A Christmas Poem

by Steve Loggins

12/21/09

Mystery of God Incarnate, a babe in manger lay

In humble cave of Bethlehem, the One He sent to save

the world from man’s own folly, God now condescends

to shrink Himself to mortal flesh, to renew us as His friends.

O Blessed night of Coming! His advent to this earth

of sin and shame and heartache, such promise in His Birth!

We have someone to save us, from all that we may do

This little Babe, no sin has He, the First Man made anew.

The shepherds are the only ones to hear the angels sing

that God has come to Bethlehem, a stable holds The King,

Emmanuel, Messiah born, the Christ Child fully here

O blessed night of happening! A night to calm our fear.

A maiden fair, a handsome man, entrusted with His care

They have no home, no place to go, only the clothes they wear

Troubled times, with dangers near, the First family embarks

On a journey of faith that culminates with Jesus on a cross.

So now it starts, this Holy night of serene nativity,

The star is lit to guide the way for men to come to Thee.

A December Rose

A December Rose

By Steve Loggins

12/6/09

Rushing from the house to car to get where I must go,

Wondering if I have the time to do what I must do,

Suddenly I spy a Rose, in times when nothing grows,

For December’s here, and cold has come, its death is overdue.

I pause to look, to see its strength, and smell aroma sweet,

For it should not be, its time is past, but here it is for me

To see and touch and wonder at, for roses cannot beat

the cold of winter and how the earth makes times for growing flee.

This moment’s here, a brief respite from death, in glory stands

A Rose with outstretched petals fair, with beauty on display

For all the world who cares to stop, this rose makes no demands

It only grows and fulfills its goals of growing in the day.

“Stop the world from turning”, I cry, “make this moment last”

But it cannot be, only in my memory, can this rose truly live

Forever in its beauty and fragrant winter’s past

A future pressed in a book I hold, this rose will always give.

A December Rose, an unlikely time, to pause and see the world

And know the times, and hold the day, to claim what we all know

Instinctively, that life is short, our days are few, unfurled

Like petals of a rose that wait to embrace tomorrow’s snow.

A kiss of death, of finality, will tomorrow’s ice then bring,

The Rose will die, its petals fall, only…wait until the Spring.

A tree for the Ages

A Tree for the Ages

by Steve Loggins

11/28/09

Trees are cut all the day for every kind of reason,

To build a home, to make a fire, to celebrate the season.

 

Trees are a gift from God to us, they help renew the earth,

From falling leaf that compost makes, to acorns giving birth

To mighty oaks that reach the sky for nesting eagles’ homes,

And sheltering holes for bird and beast and insects’ honeycombs.

 

A tree may grow straight and tall, or crooked, dwarfed and small,

It may be hard or soft inside, yet saw and axe will make it fall.

 

We use its wood for many things, both beautiful and base,

For noble things like bridges built, yet sometimes things disgrace

 

An arrow may fly to kill a man, or bring home winter’s meat

The wood may burn to light the way, or fill a house with heat

 

A conflagration may result where all we own’s consumed,

Then a tree is felled and milled to build on more and bigger rooms.

The tree is prized for what it is and what to us it brings,

Its fruit can feed us, its roots can heal us or snuff out living things.

Of all the gifts the tree has borne to us who owe it so

The best is The Gift of sacrifice that the Son of God bestowed

On Calvary’s brow, a tree once stood, with crimson stain and thorn,

A testament of grace from God, brought by His only Son.

With outstretched arms and iron nails, a tree felt his Maker die

And if a tree could only weep, I’m sure this tree would cry.

Not knowing that God’s plan for man and all of flawed creation

Would be delivered by His blood, this tree’s sad decoration.

It is a tree for the ages, it stands outside of time,

No one can praise its beauty for its purpose is Divine

I’m sure the tree of life that roots in waters from God’s throne

Has kinship to this tree of death where Jesus died alone.

For you and me, and all who come to take of Calvary’s gift

This tree of knowledge of His grace, no longer set adrift

A rugged cross, amazing grace, such songs we sing today

Because a tree once held our God who took all our sins away.

Winter's Coming

Winter’s Coming

Once the leaves begin to change, and the seasons start to wind,

Awareness that the world has turned embarks upon our mind.

The days grow short, and a chill ensues, a little at a time,

With a vigor for us to opt to see... or ignore the signs

That winter’s coming – all too soon, for some of us - we sigh

Longing for those summer days, filled with happy times.

Winter can be a bitter place, with nothing left to find

Or a time and place of love for all things God has intertwined.

It is our choice to hate or love the wintry Days of life,

But icy days can offer, too, some memories with spice,

It is our choice to linger in, or run outside to play,

In Winter’s wonder land of joy in bleak and snowy days

The seasons of our life turn 'round each and every year

The years roll on and soon we find that winter's growing near

In life’s grand plan for every man, in sorrow and in cheer,

We make a choice to love our life, or hate the times we fear.

Embrace your life in summer’s day, the fall, and winter too

Love every season of every year, as a gift from God to you

Without the spring, no flowers bud, the world becoming new,

But winter’s cold helps make it work for all things, God’s review.

Winter’s coming – it’s a fact – for all folks young and old,

Some live the day, some try to stay in summer days of gold,

But this one thing is clear to us – His blessings are foretold,

No matter what the season brings – in winter’s days of cold –

Or breezy days of autumn’s might – He’s always Nature’s Lord.

Temptation's Song

Temptation’s Song

by Steve Loggins

11/9/09

Faintly comes the notes of song across the turgid sea,

strains so sweet we long to hear, to know their source, to see

what could make such vibrant sounds, with craving desire to me,

I want to know!  To hear it more, in its sensuality.

Jib the sail! Put out the oars! Give way to the wind and run

as fast as we can to the root of our lust, for the freedom to have fun,

Despite the cost, we press quickly on, our labors left undone,

The Siren’s song is all that counts, the world now counts as none.

No thought to wife, or sleeping babe, who rest in harbors far,

the song is sung that drive men mad, that forge out prison bars

from man’s own appetite for more, those things that lead to scars

for friend, and family, and self; a man will chase a star.

The consequence is never viewed the way it always ends,

upon the rocks our ship is dashed, no hope to make amends

for mistaken chords of screeching noise that lure us to descend

From safety’s heights to depths of woe, no place that we intend.

Yet on we go, the tempter’s song seems sweet and rare and dear,

we chase a phantom love of self, the song is what we fear,

we think that we will never have it all, our lives will be severe,

without the song to follow, to chase, to give us cheer.

It is but lies, the tempter’s song, he promises the moon,

but always pays his debt to those who listen, all to soon,

with imitations of the real, with a bandy silly tune

instead of symphonies outpoured by masters opportuned.

Resist the urge to listen to the song that leads away

from that we know is better, the path that leads to Day,

To light and hope and life and love, a love that always stays,

No shipwrecked souls are found here. He saves them all who pray.

Galilee

Introduction:  I wrote this poem originally in early 1977 right after I came back from Israel. I was thinking about the beauty of the Sea of Galilee - I actually only wrote 4 stanzas at that time and set it to music (pitiful, really pitiful) - I pulled the dusty words from my all too feeble memory banks and added two more quatrains and now it is a poem I wanted to share!  I also tweaked a few lines in the original first stanza.

Storms on Galilee

by Steve Loggins

stanzas 1,2,5,6 written in February of 1977

stanzas 3 & 4 written 10/25/2009

The morning mist hangs low upon the sea of Galilee,
The rising sun will scatter it away,
Reflected glory of the sun plays out upon the waters
of the lake that looks and acts like its a sea.


The beauty of this site both blessed and cursed by God’s own breath
is stunning in its simple serenity,
It is difficult to comprehend the suddeness of stormy wrath
that grips this jewel in raging foamy fury.


The storms that come to Galilee roll down from mountain heights,
in moments seas once glassy still are churned
To waves that threaten man and beast who brave the stormy night
To sail where God alone would dare return.


Men hardened to the threat that Galilee can quickly make
are rowing on the lake for its His will,
The storm descends and makes the waters boil and undulate
while He alone is sleeping in the keel.


The Master stilled the storm with just a spoken word or two,
while fear-filled followers watched with awe-struck eyes,
His sleep-filled eyes grew cold with disappointment for to know
their faith in Him was little, or a lie.


We all can learn a lesson from the sea of Galilee,
To let the master calm our stormy soul
and though we doubt His awesome might, He still is in control
of our destiny, our troubled hearts made whole.

On Death and Dying

On Death and Dying

by Steve Loggins

10/12/09

There are many ways to die, some harsh, some full of pain,

like lemmings to the sea we run, toward death from life mundane,

It need not be, for death has died, and life now reigns supreme

Through Christ the son, the only one, whose death to life redeems.

The pain of death is left to us who live the temporal dream.

Facing death in certainty with the courage some have shown,

living last moments with dignity, a testimony we all should own,

But some do not, for death is harsh, and full of pain, and loss

for those who do not know the Lord - or understand His cross

They trade their life for death and realize not the cost.

For in losing life we gain it, and gain it for all time,

Instead of eighty years or so, our life becomes divine,

and Eternity is ours to have, in a freedom of His grace,

to live life as it should be lived, death is now replaced

with love and joy and peace within, sin has been erased.

Death is not harsh, nor full of pain, save for those who stay,

who cannot know the joy of life as lived in an eternal day,

We mourn for us, for we are here, in time and space and dust,

Corruptible flesh in a corruptible place, a place of death and rust,

and certainty of this one fact, Death will one day come for us.

And when God’s child comes to the day when he must say goodbye

to all those left to live the dream in this world wherein we cry,

We do so with the faith of one who knows the Father and His Son,

and knowing this, we have this hope, and surety that we have won,

and not just us, but all we love who have trusted in what God has done.

Death has no sting or triumph over God-spawned new creation

The old is gone, the new is born, through death to life a realization

of what is True, and what should be, of what we have always craved

a life with God as the center of us, a life without a grave

and... a land called Heaven....the home for all He saved.

(this poem dedicated to Shirley Reid, my secretary,

who knows no longer the pain of living... only the joy of it!)

Ghosts

Ghosts

By Steve Loggins

October 3, 2009

Ghosts of things we once held dear may visit any time,

Memories of joy and fear come calling, stay to dine

Reminding us of what we lost or wanted, never had

Making chill a warmer day, turning glad to sad.

Ghosts can scare us without cause, and never meaning to,

Or rise in nights of hellish haunts, with screams, and chains, and “boo”

A ghost is but a lingering shade of something gone away,

Yet never leaves completely, the past returns today.

Sometimes the ghost is faintly known with nothing but a whisper,

At other times they howl and weep, disturbing our night’s slumber

Or shadow us from day to day, reminding us of them

A poltergeist of harm to life, a focus on the “then”

Some want the ghosts, preferring them to living friends and kin,

A trap ensues for nothing good can ever come of him

Who cannot be alive again, in this sphere, only grim

A shadow of the real world, a spider’s web of “when”.

We must say goodbye to all our ghosts, who loiter in the way

Of living life and loving it, of walking in the day

Some ghosts are good to recognize, and wave to as they pass

But make none into houseguests, or prisoners held fast

For soon they are the jailers, and prisoners are we

With ghostly chains and bonds that forge from our own memory

The only Ghost we need to ask to stay with us always

Has a name called Holy, He frees us, no delays.

The Ghost of God is different from all that we have known

He’s ever present, living, true, a power He has shown

The breath of God, the source of life, the spirit of the One,

The inner dwelling life of God the Father and the Son

This Ghost is kind, and wants for us, the best things life can bring

He always points to goodness, to doing the right thing,

He guides, He leads, He formulates, the way of redeemed living

To God alone our praises bring, Thanks to His Ghost, we can sing!

Hide-And-Go-Seek

Hide-and-Go-Seek
By Steve Loggins
9/8/09


Five, ten, fifteen, twenty; on The Seeker’s count goes,
Where the hider runs to hide, only the hider knows.

A children’s game, yet one we play as adults every day,
Hiding from The Seeker in business, leisure, play….

Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty; the time to hide grows short
With desperate look around us, we search for some support.

For when The Seeker finishes, His count and turns around,
If we’re exposed to His chasing touch as Seeker, then we’re bound.

Forty–five, Fifty, Fifty-five, Sixty; the numbers climb so fast,
While we look for a hiding place, a place we think will last.

But there’s no place in this whole world where hiders can conceal
Their presence from The Seeker, His turning will reveal.

Sixty-five, seventy, seventy-five, eighty; the game’s as good as on
For The Seeker’s gaze is always true, He knows where we have gone.

And in truth, He is already seeking to save the lost and hid,
He is climbing the vales and mountains where straying sheep have slid.

Eighty-five, ninety, ninety-five, A Hundred! The count is now complete
He turns around but never says “Ollie’,Ollie’, All set free”

For The Seeker knows the rules, and no one can run to “base”
Without His touch, and becoming “It” – a child who wears His face.

Who in turn becomes a seeker too, of sorts, yet not the same,

For The Seeker alone, He never hides, He’s the master of the game.

No Graveyards in Heaven
By Steve Loggins
9/6/09

A graveyard tells many stories, of life and death and hope
A place where people come to mourn, a place where people cope
With loss of friends and family, of dear ones gone away,
The graveyard never asks us if we are having a pleasant day.

Graveyards know we’re coming, to visit or to stay,
Tombstones tell the years of our life above where remnants lay.
Sometimes, we hear a clarion ring; tolling, tolling, tolling the hour
Reminding of the passing time, a limitation of temporal power.

A funeral procession eases in, with lights aglow, and solemn hymn,
The casket lowers into the earth, a fist of sod with faces grim,
The time has come to say goodbye to mother, father, friend,
And many see the graveyard as the closing of life, the end.

This is why so many shun the place, and make up horror tales
Of graveyards haunts and ghostly face, of acts where the living fell
Into the hands of those who died, yet never really left,
But stayed behind for things undone, for promises not kept.

But graveyards hold no mystery to children of the King,
We understand that there’s a place beyond it where we sing.
There are no graveyards in heaven, no sorrow or parting there,
For those who know the Savior’s love, a reunion in the air.

With all the chosen ones who went through graveyards in the past,
To the city far greater, far nobler, than a world that cannot last.
No death, decay, corruption there; untainted by man’s sin
Only joy and love and peace, and worship from within.

It’s funny when you think of it, how life eternal came
Through a graveyard in a garden, eternity’s not the same
Since He conquered death forever, no graveyard can ever win
Despite the fear we have of it, We’ve His victory over sin.

Praise to the One

Praise to the One
By Steve Loggins
9/5/09


Give Glory to God the Father, give Praise to God the Son,
All Hail to the Guiding Spirit of God, The Triumvirate of One,

We bow before Your Presence, concede your Omnipotent Self,
We are but dust, made of the earth, a reflection of Your wealth

You, who flung the stars in Space, who made the universe,
Descends to earth in human form, born of one accursed,

By Eve’s great folly and Adam’s Sin, a fallen race embarked
On a history of war against the very God who sparked

Life into an empty shell of water and of clay,
We only have an intellect as His image stays

Intact, in part, upon us – tho’ twisted by our guilt
Restored once more by You, by Your own blood that spilt

We Praise You, We Honor You, We Glorify Your Being
Your Majesty and Greatness is revealed in everything

Good and Bad, we understand that evil is but a tool
By which your Grace can be exposed to all men, kings and fools

You are the Only One, there is none to Praise
No other “god” who is worthy, no one else to raise

Our hands in supplication, our voices sing Your song
For You alone, For You alone, For You alone are God.

My Rescuer

Rescue
by Steve Loggins
8/17/09


I push my way to the top of the wall,
I sputter and gasp and give out a call,

“I’m drowning!” I cry, in a sea of despair
I sink in the waves, doesn’t anyone care?

With desperate lunge, I surface again,
An infinite moment of gasping for air,

But all too soon the waters will reach
And pull me under, so far from the beach

Where safety lies in sun and sand,
I resign to my death, then..... in plunges a hand,

And grasps me firm and lifts me up,
Onto the waves, where air I then gulp,

I look at The Rescuer, His eyes and mine meet,
“You have only to ask... now, stand on My feet”

His feet, though they’re scarred, do not sink in the waves,
They hold up us both, and for all who He saves,

I look at the sea; there are more in the deep,
Bobbing and struggling, for most - death will reap

For many refuse to call out to the One,
Who can rescue them all through the work of His Son.

Instead, they will say, “I can handle this myself.”
“I do not need a rescue, my strength is my wealth”

And others will trust in floating debris,
Or boats, or yachts, in the angry seas

But I will trust in Him who came
And put me on The Land again.

His strength is true, I cannot drown
And at His feet, I throw my crown

To my Rescuer

Light in Darkening Times
By Steve Loggins
6/9/09
Darkness gathers as storm clouds fly,
a Gloom ensues around the sky.
Wind and Rain, their fury unleashed
Times of wonderment, times of grief
Huddled deep within the wall
While hearing booming thunder call
Lightning splits the sky above
Instant brightness frames our love
With upturned face we look for hope
Some sign that we can start to cope
With darkness, danger, uncertain days,
Then blackness comes to block our way
Of seeing if there is relief
To come to our poor soul’s belief
That there is more than darkness now
That light still shines beyond the clouds
And there it is! A pinpoint beam
Lances through the rain and steam
A brief reminder of the day
Of joy, of peace, and things that stay
The storm will pass, the wind is gone
We will survive - yet not alone
The One who made the storm clouds fly
He is with us – we ask Him "why?"
"Why do we have the darkened days
With devastation in the way?"
He replies with a knowing nod,
"The light shines brightest…" answers God,
When the darkness is the canopy,
On which I paint my tapestry,
Of beauty and of majesty."
"What would a rose be without its thorn?"
"Or a sea without its waves?"
The beauty of a diamond is shown
Best against an ebony enclave
So it is with blessings and the hurricane we meet
The storms make us appreciate the idyllic and the sweet
It takes both sides to craft a coin
Without the one only half is joined
We see the best by seeing the worst
We enjoy the most by having the least.
God knows this… and smiles.

Ashes to Glory
By Steve Loggins 4/8/08
　
The budding of the trees in spring remind me of Your grace,
With life from death, and new from old, a resurrection taking place.
The flowers bloom in Springtime too, rising from the dust,
Pushing their way through barren soil, reveling in their lust
For rain and sun – the stuff of life, that warms and feeds their growth
From dormant seed and hardened bulb…. To beauty and majestic worth.
　
Some say it’s just a cosmic joke, an accident of time and space,
That gave rise to life and growing things – the size, the tilt, the moon in place
All combined with some primordial soup of chemicals and ooze,
That Chance made life and complex form from simpler ones…. They’re fools!
One look outside my bedroom glass reveals to me much more
Than all the microscopes and tests that come from scientific lore.
　
Nay, life is Yours to give and take – You gave rise to all we see
Intelligent Design is manifest and screams at us in everything
From the budding of a rose to the bee which pollinates,
To changing seasons and pulsing stars – Your power to create
Reveals to us Your character, Your nature, Your intent –
Tho’ flawed by sin – Your glory within each facet of the cosmos sent
Like Phoenix from the ashes rise – Your grandeur shines throughout the skies
Newborn each day, your Glory stays – reflecting love in every way –
I bow in worship - I gaze in wonder – I live in amazement – of You…
　

Musings on the Eternal
written 7/22/08

When creatures of a finite time encounter such a Being

As You that live from Ages past, Who created everything

We have but one response that counts, that is valid in Your sight

To lose our shoes and collapse in awe before Your brilliant light.

Some clench their fist and swear to stand upon their own two feet

But in the end, they’ll know the truth – before the Judgment Seat

Others cry that You are gone, or were never really there

And that man created You instead to fill some instinctual tear.

And there are those who simply want the temporal to stay

Forever as it looks to them, each and every day.

With eyes so blind to grandeur Adam reciprocates

With a choice to stay with Eve again, Our failing demonstrates

A Need for things Eternal – of Grace and Power and Love

Of aspects of Forgiveness – of character from Above

This mortal life we try to live – with just a fleeting breath

Is nothing – nay, nothing at all – without You - only death.

Eternal One

The Love

"The Love"
By Steve Loggins
February 15, 2007
(revised, 7-23-08)
　
　
　
　
To what shall I with merely words compare the matchless love of God?
How can mortal tongue proclaim what angels in their chorus fail aloud?
Shall I say His love is like an arrow shot from Heaven’s bow to earth,
To pierce the heart of man below so we might know it’s awesome worth?
Or maybe I should, as others may, compare it to a seed –
That grows relentlessly within our hearts – fulfilling all our needs.
Sometimes it seems, His love is soft – like morning dew on spider’s silk,
Sometimes it rages from aloft – like thunder and lightning in the dark.
God’s love – inexhaustible, inexpressible, incomparable, indefatigable –
God’s Love – unfailing, unchanging, unbelievable, unimaginable –
No, words cannot express the depth, the span of our God’s love outpoured –
Nothing I can speak or write comes near to say, "God so loved the world" –
His love for you – for me – for us, can only be supposed
By a Cross, three nails, a crown of thorns – and a willing son – our Lord.