Rhythmic water weeps,
Pizzicato raindrops. Sing
Sweet heartbreak of spring.

I am Yours; save me.
I'd not be any other's.
Save me; I am Yours.



Lilies of the Valley

May we wither in the shadow of Your cross,

And as our forms are melting into Yours

May Your blood-drops scatter

Like seeds on the winds of our wastelands.

Then may we spring up like lilies,

Heads bowing heavy with purity,

All through the green, green valley

Of Your sufferings.

*artwork by Mary Delany, "Convallaria Majalis"


January Trees

When sin is all there ever seems to be,
A dirty blood polluting all my deeds,
I'm comforted by what You want from me -
To fling myself on You in all my needs.

Though I feel like I don't know what to do,
Uncertain and alone, I know one thing -
A Surety still stands, a Savior, You.
With each note of my sin, still Mercy sings.

I know I'll dance my whole life to this sound.
As bright'ning January tree limbs yawn,
Like peach trees, pink-limbed, reach from snowy ground,
My heart here beats and flushes for that dawn -

The everlasting glories of Your grace
And the blood-stained beauteous sunrise of Your face.


Drown Me

In the gentle ripples of Your faithfulness
Drown me.

In the wild lapping of Your jealousy
Drown me.

In the raucous crashing of Your laughter
Drown me.

In the sea of your steadfast love
In the waves that sing like the heaves and sighs of cellos
Drown me.

In the wine that I hold
In the blood red cup
          sweeter than summer roses
Drown me.

  *painting detail from Manet's "Rochefort's Escape"


The best kind of blackberries

The best kind of blackberries
are the warm, dark, and fragrant,
the generous ones
that fall into your fingertips
and bleed between them,
that burst between your lips
into roses.


When after all of this

When after all of this we finally stand
Upon a crystal sea that's paved with blood,
How will we wonder that Your faithful hand
Did not release us to the hungry flood
Of wrath we churned and churned with our own sin?
When we are saved upon that final day,
Knowing You are all it's ever been,
And knowing we've been carried this whole way
By One who wears a rainbow on His head,
Though sin should claim us as its very own,
When You return or we're at long last dead
And as Your sheep acknowledged, loved, and known,
How special it will be for us to see
Each beat of Your great heart was bent toward mercy.


Surprised by Spring: A Song

Though spring has almost ended, I wanted to share a song I wrote this season while taking a songwriting course. The “eucatastrophe” (to borrow Tolkien's term) of peace with God through Christ, God's revelation and Word, and the consolation of His active and free love inspired me. Despite the fact that it's unmixed and unprofessionally recorded, I hope you enjoy this little something different!

You unveil Your glory
A love-scented Word
And make me in love with You
With You, with the sight
Of Your radiant Face,
This startling grace
Like jasmine at midnight.

You found nothing lovely
But Your love creates
Righteousness without works.
In You, Grace and Truth,
I reap not what I've sown but
This hope against hope
Like Lenten roses
Lifting their heads from the snow.

I am weak-kneed at the cleanness You offer,
And I am undone over how You have suffered
And ripped top to bottom the curtain in two,
Removing the barrier between me and You.

The invisible seen,
As touchable as
Magnolia petals
Crushed, bleeding with sweetness,
Scattered all over the ground.