Unseen

Sometimes the best things in life are those we can't see.

Love, for example.  We can see the results and expression of it, but it's not tangible...not something we can actually see or touch.

Jesus said in Matthew 6,

"When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen.  Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you." (Matthew 6:6)

Paul wrote to the Corinthians,

"Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

God is unseen.  Faith is invisible.  In the letter to the Hebrews it says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."  (Hebrews 11:1)

This faith in the invisible is not something God expects us to conjure of our own accord.  He gives us faith as a free, unearned gift. God knows that sometimes we struggle with believing in something we can't see.  So he helps us.

It's like the wind.  One of the few poems I've ever memorized is this, The Wind, by Christina Rosetti:

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

So it is with God.  And so it is with faith.  We cannot see or touch them, but we can feel them.  We can be sure of their presence in our lives, and especially in our hearts.  And we can see the expressions of them.

We can see the results of our faith when life seems most confusing and distressing, and yet we're able to give our worries and cares to God and lean on him.

We can see the expression of God when he answers our prayers in ways we would never expect...or when he shows us his love in something as simple as a sunset, or a baby's laugh, or a hug from a loved one.

So today, look for the unseen.  Look for how those things which are most precious, but which are invisible to our eyes, reveal themselves in your life.

The best things in life... are those we can't see at all.


Linking with: Upward Not Inward, Deep Roots at Home, Raising Homemakers, We are THAT Family, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home

Three New Poems

They can be found at my school/writing blog, Read. Write. Live.  It's been a while since I posted anything there, and these are poems I'm fairly pleased with.

{If you read them, please let me know what you think}

A poem on my other blog...

I mentioned I have a new blog for class.  Here it is: there's something there now. :)  If you read it, please let me know what you think!

http://wp.cune.org/jaimieramsey/2012/01/12/transparency-a-poem/

untitled poem

O my chid, you fret and worry
over things which you cannot control.
Have you ever looked at the birds?
Birds which have a nest and food?
How much more valuable are you than they!
O my child, do not worry about your life.

O my child, why do you dwell on the future?
You can't see what will happen.
But I can, beloved one.
I have plans for you: good plans,
plans that will not hurt you,
but plans that will give you hope.
O my child, place your future in my hands.

O my child, why are you so anxious?
Why do you try so hard to control your life?
Why do you burden yourself unnecessarily?
Come to me. Tell me everything.
I know you can't understand, but I do understand.
Let me give you my peace, peace that the world can't give.
O my child, turn your worry into thankfulness.

O my child, why do you wallow in your guilt?
Confess it all to me. It's already gone.
My Son paid the price, for your sins
and for the whole world's.
Know that I forgive you. Your sin is gone.
O my child, know that I love you.

Thankful Thursday

Linking up with black tag diaries today!

Today I am thankful for:

~Chai tea and homemade toast for breakfast

~Encouragement and critiquing among friends and classmates

~The incredibly inspiring poetry of high-school girls

~A four-year-old who never fails to bring joy to my heart

~An amazing lunch hour at home with my husband :)

~A squirrel dashing through our modern poetry class (which was meeting outside)

~The gorgeous weather!

~A kind and generous school newspaper editor

~Encouragement and laughter from friends and coworkers on a busy night

~An hour in the library, visiting with a friend while we got paid to sit at the circulation desk

~The knowledge that tomorrow is Friday

~God's constant grace, providence, love, mercy, forgiveness...

There Are No Words

Rather in contrast to my earlier post today, this is a poem that was born from a thought I had in poetry class (about half an hour ago), in response to a line in another poem: "A poem should be wordless/as the flight of birds" (from "Ars Poetica" by Archibald Macleish). So here it is: "There Are No Words."

I can't speak- I choose not to.
There is so much I could say, but
there are no words.
He doesn't deserve them.
No.  That's not true.
I don't deserve to speak them.
The fury, filling my soul--
No.  It's irritation, mild and petty.
There should be no words:
Nothing should be born out of this
petty frustration.
The words that don't yet exist
outside of my mind
slowly fade away, and with them
the scowling monster,
the monster that furrows my brow
pinches my lips into a line
muddies my heart.
Th monster of petty irritation dies,
and in its place live
the spirit of peace, of forgiveness.
I look at him, my brow smoothing,
lips relaxing into a smile,
heart filling with joy--with love.
And as I look at him...
There are no words.

He Did it All for Me

He left his throne on heaven,
glory, majesty, honor,
to be born in a little stable:
dirty, smelly, dark.

He was born to the virgin Mary,
young, scared, naive.
He was raised by the carpenter Joseph,
Poor, strong, and wise.

He grew as a child of man,
Learning, growing, serving.
And as a child of God,
Wise, faithful, perfect.

He chose his twelve disciples,
Men, ordinary, special.
He taught them who he was:
The Way, the Truth, the Life.

He prepared for his own death,
teaching, serving, loving.
He cried out to his Father,
humbly, sadly, willingly.

He let himself be taken,
Beaten, scorned, and mocked.
He let them crucify him,
Nailing, pounding, killing.

He gave up his own life,
Gladly, willingly, painfully.
He took it up again,
Victoriously, joyfully.

He went back to his father,
Glorified, honored, majestic.
He will come back again:
God, Savior, Friend.

And he did it all
for me.
For you.
For the world.

Singing.

Standing there, surrounded by people
music swelling around me
gazing down at the hearers below,
the arms of the conductor moving
in sync with the music,
fingers flying over organ keys,
voices raising.

Song, music, melody,
in harmony, in unison, deep and high
rich and warm
the words, the old hymn,
"When I survey..."

Smiling across at him, that man,
who holds my heart in his hands,
who is my life.
We sing together.
We sing with friends, old and new
and people whose names we don't know
but with whom, for this moment,
we are united in purpose:
praise.

Praise of the One Who created music
Who gave us our voices
Who alone deserves our honor, our all.
So I sing, with all that is in me, for Him.

"Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love, so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!"

Walking in the Rain

Drops run down my face,
like cold tears,
into my eyes, down my cheek.
My hair, my clothes,
all getting soaked.
I don't like it, getting wet
especially without an umbrella.
But then I realize,
He's washing the earth.
And He's washing me,
like He did at my baptism.
Water ran over my head then, too.
And He made me His own.
He cleansed me of my sins,
through water and the Word,
and still, daily, He washes me,
washes my sins away.
Not with water, anymore,
with grace, forgiveness.
I realized this,
walking in the rain.


It's still National Poetry Month!

May He

I was reading 1 Peter chapter 3, where Peter instructs wives to be submissive to their husbands as Christ set them an example by being submissive to his Father. Peter encourages women to let their beauty not come from outward appearances, but "Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight" (1 Peter 3:4). In meditating on this chapter (3:1-7), I wrote another poem- it's still National Poetry Month, after all!

May He


May He make me
beautiful, not on the outside,
but from within:
the beauty of gentleness and quietness of spirit,
beauty that will not fade.

May He make me
reverent toward him
and through that reverence, may he grant
that I live a pure and holy life.

May He make me
strong enough to submit,
wise enough to let my husband lead,
humble enough to serve with my whole heart.

May He make me
fearless, trusting my husband,
and above all,
trusting Him who holds my life in his hands:
He Who made me.

Another Poem

Not much time to post today, but here's one I wrote for a writing class this semester.  It's personal, but it's the one I'm most proud of.

Unity


She on his lap,
arms tight round each other,
locked there, firm, at rest.
Her head on his shoulder
feeling his heart beat as if it were her own,
their breathing as one breath.
Drawn together
as if the strongest magnets in the world
were pulling them close
from within.
Long minutes pass,
minutes in which no other world exists
outside of them.

A Poem-Psalm

It's National Poetry Month, and inspired by my lovely friends Teagan and Lisa, I thought I might do something spur-of-the-moment.

Now, a disclaimer: I wrote this inspired by the Jude doxology (see previous post), and my audience is therefore One: God himself.  This is for him.  But I'm guessing David didn't think billions of people would read his psalms, either, so I'm sharing it.  :)  It's rough, I just wrote it in about five minutes, but here it is:

God, I marvel at your works.
Looking at the bright blue sky,
the warm, life-giving sun--
I know you placed them there and
you hold them there and
you made them beautiful.

I see your glory in the
tiny, perfect figure of a
newborn baby.
You created them and
gave them life!
What's more, you did the same
for me.
You put cells together
and made them live and grow
and those cells
became me.

That's how you create every person.
In making us, you give us purpose:
purpose to live, to praise and serve you,
our Creator.

So often we fail.
So often we want glory for ourselves
and take it from you.

But as surely as you are the God
who creates,
you are the God
who forgives,
who has taken away
all our sins.
And when we fall before you
in contrite repentance,
you say, "My child,
your sin is gone.
My Son has taken it
and instead has given you
his righteousness."

God, I praise you for your goodness,
your compassion and love and greatness and power!
May I live to praise and honor you
with my whole life.


Share in National Poetry Month!