#Christian Writing

[eyes-on-jesus]

I pray that God give me the strengh to be nice to people who are mean to me. To not match them in anger and to not be controlled by my emotions.

[beloved-of-john]

"Indeed, the safest road to Hell is the gradual one - the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts"

The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis

[tatesfaith]

" 4 But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, 5 made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved." Ephesians 2:4-5 🌿🤍✞

I am alive

You knew I wasn't before

You have arose me from my death

I was blind-

You are the bright light

You are the only branch of hope

I was thirsty-

You give me enough water

You fill me with your everlasting peace

You're with me

You are the purposeful vine

Jesus is glorious and everyone will see

A poem I wrote about how Jesus set me free, I'm so grateful to be even writing this, he took all my troubles and pain away that I was putting on myself, Jesus lives forever in our hearts ♡♡♡, hope this can help & encourage you too in the freedom and life in Christ 🥹❤️‍🩹🌿

You can also find this poem in my ongoing poetry book called My Christian Poetry 🗒️✧ by @/tatesfaith on Wattpad! Thanks to the Holy Spirit for helping me 🗒️🕊️✧ (Link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/367654936?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=tatesfaith 🔗🌿♡ )

[commanderfoxdeservesbetter]

What brought you back to God

Mom’s dead.

Laughter bubbles up in my chest, wretched and disbelieving. My fingers twitch, stomach turning and the hotel room seems so much lonelier when the only person to witness my breakdown is a God I forgot how to believe in.

Mom is dead and she’s not coming back.

The carpet of the room does nothing to hide how hard the wood is underneath. Neither does it provide any comfort to my butt as I sit down against the bed. Tears water my eyes, bringing a slight stinging sensation as I try to hold them back. No one is here to see me, to provide any condolences in this difficult situation, but it still seems silly to cry.

Embarrassing almost.

Crying is for the weak and I am not ...

My mom is dead. My mom is dead and it’s not even funny.

I heave out a sob, a ridiculous mockery of what laughter should sound like. My fingers tangle in the short strands of hair on my head. They pull harshly, as though pain can replace the guilt of not answering her calls.

Of ignoring her for years.

The regret pulls at my heart, intermixing with the desperate desire to justify my actions. Bring out all the excuses to explain the why.

It doesn’t stop the ongoing pressure of my heart collapsing in my chest; of the screams burning my lungs when all I can do is hold them back.

“Please,” I whisper, the first word I’ve spoken to God in months. I don’t know what I’m asking for in that plea.

Comfort, maybe. A presence so I’m not alone with this ...

This ...

My mom is gone and I can’t ever talk to her again.

[the-ellia-west]

I just Watched The Passion of the Christ

And uh...

Gained some inspo

Bits of his flesh and splatters of crimson viscera scattered the pavement beneath him, scoring the lines between the cobblestone with thick sticky pools of muscle and shredded skin

It is a servant's cross, stained in dirt and dust, yet you go to it willingly, and sacrifice yourself to a criminal's death. Why?

You have the power of God at your call yet you let them beat you like a cart horse. The skin of murderers is cleaner than yours.

You shall go to your death looking like a man who has already died many times over

The look in his eyes, dull and pained, but burning with bittersweet love brought tears to her eyes as he scraped himself to his feet and dragged on with staggered steps.

He'd never wanted anything more than just to give in and beg for their mercy or try to run. But he didn't because as much as he desired to keep his selfish, human desires, he loved all of them so much more. He loved the faces around him, scowling, taunting, crying, or smiling. He loved them all. And for that, he could bear the pain. For that, he would not run.

The criminal's eyes widened at the words and he glanced at the man, as if he were the one responsible for the cries. [] was sure no one else saw it, but the man gave the criminal a tiny smile and nodded his head once, a strange joy in his eyes that was not deceptive, but genuine. As if he were glad that this prisoner was allowed free. Even at the expense of himself, joy crept in that another was spared in his place along with a look of reserved grief at the people's taunts and cries, and a small hint of fear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" The criminal on the cross beside him cried out, gasping breaths rasping as the sun sank below the horizon.

But beaten and bloody, the man simply smiled, eyes heavy. "I love you..." he finally said. "And you are forgiven in the eyes of heaven."

The other's muscles tensed with fear as he shrank in on himself and wept. His breaths came disturbed and shallow, until sucked a breath and a prayer through gritted teeth and they ceased altogether.

Ehdudiieeuehhebrbr

I just...

Uhm...

Oof

[prettyjesusfreaks]

a portrait of hell

thinking about what hell must be like... that eternal separation from God described as Gehenna, the burning trash heap outside of the Kingdom. where all evil ends up. where the anger of God is upon you like fire. where you live in the darkness that is a life without God's light. where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

there are no dogs with bright eyes and wet noses in hell. no beautiful trees. no sunlight sparkling off the water. no flowers. i'm sure there are buildings, of course - awful manmade skyscrapers built from the black rock all around. horrible warring factions. racism. hatred. adultery. misery. everything from tapeworms to leeches in the thorny wild - but no shimmering butterflies. no birdsong to welcome the pale, filmy morning.

every once in a while, the denizens of hell may look up to the flat slab of sky and hope for God to rescue them from this chasm - but it's too late.

there are only two places you can go, in the end. you can pick up your cross and follow Jesus, or you can face the natural consequences of a life spent mired in sin. that's not what God wants for you. that's not what i want for you, either.

[3315-heretobless]

Focus

I went to Church this past Sunday and while we were singing along with the choir I was having trouble focusing on that. Little things kept catching my attention, a man raising his arms to give praise to God, a lady kneeling down to pray. I just couldn’t help but notice. So I closed my eyes and suddenly all I could focus on was singing, because I couldn’t see, only hear, and all I could hear was the music and the voices singing. 

I didn’t need my eyes to focus on singing, only my ears. I only needed to get rid of one thing, temporarily in this case, to focus. 

So maybe it is one thing, or maybe it's a lot of things, but what do you need to get rid of to help you focus properly on the things that matter in life? The Things of God?

[donnadarling]

Glass

(A poem by Donna Darling)

"Be ye holy as I am holy," He said So we know we're doing well. For Heaven knows the Holy One Never descended into Hell! Holiness never sat beside sinners Never healed their aching wounds Never drank wine, held men Never blessed the unwed womb. "Take up your crosses," He said So we wear them round our necks. Large enough for the worlds to see Small enough not to break a back Or if we want to suffer like Him A candy one we might buy. We'll fill it up with broken glass Call it martyrdom when we bleed and cry

[soonsweetheart]

So did Peter

Why did you drink it?

I begged you not to, so did Peter.

But the poison, though enticing to me

Broke your heart into a million pieces

I love you

You said, swallowing every last drop from the cup

as you winced from the

Harsh clang of metal against metal.

It made my ears hurt

Listening to you cry

Blood running down your cheeks

Your forehead

Your palms

Your feet.

I love you,

You said.

[renee-writer]

How Far?

Written for the @flashfictionfridayofficial incredible 200th prompt! How far we've come, indeed! Congratulations to us all.😁

Hey you? Yes you, the one reading this. Your awesome. Don’t think so? Think all your mistakes disqualify you from being awesome? They don’t.

 

Don’t believe me. Oh, I have such incredible news  for you then! God says you are. Really! He created you and then, wait for it… He said it was very good! Not just good. Oh, He called the stars good, the seas good, the animals, well, they’re good too.

 

But you, oh you are very good. Yes, I know, you have messed up, time and time again. You have really tried to live up to the standard He expects and you simply can’t. I know. More good news. You can’t and don’t have to do it alone.

 

He knew, even before He started speaking creation into existence, He knew you couldn’t . He created you anyway! Before the snake in the grass, before the forbidden fruit, He knew. He knew just how He would fix it.

 

A baby’s cry pierces the silence of the night. Sleepy teenage shepherds are greeted with Good News. Astronomers see a brand new star. The world is introduced to it’s Creator.

 

He came to set you free. Free from sin, doubts, fear. All the negative stuff. You prayed for forgiveness, was baptized. Yet, each day you have to ask forgiveness again. It is frustrating.

 

Don’t worry. He knows. Even those sealed with the Holy Spirit will mess up. We still live in a fallen world. But my sister, my brother, look how far you have come!

 

You strive to live a life honoring Him. You pray, read His word, meet with His people. He sees it all. It is very good.

 

Just think how far you will have come by the time He takes you home?

[squirrelsession]

Whom my soul loves

I caught a glimpse of you and I’m in complete reverence of you. You're perfect but who am I? I was too broken, too lost, too sad In my defeat and shame I built up a wall, isolating myself from the one thing that can bring me happiness. But you beckoned me from the other side. You peaked through the cracks, pursued me, and called to me, "Arise, my love, my beautiful one." You call me out of my darkness into dancing, rejoicing, and intimacy. When you look at me you don't see my flaws. You see a lily among shrubs, a jewel among rocks, a dove among crows. My heart will burn for you forever. I am my beloved's, and his desire is for me. I am a seal upon his heart and a seal upon his arm. My beloved is mine, and I am his.

[shellyscribbles]

Pharaoh

Reminiscing about my days writing songs and playing open mics. This was one of my favorites.

Pharaoh with your head so high,

You’ve usurped a throne that’s not your own.

What makes you believe you could command

That which you have not created?

Pharaoh with your head so high,

Amidst a reeking land now stained by blood.

Your barren fields and starving victims

Testify to your great fall.

Pharaoh, How long till you concede?

Egypt lies in ruin at your hands.

Pharaoh, do you still think you are king?

Your pride destroyed your kingdom.

Pharaoh can you hear their cries?

They stay locked inside on this long night.

This is your last warning,

Before you lose your son.

I walk with my head held high,

As if I knew how to rule this kingdom

I’m starting to see the cracks,

Lining the pavement.

Father, now I see,

This mess that my life lies in,

It is a mess,

Of my own creation.

Father! I now concede,

My life lies ruined at my hands.

Father, I am no king!

My pride has destroyed this kingdom.

Jesus, with Your head bowed low,

Gave up a throne that was all Your own,

You came to redeem that,

Which You had created.

Jesus, with your head bowed low,

You wept in a land stained with blood.

Laid down Your life,

To cleanse it with Your own.

Father, how long till we concede?

Our world lies ruined at our hands.

Jesus, You are the king!

Your love will restore this kingdom.

Father, You heard our cries,

As we wept through this long night.

But to save us, You lost Your Son.

[sadgirlmadgirlbadgirll]

Je ne crois pas en Dieu,

La foi chrétienne ne m’a jamais habité;

Et mes parents elle les a vite désertés;

Je ne crois pas aux prièrent aux Cieux,

Des paroles en l’aire,

Indignes de cette nouvelle ère,

Notre Père ne répondra pas;

Ce ne sont que dans les comptes qu’il existera;

Puis qand tu es perdu,

Est-ce que ton dénommé Jesus,

Homme bon et charmant,

Viens te bercer tendrement?

Assèche-t-il tes pleurs?

T’écoute-t-il quand tu te meurs?

Arrache-moi ce chapelet,

Il t’enchaîne a un patrimoine désuet;

Tu sera mieux sans lui,

Il ne t’aide point, il te nuit;

Réalise-tu que tu es prisonnier,

Que toutes tes idées, on te les a implantés?

Tes convictions, effacées?

C’est le temps de s’affranchir,

De nous même réfléchir,

De décider où mourir,

De cesser d’obéir et de subir.

[commanderfoxdeservesbetter]

Dear God

My mom is crazy.

She adopts five girls because she wants more kids. She raises us with love in her home church and teaches us about love in the form of a man. She holds her faith like a heart on a sleeve, apparent to those around her. There is no doubt growing up that Jesus is real; after all, he worked many miracles in her life.

My mom is crazy.

She’s sentimental to the point of hoarding and compassionate to the point of being a pushover. She gains new habits and changes certain behaviors but it’s okay: she is still the same woman that Christ calls to. She loves everyone and everything (it’s starting to be a flaw); she loves and loves and loves.

My mom’s crazy.

She makes no sense at times, but I can still feel her love. The problems escalate, as do the responsibility of teenagers. She eases the burden, prioritizing the bigger issues (grandkids and dogs and troubled children acting out). I’m losing ground on what it feels like to have a mother.

My mom’s crazy.

She loves her dogs more than she loves us, insistent on their unconditional reciprocation unlike us bratty kids. I just raised the question of what we have to eat today. My sister cons her of her money and tricks her with her company and my mother falls for it, wanting so desperately to be my sister’s friend. It increases my need to flee, to leave and forget what it means to be a part of this family. I lose sight of how important a mother should be.

My mom’s crazy.

I hate her so much it turns back to love. She’s the only parent I want around and yet I can’t stand to be in the same room as her. She ignores and forgets; I run and pretend. I wish I never talk to her again. (Be careful what you wish for.)

My mom’s crazy.

They’re saying it’s dementia; that she’s had it for years. It’s surprising it wasn’t caught sooner considering her personality change. I hate their declarations and hindsight observations; I hate when they talk about how different she is from twenty years ago.

My mom’s crazy (sick).

Does that excuse every action she’s done? The burden she gave up on raising us when we turned into teens? I didn’t learn how to be an adult until after I graduated college. I grew up with a sick woman and it caused so many problems. She’s the only type of mother I knew about and it’s not fair.

My mom’s crazy (sick, sick, sick).

I miss her sometimes when I don’t think too hard about what she was like. A criticism I’ll rant to my brother about but if I hear others talking shit about her …

(Sick, sick, sick!)

They didn’t grow up with her. They have no right to say that.

(Sick. Sick. SICK!)

That was my mother.

(SICK! SICK! SICK!)

She was my mom.

…

Dear God,

My mom’s sick and I don’t know what to do.

Dear God,

My mom’s dying and I don’t know how to feel.

Dear God,

My mom’s dead.

…

…

…

You’re all I have left of her, God.

Please don’t leave me too.

[aniah-who]

Safe and Sound

Something in your eyes tells me everything will be alright. All it takes is just one glance and I’m assured and certain again. The moment I pull my gaze away, the moment I set my eyes on the storm brewing around me is when the flood waters find their way in through the cracks of my faith. Gradually, the torrent rises within me. The winds pick up, sending waves of fear crashing against the walls of my fragile heart and my soul begins to ache. I can hear your soothing voice breaking through the loud.

Look at me. 

My eyes remain tightly sealed and I struggle to open them.

I’m right here. It’s okay. I’m right here, I hear your familiar whisper. 

That’s when my eyes shoot open and simultaneously meet yours. And an instant, just like that, I’m captivated and my soul is still. There’s just something about your eyes that gets me every time and I know that I’ll be safe and sound. 

I’m safe inside the ark of your love. You hide me from the waters of the flood. And though the waves may rage and stand tall, they don’t stand a match against these walls— the walls of your love will always be enough, Jesus.