Shaken Awake

My farm-girl life didn’t afford discovery of my interests through school. Or maybe it was because my schooling never sparked in me an interest for prose. I recall enjoying a bit of learning about stanzas and rhythm and rhyme, but I think it started and ended in middle school.

There is definitely a bent in my family for rhyming jingles. My great uncle Bill taught us several little tunes we’d sing together while we tossed hay to the cows. They often erupt from memory during times of silliness with my grandchildren. Therefore, I’m not surprised by my love of rhyme. Though I might be surprised a little by my growing interest in penning words that require more than reading.

Never have I considered myself a poet. But I love to write things that seem like poems to me.

A Few Things I Noticed About Poetry

Poetry requires lingering and thinking and imagining.

Poetry appeals to the heart. There is rich complexity in the depths of a poet’s observations. The use of fewer words to convey larger ideas intrigues me.

A poem is like a song with no music, I think. Or perhaps a painting without brushstrokes . . . or color.

The Gift Of Time And Going Deep

Some say I am a deep thinker. Last time we had lunch, I was a bit startled when my friend Carol said, “I love to hear how you think.”

My life as an a stay-at-home-empty-nester allows me ample time to read and pray and process. It’s rare that I take less than four hours as the sun brings in the day. The fact that I have that privilege compels me to share what I get time to see.

I recently told you of the devotionals that have captivated me and spurred me to think more deeply. The Lenten one Bread and Wine, and Advent’s Watch For The Light have stirred my heart.

How I long to have a conversation with the late Fr. Alfred Delp. He was the Jesuit priest who wrote “The Shaking Reality of Advent” while in a Nazi prison shortly before he was hanged in 1945. I’ve read his entry no less than eight times. More, maybe. In fact, as I began to read it again today, there came a poem, Kathy-style. What I mean is, it may not fit any rules of being an ode or sonnet or haiku but I’m here to share it with you.

Fr. Delp pens,
"Advent is a time when we ought to be shaken and brought to a realization of our selves. The necessary condition for the fulfillment of Advent is the renunciation of the presumptuous attitudes and alluring dreams in which and by means of which we always build ourselves imaginary worlds. In this way we force reality to take us to itself by force-by force, in much pain and suffering." [He is saying that in the predicament of the world's woes he was enduring, and I would say what we are enduring, we need to be shattered and shaken awake by the reality of our human limitations.]

"We must let our inner eye see and let our hearts range far."

Fr. Alfred Delp is telling us from his prison cell that we need to think more deeply about things. That if we saw and acknowledged the reality of our humanity—and our arrogance, we’d suffer less horrors.

Have We Been Sleeping?

Lord God,
my King, I see
How I have coasted
and I have so wasted

Precious time
Too much attention on material,
temporal fleeting pursuits;
all past and incinerate—impeding.

And Your eternal clock . . .
Tic-Tock. Tic-Tock.
The time between contractions—
of earth's birth pains

—to breathe—

should be a breath of prayer.
Instead, I've made it
a den of decorations,
frilly and nilly.

The good, the grace . . .
of home, your gift of Place
to exalt You, yes, okay . . .
You've gifted my family, peace.

But I slept a bit regarding

the coming day of bearing down,
now producing the crown—
this mark, the end of days.

And are the children ready?
Please make them ready!

So taken by surprise
we need adjust our eyes,
not of earth, but eyes from skies
to recognize the lies . . .

From your eternal perspective,
slept—
lost Your directive
of stewardship.

Some still enshroud in fog
as life trudges along—
unaware of Satan's schemes,
unable to seize Your dreams.

The Spirit-given
to those awake,
fresh oil for the lampstand
some not apt to shake, to wake.

As sea billows roll
and evil takes its toll.

Enemy scores division
among those who've made decision
to say, "yes," then go to sleep,
too afraid of the deep—

But the failure of the sleeping
is now the shaken, reaping.
The shroud of darkness
descends, intends to overtake the Day.

But the gates of hell will not
prevail against us.
If we bow our heads–You'll
bless us.

May all the dead bones wake
stand at attention for Heaven's sake.
And light the torch, aspire,
bow now, that You rise higher . . .

aflame.

Light, come into this darkness
one spark, please pass the torch!
Light on me as we gather, lowly,
Heaven's fire not to scorch.

Arise! Arise! Dear
Children of the Day!
The land is ours to take,
beseech the Light! It's time to pray!

The spirit of war will not win,
For our Captain, He has spoken.
More than conquerors are we,
His bow will not be broken.

May His mighty arrows aim
sharply in-to deepest dark.
We, His, led in triumph for ever . . .
Our King shall never miss the mark.

Another Sermon Recommendation:

If you want to be a part of the shaking awakening, and I pray you do, then please pray. Pray for the Holy Spirit to spark a prayer movement in His church.ο»Ώ

This sermon might be “Revival 101” for anyone interested in seeing the Spirit MOVE in our day. I leave you with a few quotes to whet your appetite:


“Throughout [the book of] Acts, prayer seems to be the reflex to almost any circumstances Christians encounter.”


“A revival-sparking church is a praying church.”


“Let prayer be our reflex.”


“The church on the move is a church of prayer.”


“When your belief in [God’s] sovereignty is on fumes, so will your courage be. When our belief in the sovereignty of God is enflamed, so will our courage be.”

Quotes by Pastor Brian Dainsberg; Alliance Bible Church , Mequon, WI
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