There is a place I like to climb
where beauty gives me pause to rhyme
as I look down on old Luzern
and play with words I love.
It is a place from which I gaze
at sights that prompt my heart to praise
the One who’s left His fingerprints
for those who dust to find.
This is a place in my Luzern
where I reflect on what I’ve learned
from times like these when I take time
to still my mind and see.
We think of saints as icons,
in some stained glass in a church
or sculpted as a statue in a nave.
But a saint is really anyone,
who loves like Jesus did,
while trusting in His sinless life to save.
Some say that saints are saintly,
almost perfect, without fault.
And some say you can’t be one ‘til you’ve died.
But what I read in Scripture
seems to counter what we’re told.
Imperfect as we are we’re saints alive!
* Note how The Epistle to the Ephesians begins:
Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God,
To the saints who are in Ephesus, and faithful in Christ Jesus… (Ephesians 1:1)
 Greg’s book, “Sunday Rhymes & Reasons“ is listed on the BOOKS menu at $14.95 from Create Space. |
If Heaven offered free e-mail.
what would our loved ones want to tell?
Since they now know what matters most,
I’m guessing they would write…
To view each day as if a gift.
To run t’ward peace when there’s a rift.
To see the value when we play.
To know God hears us when we pray.
To recognize there’s always time
to bend an ear or to be kind.
To smell the fragrance of a flower.
To bask beneath a summer shower.
To feel the wonder of it all
when autumn leaves begin to fall.
To taste the sweetness of a pear.
To give to God our every care.
To serve a homeless man a meal
and then to journal what we feel.
To stroke a newborn baby’s hand
in awe of God’s mysterious plans.
To watch the ocean churn and foam.
To take a sunrise walk alone.
To stand beside a dying friend
and hold their hand until the end.
To understand that life is brief
marked both by joy but also grief.
To come to terms with Jesus Christ
acknowledging His sacrifice.
To baptize Doubt as Faith’s godchild
who will (in time) believe.
A banyan tree in paradise
stands charred with limbs outstretched
and pictures hope amid grave tragedy.
The spirit of aloha lives
in those who’ve lost their homes
and in the prayers of onlookers like me.
This banyan tree’s a metaphor
much like Christ’s parable
of one who builds their life on rock (not sand).
When trials come (and come they will)
that threaten to destroy,
a rooted life with faith will surely stand.
What stands is rooted neath the earth
where nourishment is found.
What we can’t see accounts for what is seen.
When gale-force winds and hungry flames
envelop us with fear,
what anchors us sustains our faith and dreams.
O God, please comfort those who grieve
the loss of homes and lives.
Provide them with the means to carry on.
And may the message of the tree
inspire us to see
that faith remains when what we loved is gone.
At the YMCA there’s a gym and a pool
and some rooms like a hotel to stay.
But there’s also a hall in which hang photographs
that recall VIPs of the day.
It’s a hall where the values of Christ are enshrined
along with a few worthy men
who served like their Savior (with others in mind)
while giving allegiance to Him.
It’s a hall that includes those who stand up for peace
while making (of strangers) new friends.
It’s a hall where the flame of the Y is maintained
and where fame’s but a means to an end.
It’s a hall where my friend Michael Bussey resides
with his humble heart grateful and full.
By the glint in his eye and the look on his face
I can tell it is well with his soul.
My Rhymes and Reasons 