Tweet
I can never sit and say I want to write a poem, there has to be a need from somebody for it to flow. It's almost like a message being sent and I often feel like I am some sort of conduit. I feel and hear the words as they progress, I don't think of them at all.
Some poems have been written that I could not keep a copy of because they were specific to people. When I handed the people the poems, I gave them the original and only copy. This happened twice, and both times the recipients began praising God after reading the poems. To them God had answered a prayer due to the poems contents. Some things were in the poems that I could not understand, but had great meaning to them. Again, though I wrote them with my own hand, I only remember bits of one, because the person asked me about one of the lines in the poem. I could not really answer her because I didn't know what I was writing. All I knew was that she needed to read what God's spirit was telling me. At the time I felt her spirit reaching to God, but her faith was too low to listen. Somehow sadness and almost a self pity type grief had stepped between her and her communicating with God. She didn't tell me any of this; I felt it as I walked past her office. I was stricken to write and had to do it fast.
I grabbed some paper and sat nearby as I wrote. Within 5 to 6 minutes I walked in here office and gave her the poem. Before she could finish reading the poem tears had welled up and were trickling down her face. She looked at me and asked if I was sitting outside her window spying on her. She was of course halfway joking, she knew that she had not spoken to anyone of how she felt and I could not have known. I told her that I felt something from her as I walked past, and in the same instant I felt the poem flowing.
I can only imagine that at the time, I was richly endeavoring to hear God, from his heart. I had been doing such for months on end when that poem was written. When I walked past her, I believe that due to whatever she was going through affected her faith in so much that she could not hear God. For whatever reasons, God had answered her prayer, but since she couldn't hear, God used me to tell her he was listening. She and I never spoke about the poem again, but from that day, she was never sad like she was that day again.
The poetry was never a gift to me, but a gift to anyone that needed to hear how real God is and how deep he loves. That's still how it is today. I can never write, until I am near someone that is reaching out to God and has a need. At times I have tried to write without the spirit of God drawing me, but it always turned out incomplete, missing ryme and meter, and usually did not make sense. Also when I took it upon myself to try, if Ifinished the poems at all it would take a long time as in hours or days. The other poems were all written as fast as i heard them. I really can't write unless God has something he wants to tell me or someone else.
Some poems were to increase my faith, I understand that too. Because of how the poetry flowed, I know that I am not the real author of any of them, but the author is God alone. I feel that I only hear them in my spirit, but I never quite know the direction they are going until the last line is complete. I don't believe I could quote any of them to you because they flowed from within, I never thought about what to write next. Several times I had barely finished a line when the next line or two were flowing. I never sought recognition really for several reasons, one is just as stated above; second, I never wish to offend God; and lastly, God can stop the poems at any time, and I wouldn't feel the spirit as such to give to those that seek.
I did print a small pamphlet in 1986, of poems that folks wanted. At the time, I had written and was known for writing that I was given requests for poems. I would walk away and find a quiet place, pray and ask God for guidance. In almost every case (two exceptions) God granted the poem and within minutes it was written. The exceptions though, were requests that were displeasing to God, and I was rebuked by God when I prayed. I felt his rebuke in that I had displeased him when I asked, His rebuke came immediately and I felt his spirit greave that I had asked, I did not feel his delight. One case in particular, a friend of mine wanted to commercialize the poetry. God was displeased. His spirit is for worship and never for sale.
Jesus will never fail us, and yet we fail him every day in at least one thing. A word, displaced emotion, a thought, or in partaking in what grieves his spirit. Unfortunately this is the works of the flesh, that until we are with God, we will always struggle with. Of course, this isn't something new to what you already know, but to me, it is another reason to praise him at all times. Even though we fail, he will not. I never, of course want to fail him intent fully, nor do I want to fail him by cheating or failing brethren.
True that God has placed gifts on us that are not necessarily mentioned in the Bible. As one writer puts it, if all the deeds of Christ were written, the world could not contain them. Hence, if all of the wonders of God were written, the universe would run out of space.
Some poems have been written that I could not keep a copy of because they were specific to people. When I handed the people the poems, I gave them the original and only copy. This happened twice, and both times the recipients began praising God after reading the poems. To them God had answered a prayer due to the poems contents. Some things were in the poems that I could not understand, but had great meaning to them. Again, though I wrote them with my own hand, I only remember bits of one, because the person asked me about one of the lines in the poem. I could not really answer her because I didn't know what I was writing. All I knew was that she needed to read what God's spirit was telling me. At the time I felt her spirit reaching to God, but her faith was too low to listen. Somehow sadness and almost a self pity type grief had stepped between her and her communicating with God. She didn't tell me any of this; I felt it as I walked past her office. I was stricken to write and had to do it fast.
I grabbed some paper and sat nearby as I wrote. Within 5 to 6 minutes I walked in here office and gave her the poem. Before she could finish reading the poem tears had welled up and were trickling down her face. She looked at me and asked if I was sitting outside her window spying on her. She was of course halfway joking, she knew that she had not spoken to anyone of how she felt and I could not have known. I told her that I felt something from her as I walked past, and in the same instant I felt the poem flowing.
I can only imagine that at the time, I was richly endeavoring to hear God, from his heart. I had been doing such for months on end when that poem was written. When I walked past her, I believe that due to whatever she was going through affected her faith in so much that she could not hear God. For whatever reasons, God had answered her prayer, but since she couldn't hear, God used me to tell her he was listening. She and I never spoke about the poem again, but from that day, she was never sad like she was that day again.
The poetry was never a gift to me, but a gift to anyone that needed to hear how real God is and how deep he loves. That's still how it is today. I can never write, until I am near someone that is reaching out to God and has a need. At times I have tried to write without the spirit of God drawing me, but it always turned out incomplete, missing ryme and meter, and usually did not make sense. Also when I took it upon myself to try, if Ifinished the poems at all it would take a long time as in hours or days. The other poems were all written as fast as i heard them. I really can't write unless God has something he wants to tell me or someone else.
Some poems were to increase my faith, I understand that too. Because of how the poetry flowed, I know that I am not the real author of any of them, but the author is God alone. I feel that I only hear them in my spirit, but I never quite know the direction they are going until the last line is complete. I don't believe I could quote any of them to you because they flowed from within, I never thought about what to write next. Several times I had barely finished a line when the next line or two were flowing. I never sought recognition really for several reasons, one is just as stated above; second, I never wish to offend God; and lastly, God can stop the poems at any time, and I wouldn't feel the spirit as such to give to those that seek.
I did print a small pamphlet in 1986, of poems that folks wanted. At the time, I had written and was known for writing that I was given requests for poems. I would walk away and find a quiet place, pray and ask God for guidance. In almost every case (two exceptions) God granted the poem and within minutes it was written. The exceptions though, were requests that were displeasing to God, and I was rebuked by God when I prayed. I felt his rebuke in that I had displeased him when I asked, His rebuke came immediately and I felt his spirit greave that I had asked, I did not feel his delight. One case in particular, a friend of mine wanted to commercialize the poetry. God was displeased. His spirit is for worship and never for sale.
Jesus will never fail us, and yet we fail him every day in at least one thing. A word, displaced emotion, a thought, or in partaking in what grieves his spirit. Unfortunately this is the works of the flesh, that until we are with God, we will always struggle with. Of course, this isn't something new to what you already know, but to me, it is another reason to praise him at all times. Even though we fail, he will not. I never, of course want to fail him intent fully, nor do I want to fail him by cheating or failing brethren.
True that God has placed gifts on us that are not necessarily mentioned in the Bible. As one writer puts it, if all the deeds of Christ were written, the world could not contain them. Hence, if all of the wonders of God were written, the universe would run out of space.
Comment