by Rebekah Jones
I sit and watch someone so dear
Who once had claimed the Narrow Way.
I see them let the Tempter play
And slowly all their longings sway.
They say they have nothing to fear;
They justify the wrong to right.
They go on until they no longer steer
Away from wrong – they run to it on sight.
First, they justified one step to lead
Towards the Devil’s sinful cord,
Delighting; then they leave their Sword
And soon they’re running from the LORD.
What had been planted with one deed
Has grown beyond what they could tell.
With backs to God, they their sin feed
And laugh as they, their souls do sell. Continue reading
As part of her blog tour for the release of her new book, The Case of the Tabloid Tattler, author Perry Elisabeth Kirkpatrick has allowed Holy Worlds to share the first chapter of the book.
Enjoy! And enter to win the book at the end of this post!
Keith was rambling again. And his theory was so boring a mere yawn couldn’t express my feelings well enough. I was getting up to go hide under the bed when he said, “I just don’t know, Kitten. What do you think, huh?”
It was that silly way he’d been talking to me ever since I’d shown up on his doorstep three weeks ago. He’d been telling me every detail of every case, every hunch he had, not actually expecting me to reply. “He’s lucky I’m not a spy,” I told myself, “or from the press!”
Spy. Now there was a good idea. Continue reading
There’s an awful scary spider hiding underneath my bed.
I cannot sleep, it’s watching me, I wish that it were dead.
Its hairy, crawling, little legs I’m sure that I can hear:
A scratching, scrabbling, seeking sound; I know it’s drawing near.
His pointed fangs a vicious grin as he hunts down his prey.
His glinting black and evil eyes I know look right this way.
What can I do? I can’t escape without him seeing me.
For if I move, he may just bite and eat me for his tea. Continue reading
by Calista Beth Mimetes
Lord, make me a window
Letting light to prison cells
Let me be a channel
Bringing hope where darkness dwells
Oh, make me a window
Whatever else You do
Make all I am transparent
So that all You are shines through
by Jonathan Lovelace
“Hail, Poetry—” No, that’s not (truly) right,
For poetry is a created thing;
It did not take up pen and write itself.
We should not hold it up to wild acclaim,
As though it were some minor, lesser God,
And yet neglect the mind that gave it thought.
Instead, we should give greatest thanks to God:
Whose Spirit moves in futile human minds
To make them capable of fitting praise;
Who spoke all that exists, or ever will,
From formless, timeless nothing into being;
And whose Word took on our human flesh.
Yes, that Word well deserves our praise,
To whom all honest human poets point.
Jonathan Lovelace posts on Holy Worlds as “kingjon.”
by Ophelia – Marie Flowers
When at last I close the cover
Of my frayed life’s book
And I flip back through the pages
To take a reflective look,
I pray to see God’s glory
Scrawled throughout each faded page –
To know I lived the fullest,
No matter life’s end age.
When ‘The End’ is finally written
I want to see my “Once upon a time”
And see how God had given
Each day that I called mine.
I pray to see God’s glory
Shining out from what I gave
To see I left a legacy
That reaches out beyond the grave.
When I look back at the story,
Touching each worn word,
And I smile at the laughter
Or the times my heart felt stirred,
I pray to see God’s glory
Even in the times I fell
And to hear my Master say,
“Dear one, you’ve done well.”
There’s something so beautiful about a man’s life
Something so remarkable about his inward strife.
There’s something that fills us as we read about the saints of old
Something that makes us inspired, encouraged, bold.
We read and hear of their failures and falls
We see how yet again they rise up, giving it their all.
By their faithful endurance we are greatly inspired
In their great spiritual battles we see them fight against how they were wired.
There’s something so beautiful about their past, stained with blood
And yet something so crumbling about how along with Christ they’ve been dragged through the mud.
Oh how we see such worth in a life spent out for Christ
Oh how that Holy Name has cost them such a price. Continue reading
by Captain Nemo Marlene
Two years ago, the night before Easter, my dad, older sister and I attended a Passover service. We were curious about the proceedings and how it applied to the last supper. As we prepared to go to the service, I grew nervous. What were these people like? Will they accept us? Or will they point us out as different from them? How reverent should I be? How should I behave? I didn’t really view the Jews as “people” like myself, but more people from an ancient time. And I thought that the Passover was going to be a very reverent service—very serious and solemn; I just didn’t know what to expect. When I arrived, though, my perspective shifted completely. Continue reading
I saw a star shine in the sky,
Its glowing red, it caught my eye.
The colour strange, I wondered why
A crimson tinge would hail it nigh.
It bade me ponder, by and by:
Was it just born, or soon to die?
A mystery, it sails up high –
A lonely sparkle on the fly. Continue reading
by Airianna Valenshia
Due to recent discussions between myself and others, I decided to write a mini blog series consisting of two parts that addressed the importance not only of a child’s imagination, but also the important role that fantasy and fairytales play in the life of both children and adults. Part one of this series focused on the imagination, while part two will focus on the virtues of fantasy and fairytales.
So, let us continue our series with part two.
For starters, though, I would like to draw upon the words of a handful of great men and women who will say, far better than I, why the use of fairytales is so important for the mind of a child. Continue reading