Biblical poetry
Poems
Short scripture-shaped verse — a poem for the day, written to help you see God's word in ordinary moments.
- Poems
- 477
Doing Distractions
With hands on the keyboard, I was ready to write, With plans piled up and my intentions just right. But buzzes and beeps and a knock on the door— Made my focus go Poof! and drop to the floor. Some distractions sparkled and grinned ear-to-ear. They whispered, “Come this way. It’s better here.” They p
Writing Compass
It’s a tragic, odd day—quite a puzzling sight— When Christian writers don’t shine much light. You squint at their pages and scratch at your head: “Is this Christ-inspired … or something else instead?” They wear the right labels. The titles sound true, But their words blend right in with the cultural
Independence Day
On the Fourth of July, when the sparklers all gleam, With hot dogs and baseball and dreams of ice cream, We picnic and laugh in the sun’s blistering glow, With short sleeves, shorts, and sandals ready to go. Boom-bang! go the fireworks—red, white, and blue. Happy birthday, America. Please pass the b
Self-Made
“Self-made,” the voice said with a puffed-up parade. I need no help. No advice. See the things I’ve made.” But paths built on pride may look shiny and smart, While they are quietly cracking and falling apart. Lucifer said, “I’m great. I’ll rise on my own. No ruler, no maker—I’ll make my own throne.”
Master Plan
A student forever. Hip-hip-hooray! I’d ask and I’d wonder and circle and chew On questions that led to hundreds more too. I loved how ideas would pop and then spark. I’d wander through answers until after dark. If learning were oceans, I’d happily swim, With waves of “Why?” washing up to my chin. Bu
The Speck That Helped Me See
I pondered one day, with a tilt of my head, “What has most helped my growth?” I said. I looked back through years—thirty or more— And wondered what all this learning was for. It wasn’t a trophy or title or praise, Or clever routines I repeated for days. It started when others would ask me
Purposeful Heart
I wondered one day, while tying my shoe, “Why do I do all the things that I do?” I eat and I sleep, and I rush here and there, But what is the purpose behind all that care? Some purposes whisper. Some shout. Others hum, Some happen by habit. We don’t think. We just run.
Awakened Heart
You can shout out the truth till your voice turns blue, With facts stacked up tall and simple logic in view. But some cross their arms and refuse to agree. Their minds build a wall where belief can’t be. They argue and question and sharpen each word. They doubt what is spoken or recordings heard.
Recycled Trash
Do you remember what the old saying is about? The adage simply says, “Garbage in. Garbage out.” Well let’s tip that old phrase and give it a shove— Because better things happen with care and love. For what if instead of having garbage to show, We used bad stuff so something good would grow? Not
The Mind of Christ
We often forget what mercy had planned: That God would live as one of us in this land. When Jesus took flesh, our new life could begin, For though flesh could sin, his spirit wouldn’t sin. A connection on both ends makes a bridge complete, Reaching from a sinless God above to our sinful feet.
Called to Write
Frank didn’t like writing at all—nope, not a smidge. He typed code, managed business, and walked the bridge. The work paid the bills, so he nodded and agreed. He chose to love hard labor, whatever the need. Spiritual dreams. They came so brightly during the night. Christians mentioned Jesus as if di
Out of Control
I once stared at the monitor with the page so bright. “I’m in control,” I said, “making everything just right.” I planned every chapter, placed each comma on cue, Until the joy slipped away—and the story did too. “Work harder,” I said. “More hustle. More speed.” I chased many goals, both my wants an