To a holocaust-ed people

Why is it that everyone treated them with hatred;

Wanted them dead and still they do?

Despite the hate they faced,

they still exist as people and as state.

Offsprings of one man,

they came to be a nation.

Pilgrims and travellers down through the centuries,

scattered and banished,

they still kept one creed.

Wherever they sojourned

tears and persecution had followed.

They had to die just because they were alive.

Why send them to the camps of terror?

Why have they had to face such hate?

Six million people – “the chosen ones!”

children and babies were among them.

The only crime? It was their race!

Jews – the ones that Adonai had chosen,

chosen for burnt offering.

“Why”- the mocking question-

is bound to never get an answer.

How could one look at children going to the gas?

Why look at friends giving their lives for another?

Why killing them just for the devilish pleasure of a cruel eye?

Why looking from afar and watch them die?

Horrendous, horrific is the sight…

Young human beings gripped in their mothers’ arms.

Singing their last song, friends see their friends

going their way to underground rooms,

but never to come out.

Laid bare of every form of dignity,

compassion or safe shelter

they fight for their last breath of air,

under the fiendish killers’ sight.

The oxygen is gone.

Forbidden is their right to breathe.

Clenched in each other’s arms

they take in their last breath

and choke as the gas

goes to their brains.

Even the dignity to have a grave they are denied.

Their bodies light the fires,

the chimneys are crammed

with their ashes.

The rising smoke terrify the helpless, enslaved eyes.

You may ask “why?”

Once I’d have told you:

“You ask the Nazi”.

But now I’m telling you:

“You must ask Adonai!”

As one of them has said it:

“If I understood God,

I’d be God.”

Now, even the answer to the question

is forbidden.

The tyranny of “why” is far too great

to still endure it.

I scream and mourn

six million of “why-s”,

and many more than that

still are rising from their bullets

and their bombs.

PS. For the Remembrance Day  of Holocaust, the 27th January 1945.

The last atonement day!

The day of atonement!
It’s coming, coming soon.
Fourteen days and the feast
will commence.
The high-priest takes
of the blood of bulls
and rams,
goats and lambs
on the day of atonement,
When the priest would go
in the most Holy Place
with the blood of bull and rams
Sprinkling over the seat of the Most High.
Atonement for him and his own he would make.
The rope attached to his leg,
the bells attached to his robe
would tell us he’s still there.
Seven times we would hear their [clang]
clang, clang,clang, clang, clang, clang, clang.
From behind the veil he would come out
with the censer full of burning coals
as the incense had burnt.
Back again he would go
with the blood of a goat.
Again, seven times would he sprinkle the blood,
for our whole people this time.
Clang, clang, the bells go, seven times.
In the mist of the incense cloud,
In the midst of the One unseen and Most High.
Out he would come with the censer held high
and a cup with the blood of a goat.
Then on another goat’s head
both hands he would place,
Confession for all our transgressions
and iniquities he would make.
He then placed all our sins
on that goat they have cast lots on,
away must be sent with our burden of sins.
All our sins have been taken away
to the wilderness, where no man
will ever set foot.
He would send the scape-goat
with my share of the sin
and it’s been taken away.
The day of atonement,
a day we all can’t wait to see every year.
Yet, there’s still time.
Ten more days.
Today the holy assembly’s called out
with the sounds of the trumpets.
It’s the day for preparing our souls
for the day of atonement.
Today is the feast of the trumpets.
All ’round the land make ready
for the day we all look forward to!

Down through the centuries
preparations were made for the
Perfect blood of the purest Lamb.
We all look forward to him.
No one of old would even dare think
that the perfect offering

to come to the world and make

the atonement for all

would be our own high priest,
even our king.
I heard someone say pointing to a man
“Behold the Lamb who takes away
the sin of the world”.
Just imagine, the entire world,
not just our land but the
whole humankind.
“Is it you?” later on, the same asked,
“or shall we wait for another?”
Lots of them had doubts in their hearts
even to the hour, one evening, he told
his own “this is my blood,
of the New Covenant.
It’s poured out for many,
for the forgiveness of sins.”
Only few took his words to their hearts.
Even fewer dared believe in Him
till that dark night,
when their shepherd was smitten
and the sheep were all scattered.
That night, twelve of the closest
all ran away.

Outside the gates…
some would stare at the offering:
the perfect Lamb shedding
the perfect blood of the Most Holy of all,
The Son of Man and the Son of God.
They would gaze to the blood pouring,
flowing down the tree of curse,
the place of the sacrifice.
There he took the curse, the hurts,
the burden of all sins
of the entire world.
For all humankind he died,
He took our place.
Out of the camp he took our sins.
All guilt is gone,
to wilderness, away is taken,
where no man has ever and will ever
set a foot.
He bore our sin,
It’s all forgiven and forgotten.

The twelve again would gather,
thoughts of their last supper
would come to their minds.
The night he had told them
“this is my blood, drink all of it,
forgiveness to everyone to give.”
The day of atonement has come
And gone is now for good.
The Lamb of God was offered,
yet not by man,
by God he was provided.
This was God’s own atonement day,
Atonement for each and every one of us.

No priest is needed – not again-
with bulls and rams and goats;
The Highest of priests
has come into the world,
His very blood has brought with him.
Into the Holy of Holies he went.
The veil is torn. Now we all can come,
and by his blood we all can claim
atonement for our soul.
The last atonement day has come.


Living without you is no life.

When false images pose

between me and you

You turn my eyes to the love

You lavish on me.

Whisper again to my heart

and my ear

how your beloved daughter

I am.

Your prize and

the fruit of your sacrifice

I am.

Greater than this

is no love

I know of.

You died and rose again

And breathed life into me

So I can live Your life

With all that

I am.

Master and Lord,

my lover and bridegroom,

be my core  in all

that I think

and I do,

Be my all.

(C) 31Dec.2011 SFR

Wake up, church! – Biserică, trezeşte-te!

Trezire Azi

Am un puternic îndemn din partea Domnul să împărtăşesc din nou cu toţi cei care vizitează acest blog, mesajul de trezire poate cel mai clar pe care l-am postat cu aproape doi ani în urmă. Aş vrea să îndemn din toată inima şi cu toată dragostea pe toţii fraţii sinceri în Hristos, să ia aminte la cuvintele profetice ale oamenilor Săi, selectate pe scurt în acest material video. Doamne, fă-ne parte de trezire acum, la sfârşitul veacurilor!

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Broken, I miss the broken you
when you couldn’t claim anything
as your own, but your brokenness.
I miss the broken you.

Poor; I miss you when
you didn’t pretend to have it all together,
but you admitted your poverty.
I miss you when you were poor,
when you knew you were in need of me.

Hungry; I miss you when you
were hungry for me, and more of me,
when you were hungry only for me.
But you got hungry for other things,
and you forgot of me.
I miss the hungry you for more of me.

Thirsty; there was a time when you were thirsty
and I would give you water
to spring into eternity.
Your thirst has turned for other things,
before long you forsake my spring.
I miss the thirsty you.

Pure in heart; I miss your heart when so pure was
when to my own was bound in love.
But now your heart holds other lovers dear,
and you forgot your love for me.
I miss your heart so pure.

Mourn; I miss when you were mourning
in time of early hours of prayer
for other souls and for your own,
but now you can’t see your wretchedness,
you do not mourn.
Now it is I who mourn.
I miss you when you were mourning.

Blessed; I miss you when you were blessed
the way I bless you,
when you saw my blessing in your poverty,
my blessing in your brokenness –
to see I make you whole,
my blessing in your purity –
having your heart tied to my own.
when mourning – to mourn with me,
in hunger for me – to know that I satisfy,
in thirst – to know that I quench it.
I miss you when you were all these things,
yet you were glad,
and you rejoiced in me.
SFR 07/06/11

Counter strike

When lies invade your mind
Protect yourself with truth.
Let honorable things be your constant guard,
Respite will never come.
The enemy will throw at you
All things impure,
He will stir up
All of your past and flaws:
Hold fast to what is pure.

All righteous things,
May they abound
Among your thoughts
When those unjust well up –
Concealed volcanoes of the deep.

All that is lovely may ebb and flow
When toxic clouds come fog your mind.
Things of a good report,
And all commendable
Before your eyes you keep.

If there be any virtue,
grab hold of that
and flee from all the filth
that flood your mind and heart.

If there be any praise
I plead with you:
fill up your thoughts with these
and pray the God of peace
your thoughts and heart may guard
in Christ Jesus your King.

If you, indeed, were raised with him
seek all the things above.

All your affection in your heart
be set on things concerning God,
not on the sewage of this world
that oh, so many drink of,
for you have died
but, still, you live
hidden with Christ in God.

So, put to death
all that is of this earth in you,
and rise and reign with Him,
as Christ himself has brought you
into His Kingdom,
through gates of splendour
not opened by men
but by his own bleeding wounds.
His blood has purchased you,
you’re only His,
into the everlasting life
to live solely for Him,
with Him.

One of those

I’m hurt but I don’t feel it.
Something of me is gone.
I walk the ground but
but I don’t feel the soil.
I use my hands
but I’m not whole.

They see me and
all walk away.
No touch am I allowed.
No love and no consideration.
I’m poor, rejected, on my own,
yet, I can’t live alone.

I’ve hurt myself
and still I do.
The sores are everywhere.
The greatest ache of all
I have, is not
feeling pain at all.
And still I hurt.

Some sores, have been done unto me.
Others, I’ve done myself.
The hardest pain
still is
that there is no pain at all.
If only I could feel.

There is no coming back
to wholeness.
No expectation, no hope for me.
Though, there’s a rumour
that in another land,
and in another time
One man has walked the earth
And touched my kind.

He made them feel again.
He gave them hopes and dreams,
He welcomed back to him
the ones they banished and
walked past.
He made them whole again.

I am one of that kind.
But blessed feet don’t
walk my land.
Rumours still go and come
onto the highways and the hedges.

I am still here waiting for
blessed feet to come.
Waiting for those hands
to welcome me.
I’m one of the unwhole.
I’m one of those they call
a leper.
(C) SFR 03/07/11