Creştini imaturi spiritual? – L. Ravenhill

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„Fie ca mâinile mele să facă alegerea pe care a făcut-o El, fie ca picioarele mele să alerge în modul în care El a alergat.

  Fie ca ochii mei să-L vadă pe Isus. Fie ca buzele mele să vorbească spre slava Lui. Totul pentru Hristos!

   Toate puterile mele răscumpărate.

   Toate gândurile, cuvintele şi faptele mele,

   Toate zilele şi toate orele mele!”

                                                                                                                        Leonard Ravenhill

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“Honour God with your trust”.
It dawned on me like
the soothing rays of the rising sun
after a dreadful stormy night.
I cried over and over again
“Lord, help me trust you”,
but nothing seemed to change.
I am tired of fighting for survival,
keeping my head above the water,
all alone.

Worry, helplessness, confusion…
They, too, fight for survival.
No, they aim for destruction.
Raging, desperate cries:
“Don’t you care that I perish?”
Ravaged thoughts!
Shivering, I hand them over to him.
“He delivered him up for us all,
How shall he not with him also, freely give us
All things?”

Why do you say,
“My way is hidden from the Lord”?
He gives power to the faint,

When you have no might he increases strength.
When you faint and fall exhausted;
you wait for the Lord, he shall renew your force;

you shall mount up with wings like eagles,
you will run and not be weary;

you shall walk and will
not faint.

“What more do you want?
He’s your bleeding Saviour,
He wiped your slate clean.”
His blood purifies your conscience
From the dead works
to serve the mighty King.
You are more than conqueror,
through Christ all things you can do,
because he’s the one giving you

The last beat


A fist and a heart clenched in.

A fist wrapped around a heart

in a killing grip.

Squeezing the life out

Chocking it,

Hurting it.

How did I get here?

Without even knowing it

There’s not enough blood sustaining it

There’s something squeezing the life out of me.

So many things.

Don’t even know them by their name.

What a life…..

Half a life.

Pumping to half of its capacity

“be free, breathe, change” they hail

But how can I when there’s this

Killer fist dripping my blood

out of my veins?

“change, change” but they walk by,

With a sigh and half of a grin.

And I’m still here under this grip

That chokes the life out of me.

I cannot breathe and my heart

can’t even have a whole of a beat,

maybe the next would be the last.

SFR 20.01.13


Blessed are the eyes that
have seen
but your love.
Blessed are the ears
that only hear your voice
above the noise.
Blessed is the tongue
That only spoke
of wonders in your Word.
Blessed are the hands
That have worked
but to glorify Your Name.

Blessed are the feet
that only walked your way.

Blessed is the mind
Where thoughts of You
have only nestled.

Blessed is the one
who’s ever known
but splendour of
your presence.

Yet I have cast aside
that blessing and
traded it with curse.

Once my first parents
broke out
Into the knowledge
of good and evil,
They thought that they
had broken free.
Never has it occurred to them
that being free,
without you,
is sheer slavery.

It’s not only around me,
resides my very soul;
I’m sick of all the evil
That I’ve known.

The shadows in my past
They’ve shackle me.

Hidden from sight

Crimson rubies dancing
On a blade…..
Wailing and mourning
a gloomy dance of death.

Pain is not above my skin
As it is beneath this
Shallow veil that hides
This dreadful agony inside;
It rather flows with drips
of grief
Out of a wound that
No one sees,
A wound much deeper
than the skin.

It mingles with relief
And rolling down my arms.
There is release from
unimagined misery.
This ache has just unleashed
Some comfort from
this pain that flows,
hidden from sight.
23. sept.2013