the hawk soars
and spreads his wings toward the south?
Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up
and makes his nest on high?
 On the rock he dwells and makes his home,
on the rocky crag and stronghold.
 From there he spies out the prey;
his eyes behold it from far away.”

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Opportunity in a Confused World

I wrote this poem a few months ago, and it came alive on its’ own (somewhat literally). I love when that happens. Being back in the world of secular University, I was hearing again old jargon I had almost forgotten about; Sentiments such as “There is not really such thing as truth,” or “Everyone has their own truth that is right for them.”

It seems a crazy thing has happened since I wrote this poem- and I might be wrong, but it seems that fashionable way of thinking is on its way out. There are not many people singing kumbaya on my Facebook feed these days anyway.

 Alright, I’ll let you read the poem- maybe read it twice, and then I’ll say some more.

 Free Thoughts Rise Up

“Thoughts are sand,” she said
And it was true;
Water them- they’ll clump
Together and glue.

“Beliefs are sand,” she said,
But culture dumps
Presuppositions,
Making builders chumps.

“Truth is sand,” she said,
“Pure volition
Follows what is felt
And casts a vision.”

“Call us all to shore.
Let the pot melt
Our portrait of man
In shades yet undealt.”

“In the great contest
All truth should stand,”
She said, bias unfelt
Pen poised in hand,
Ready to judge
Without scrutiny,
She approached the sand

And I sensed danger.
I sensed danger
For the sand life forms smiled,
Starting with a thought
And an idyllic plot.

But I sensed danger
Since crooked does exist,
Since evil comes wrapped up with bows,
Portraying what we want to know.

So I sensed danger
When she left the happy scene,
Each structure with a ribbon
Between its teeth.
All winners,
But the life forms
Lived to compete.

I saw them snarl,
Taking up their swords,
The tide turned like a flood,
And they all bathed in blood. Continue reading

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Last Year- past the end of my rope.

January of last year I found out I was expecting our second child. I was half excited and half terrified, my dream and my dread all wrapped up in one.

New Years Eve of 2015 I had prayed more earnestly than that whole year before that I would conceive again. It was the first time I wanted another baby more than I wanted to escape pain. I prayed, and believed God would answer that prayer in the following year. It was the end of a hard year. Over three hard years. I had so much physical pain with my first pregnancy, and that pain was only just starting to fade three years after my daughter was born. Pain that stabbed me every time I walked and prevented me from doing so much of life. Pregnancy causes severe back and pelvic pain for me, and experience told me that healing from it and getting back to life was a nearly impossible task.

That New Year’s Eve I wrote:

“I don’t know that I’ve ever been so low
As this year
Or as high,
It was a battle knowing no retreats
Though bombs like rain
Fell from the sky.”

I was still scared that God would answer my prayer for a baby at the end of a year in which I battled so hard and was left weary, needing rest. If He did, how was I going to survive it? I was so spent with pain, so ready to move beyond it, yet I wanted another child so desperately. I ended that poem praying:

“Here I am- empty without You,
Take me up
Upon Your shoulder bear,
This year I pray you will surprise me
But You must carry my care.
Be it dark
Provide for me a spark-
Be it bright
Then dance me in that light.” Continue reading

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New Blog Announcement!

Hello readers! I’ve been blogging here at Come to Christ, since 2009. The Lord has been so good to me, and has done so much work in my heart these past five years through this avenue. I am starting up a new blog that I want to let you know about, at www.PoetryRenascent.com. I want you to know that I intend to keep Come to Christ running, but I want to make this new blog a higher priority, which means I will be posting on here less often.

A few reasons why I’ve started a new blog:

I’ve been writing poetry since I was around twelve years old, and it has played a crucial role in my life. Even as an unbeliever, poetry seemed to force me to be honest with myself about the condition of my soul, and in truth, that process had much to do with my coming to Jesus Christ. When I was saved around the age of eighteen I committed that my writing was to be first, and foremost, for the glory of God.

There are many reasons I’ve started up a poetry blog. I’ve faced many physical difficulties in my twenties, one of them being with my wrists. Pumping out lengthier articles (and attempted novels) doesn’t fare too well with my body most days. A few weeks back I confessed to the Lord I felt like I was constantly being driven into a corner; so I prayed that if I be in a corner, may He blow the roof off of it and let me see more glory and more beauty than I would ever be able to see in open fields.

I don’t know if that makes sense to you, but trust that it makes perfect sense to me.

Also, may it be said, that poetry is the form of writing that brings me the greatest sense of delight and satisfaction. I have long lamented that I was born in the wrong century and that “no one seems to care about poetry anymore.” Well, I feel challenged that perhaps that is not true.

Lastly, I recently read “Seeing Beauty and Saying Beautifully,” by one of my favorite writers and preachers, John Piper. I suggest you read it too as it mightily encouraged me in poetic pursuit.

What I hope (key word being hope) to accomplish with this blog:

1. I want to hone my own writing skills and bless first the Lord, then people with my poetry.

2. I want to read more stuff by poets and hymn writers of old. Then I want to share the best of it with you.

3. Of course I’m also happy to share poems or review poetry books by people far more accomplished then myself who have already published! Feel free to let me know what’s out there!

4. I want to share my love of hymns with you and try to feature modern artists who promote that same aim.

5. I want others to join me! I am hoping to receive and share some excellent, little-known or unknown poetry from other writers. Beyond that how awesome would it be if we could collaborate? I like to dream about musicians, and videographers, and photographers, and actors, and poets all collaborating together- but perhaps I dream too much?

Well, it doesn’t hurt to dream does it? In the meantime I’ll try to stay faithful to my meager efforts, as the Lord allows me to. I hope you will take time to visit my new website and perhaps share, subscribe, or follow on Facebook!

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Blessings,
Charlene Nelson

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Hem Me In

He had hemmed me in
Behind and before,
Drew the lines that fall
But I thought to soar
Past sunsets that looked
Like bars might prove more.

Pastures green, like plain
Bread, stale and dry
Rolled on for days; Streams
Meandered nearby-
My eyes gazed elsewhere,
I refused to lie.

“Pleasant places, these,”
Said a lamb. I nod,
Pretend, but o’er the
Valley there’s a broad
Place with less restraints-
To please! But not God…

Oh, but there to taste
To spread like wild vine!
Should such a pleasure
Be deprived of mine?
Can sweet fruit not grow
Among fainter lines? Continue reading

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To Know Him

To know the inscrutable
Eternal God,
This is where my heart
Must trod.
To know Him near and wholly mine
This piece of clay the great Divine.

An awesome task with shudder
To with miry
Hands raise diamonds to
Fiery
Sun, while mucking there the glassy
Cuts might make such brilliance brassy.

It is with trepidation
Lowly, trembling
Men find station with
Their King.
Before His word they groping ask
“Who is sufficient for such task?” Continue reading

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The Unveiling is Not Cruel

Did you think
To put you in a furnace
Would not scorch your skin?

To come out gold
With easy glee
And not the surfacing of sin?

Or that boiling water hot
Would like a warm bath
Scathe you not?
Like sinking in so comfortably
To fire should come easily?

Oh, perhaps some seasoned saint
Could stand unflinching at a cross-
I doubt it.

There was man- Him without dross
Who fell face down before His cross,
An angel sent to strengthen there
The Son of Man weighed down with care.

Surprised?
By this: The Man of Sorrows
Pausing, praying at the cup?
What an awful load to bear
And what a sip to sup.

But you,
You know your lot is small
Compared to Jesus
Or to Paul,
‘Tis not a stake,
Or stones, or whips
Or hungry nights and sinking ships.

“Some men by worthy trials be
Cast low,
But who should pity me?”

So in your little furnace flame
A crying up-reaching
Burns with shame,
You see you are a smoldering wick,
Should wrath be kindled
Hasting quick? Continue reading

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A Thorn To Bless

What will I do with satan’s thorn
Lodged deep in weakest access point?
No pill to take
No treatment makes
It well, no method has supplied
A cure,
Steps stumble; Backward falls
The soldier, boldly with a limp
But limping on
He goes, he goes,
A carefully crafted grin
All turmoil within.

Paul called his a tormentor,
Assailant of the flesh,
A harassing messenger
Its’ agent being death.

What wickedness with cruel intent
Should drive the thorn so deep?
What does he gain
From this my pain?-
But not my soul to keep.

God, the guardian of my soul-
He does not sleep.
No armies march past Him
While I do weep. Continue reading

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Share It With Me- A Poem for My Daughter

Share It With Me

God’s wonders all around
It takes a two year old to see
The tiny movements in the feet
Of the gathering bee.

This day if I alone
Went for a walk down by the slue
I would not tromp through long, thick grass
To find the dragonflies like you.

I would not leave the trail
To weave and spin beneath the trees,
Leap from stumps, or watch squirrels bustle
Or hear the rustling breeze.

For an hour we could
Toss stones, and in ripples rejoice;
A nursery rhyme’s a prize told
To you in mommy’s voice.

Dandelions become
Flowers, picked and clutched in my fist,
And berry picking not a chore
But a picnic and bliss.

I would have missed the moon
If you’d not pointed to the sky
And the jets roaring overhead
As swift they pass us by.

Such clutter adulthood
Bestows with busyness and rush
I had forgotten how to lie
In grass and there to hush.

To you life is a gift
One that you open without shame
And throw yourself headlong into
‘Tis pleasure and a game.

To be so free from cares
In life, you will not always be
But while you are dear, precious gift
Keep sharing it with me.
Adelle

My blog is not a “mom blog” and I know this isn’t my typical post. Maybe you wonder how it correlates to “Come to Christ.” This poem is a reflection of the delight I have in my daughter’s good delight. Parenting toddlers is often connoted with dread and difficulty, not so much with delight. We’re all familiar with the phrase “terrible twos.” For sure, it is a task that challenges us and tests our patience at times. Sometimes I don’t feel like “dealing” with toddler things today. But more often I am overwhelmed with the beauty of this relationship and the joy of parenting my daughter. She is a gift from God, so I will celebrate that here. There’s not a lot of celebrating children in our culture today, and I think God is pleased when we rejoice in them.

I’m teaching her about Christ, and she’s teaching me too, about all the simplistic, wonderful things God has granted us to enjoy in His creation and in the love of family. His care is displayed in these marvelous things, and I am grateful. When I enjoy my child, I do so with a love for God. All good gifts here point us back to praise the giver- all praise be to His Name!

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Still: A Poem For Christians Awaiting Perfection

Learned, but have I really learned
To trust?
Hoped in God, yet other times
In dust.
Treasures high, but also some
That rust.
Desired God; not always,
But I must.

Hungry, thirsty, satisfied
And filled,
Yet other times all empty
Wanting, nil.
Reaching for His word I must
Be still,
It’s there dry bones ignite to
Do His will.

Overcame, but still more fears
To find,
Surrendered all, I thought, but
Still blind
To fortresses tall standing
In my mind.

Arrived- not ever, not yet
Perfected- not close, but press
Onward- to where salvation lies
Forward- straining for the prize
Upward- rising to His throne
Why? For Christ made me His own. Continue reading