Welcome to ReasonFaith website. I will be posting a series of poems entitled Cinda's Psalms.
My Lord says they border on "theological erotica" but it's OK since He wrote "Song of Solomon" first.
Forest garden, sweet retreat.
Not so much across the street.
Scaffolding and scattered crowds,
boisterous and becoming loud.
Bold bright faces on the marquee
A class composer, a poet most kind,
a preacher who reaches
right into one's mind.
The Lord's Holy Spirit lingers above,
like a friend most unfathomable
providing the love.
The band members are tuning
while the crews clear the stage.
Someone's left an umbrella
and a newspaper page.
The third oboe's been cut
in a final revision,
which has caused quite a stir
and orchestral division.
A change now arranged
for the musician's transition.
But God smiles on the performers
as the Diviner of Days.
The Lord knows how it goes on the road
of right ways.
Each note must be perfect,
every instrument tuned.
Having one chair too many,
can mean the symphony ruined.
Not every musician is needed today.
But tomorrow the oboe might just get to play.
Placing petulant people, a most difficult task.
But then again, depending when
and upon whom you might ask.
Steamer trunk, locked inside
envy, anger and jealous pride.
Destination yet unknown,
but for certain someone's own.
Stuck on labels, lock and key,
picture perfect destiny.
Passion, peace, adventure, fame,
out of reach and free of shame.
Purchased ticket, ransomed ride,
but God has yet to come alongside.
Ship pulls in, seven stories high,
chains overboard, as I wonder why.
Blast of horn, feeling reborn.
Fulfillment of hope, dropping anchor and rope.
I check my watch, luggage on a trolley.
Doubting myself and this foolish folly.
I stomp my foot; His promise made!
Trip planned in fact last Labor Day.
Where is my confidant and King?
Was there something I should bring?
God's high on a hilltop, looking around.
Finding a stairway from which to come down.
Face fierce with frustration,
His sigh bends the skies,
Fire and ice pouring out of His eyes.
Pier full of people He can't recognize,
The cheater repeaters and folks who tell lies.
But at last He has seen me
standing out on the deck.
Looking lost and alone
a scarlet scarf round my neck.
And He sneaks up behind me
and pulls me in tight.
My shock and amusement,
His favorite delight.
Though long overdue,
we seem to forget.
Love's made stronger taking longer,
when there's no room for regret.
The ship can set sail now.
We cast off in a breeze.
His demeanor now making me
weak in the knees.
And all is in order,
as everyone sees.
Infatuation, faith divine,
a tiny tethered space in time.
When my passion is to pause and pray
my soul is suddenly swept away
by acolytes of Christ my King,
who truly rules over everything.
I fight to focus, but it's hard to do,
when my mind and heart gets spent on You.
No matter the message or passage or prayer.
You are right at my ear
whispering "Come here, my dear."
So I lay down devotions and set aside psalms
while your transient touch carresses and calms.
My spirit is willing, it's my flesh testifies
for one look in Your eyes
and my soul starts to rise.
We are headed to Heaven.
You are clearly the way.
In the palm of Your hand
there's simply nothing to say.
It is all about You now,
every chapter and verse.
We go deeper and darker
with every blessing and curse.
It's a place that St Paul went.
He said so himself.
But to speak of such splendor
is forbidden wealth.
So we ride in the realm
of Your glory and grace.
Til I feel Your form fading and
great joy on Your face.
A chapel could not Your presence contain.
A celestial sermon called out in Your name.
But an hour in hiding, providing
pleasure and pain
gives a kind of connection where
A Christian communion
which You and I claim.
When the world is at rest,
the Lord Jesus takes leisure.
No matter our worry
we must pause for His pleasure.
He takes of our talents to task
or to treasure,
but if God calls you out,
be there now, not whenever.
There are days to be sure
when God seems far from flock.
But I assure you, dear believer
God is there, round the clock.
The Lord listens and ponders
our pitiful pains,
then goes off to His chambers
while it thunders and rains.
But a rainbow He sets
in a sorrowful sky.
Because God sees our hearts,
and our souls and our minds.
Sending angels for our anguish
bringing help of all kinds.
Sometimes we're admonished
Most often God aids.
Indirectly, but correctly and
with forethought well played.
Knowing full well His promise
that our sin-debt's been paid.
So when God seems so distant
or asleep at Heaven's helm,
Rest assured, you'll be cured
when His thoughts leave the Realm.
In the blink if an eye
God's word will overwhelm.
Outside a mission, iron gates are locked.
Damn train delayed past 5 o'clock.
Brown paper bag holding all I own,
now torn in half; no food, no phone.
A bearded bum sits on the ground.
He asks if I am new in town.
Dark fear sets in as the sun sets fast.
I turn and run from visions past.
Dear God, I pray, where are you please.
Don't make me fall down on my knees.
They stole my stuff, they stole my home.
Why would you leave me all alone?
How did I even get so lost?
Who can I call at such a cost?
You are my only help and hope,
life being such a slippery slope.
Then from my heart a voice so clear.
God spoke directly in my ear.
"An ounce of prevention, a pound of cure.
But, your sins are forgiven, your soul made pure.
A place, be safe, now go in peace.
I'll stay with you, love, I hold the keys."
"The night is long, but the sun will rise.
In time, this too, will make you wise,
and open even blind mens' eyes
to the mercies of God. Be not surprised."
Starry night, adrift at sea.
We are sailing out of Galilee.
Below the deck on starboard side,
alone with Yeshua at evening tide.
The cabin still and smelling of salt.
It's cool and damp and we are free to a fault.
We lie together peering out
a porthole window as we cruise about.
On a barrel neaby rests wine and cheese.
His cup turned over; He is looking pleased.
But a storm erupts - wild thunder collides.
He grasps the sides of the berth astride.
"Be stll," He commands, "I Am Inside."
His look, that look, most intensified.
The ship so silent the wood beams creak.
I wait for His words, but He does not speak.
He cups His palm around my cheek.
"Beloved," He grins,
"I will walk on water to
be back next week."
King David Street, the new hotel.
50th birthday of Israel.
Holy, blameless and above reproach.
Cinderella arrives with her coach.
End of pool, no one in sight.
God takes my hand as we swim into the night.
Fireworks; the Prime Minister speaks!
Room service late, but on the Sabbath He sleeps.
A day to remember, a vow to someday renew.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem with no one but You.
Cinda Smaagaard is a published author living in Eugene, Oregon.
In 2000 she wrote "A Logical Approach to God" a collection of faith and reason essays while a graduate student at Gonzaga University published by Vantage Press. She is currently working on a series of poems entitled "Cinda's Psalms." @2015 Cinda Smaagaard All Rights Reserved. No reprints without permission.