The Unfinished Book Club
February 27, 2026
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We meet once a week with manuscripts in hand, With visions of bestsellers so poorly planned. We sip on our coffee. We chatter and scheme,
We meet once a week with manuscripts in hand, With visions of bestsellers so poorly planned. We sip on our coffee. We chatter and scheme,
The world is loud with buzz and hum, A thousand voices are beating the drum. They shout and sing, “Come my way and see.” But
When all has been placed at the feet of the Son, And every last battle of pride has been won, Then all of creation, both
I once was quite certain. I knew I was right. My logic was flawless, at least in my sight. I’d argue with others with passion
In a town full of Tallers and Shorters and Such, Where the Tallers made more and Shorters made much, There lived young Sam, so marvelous
When you’re young, you need help to stand and speak. You wobble, you fall, and your balance feels weak. With confidence, you grow and think,
A strange thing happens when you help someone. The giver turns out to be the most-blessed one. For answers you give come circling through, And
We wait till we’re sinking before we think to cry out. “Lord, toss me a life vest,” we say with some doubt. But wisdom would
We Google, we text, we ask a best friend, And pray to the Lord when we reach the end. But prayer should come first, not
When we’re little, we ask for a hand, To tie up our shoes or help us stand. But as we grow tall, we start to
We walk on the earth made of dust and clay. Our bodies grow weak and tired by the day. But dust is not doom, the
Some say the critic is the villainous foe, Who laughs when your story moves too slow. But truth be told, and here’s where it starts,