Unbelief-This is Woe

The Israelites wandered in the desert because they refused to make the decision to walk by faith, and not by sight. For the children of Israel walked forty years in the wilderness, till all the people who were men of war, who came out of Egypt, were consumed, because they did not obey the voice of the LORD—to whom the LORD swore that He would not show them the land which the LORD had sworn to their fathers that He would give us, "a land flowing with milk and honey."
NKJV Joshua 5:6

Struggling in this sifting sand

with no firm ground below,

Among this crowd of nomads,

wondering in woe.

Wandering within these walls

of blue and white hot light,

Days spent walking forward,

Resting quietly each night.

Finding bread each morning

spread across the sands like dew.

Witnessing a stone being struck

and water flowing through.

Following a column

lighting one step at a time,

What now seems so uncertain,

Was it once so all divine?

My legs do not grow weary,

My clothes do not decay,

I follow, I am silent,

I do not know the way.

I'm curious about the land

beyond what I can see.

I know the land that's now behind

and burns my memory:

As fear and worry capture me

I ponder at my plight

Give voice to discontentment

And rail against this flight.

To choose to stay, or choose to slow?

But if I leave, where will I go?

Dwelling in the land now past

Freedom was my dream.

But in these walls of desert

What freedom can be seen?

I cry aloud, to God..

And pause. Wipe blinding sand aside.

I remember I was rescued

I walked through walls of tide.

My steps grow quick, a song bursts forth.

I lift my voice, now strong.

I hear the praises echo

through this great nomadic throng.

I look up to the light again-

A steady, constant glow.

And steady now my heart responds

That where it leads, I'll go.

I know now what is woe.

These are Sacred Things

Sacred things:

Keeping secrets,

Listening when you’re busy

Holding memories tight

And opening your heart.

Loving the unlovely

Smiling when you’re worn

Patiently tying a child’s shoe

And opening your heart.

For all the sacred thoughts and dreams

For holy smiles and words

For sunshine on a winter’s day

We hold our sacred things

Gently, like young children,

And sacredly open our hearts.

Jesus Can Overcome Your Thoughts

I learned that Jesus can overcome my thinking, my doubts, and my misgivings. I was working on a poem expressing the origins of earth-Yes, I did think this. I remembered that in the Bible there was a reference to giants that walked the lands. 

I asked a woman I worked with (whose husband was a minister) if I could meet with them to discuss this reference and talk about my poem. They were very kind to my hippie agnostic self. As I was leaving, the minister said to read the book of John when I had time.

OK. I was cooking dinner, sitting on a bench in my kitchen, and opened my big Catholic Bible my mom gave me when I was married. This is the result:

"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God...and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." John 1:1-14 

Agnostic eyes read these words. 
My brain translating concepts into thoughts:
Flowing electricity
Through the fortifications of all I knew.
Stunned, I stared at lilac walls,
Laced with the afternoon sun.
I sat, looking at the big book in my hand,
My brain clicking internal binary codes,
Programming inroads
Through disconnected memory files
And suddenly,
Organized sense awoke.
A veil was lifted:
I gasped, “I’m saved.”

(excerpt from my book "Believing is Just the Beginning")

God: My life and breath

You are my life and breath,

My fiber, and the basis of my being.

You are the strength in my soul,

The keeper of the courage in my heart.

In the devastation of broken dreams,

Among the ruins of unrecognized hope, 

You are the foundation for rebuilding and rebirth,

The keeper of the courage in my heart.

Your Word is like a strong arm,

Your will a wall of safety.

You are faith itself, and never-ending hope.

Though earthquakes rock my life

And split my dreams like paper

I cling to You, my constant source of strength,

Oh Lord, my hope and my eternal love.

You own my heart, and all that I have belongs to You.

What thought, or dream conceived,

Does not spring from Your creation?

I am, I am because You are,

Oh Lord. I am because You are.

 From "Believing is Just the Beginning" by Pennee Struckman

What are you trusting God to do? What is your Manna?

What is your manna? I woke this morning wondering how the Israelites felt when they were hungry, following a God they barely knew, and learning to trust Him. As Christians, we see the joy and faithfulness of God, but we still have unanswered prayers. We sometimes battle the doubts that arise in the everyday walk. This is what I imagined it was like for a mother who had no food to feed her children.

The woman could not sleep. She left her bed, checking on her children, then stepped outside the tent. The camp was dark; only a few ember fires were scattered around.

She drew her shawl around her in the early morning chill. What would she feed her family today? The figs and meal brought from Egypt were gone. Her children were hungry.

She looked at the stars, now fading in the transparent light of the dawn. She was born in captivity, and amazed as any at the deliverance from slavery, following a man she didn’t know, but trusting in her father and her husband. This God they listened to, who had parted a river while they passed on dry land, what a joyous moment that was, knowing her people were freed from bondage. But now there was the everyday journey, learning to trust a God she was unfamiliar with. And what would God do to feed her children?

She prayed, “God, I do follow you, although I am still learning. Please show me how to trust you and to know your loving kindness and truth. God of Jacob, God of my fathers, please help me feed my children.”

She walked to the back of the tent, still wondering how to learn this everyday walk with a God she was still getting to know. As she stood silently, gazing out at the vast expanse of desert, struggling to overcome the fear in her heart, she felt a gentle push on her shoulder. She looked to see where it came from.

Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly went back into the tent to wake her husband. “There is bread on the ground,” she whispered. He rose, still sleepy, “What are you saying?” “Come,” she replied.

The couple stood outside the tent and marveled that the sand was filled with bread. “Get a basket”, her husband said, and hurried off to wake the elders.

As I meditate on this, I see my manna and what I asked of the Lord. I am strengthened, knowing that God can supply all my needs. I can rest, knowing that my manna is coming.