Tag Archives: John

STREET FIGHT

13 Nov

Angry Teen

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.    John 3:16 KJV

—-  

I’m strong – I have power,

You’re weak – you’re nothing.

I could hit you – I could stab you,

You’re weak – you’re nothing.

 —-

These streets are mine – I need nothing,

I don’t need food – I don’t need a room.

I can do anything – I can do everything,

You’re weak – you’re nothing.

 —-

I could kill you – I could take your money,

I could destroy everything you have.

I am strong – nothing can touch me,

You’re weak – you’re nothing.

—-

What’s wrong with you, man?

Don’t you see me, don’t you hear me?

You are at my mercy –

You are a bug in the palm of my hand,

You’re weak – you’re nothing.

—-

Don’t you hear me – can’t you see what I am.

I am strong – I am tough – nothing can hurt me.

I need nothing – I need no one –

The streets are mine,

You’re weak – you’re nothing.

 —-

You’re different, man – you’re different.

You don’t fear me – but you’re not tough.

You sort of glow, man – are you high,

What are you on, man?

 —-

You’re different, man – you’re different.

I’m tough – I’m mean – but – you’re different.

What’s in you, man – I don’t get it.

I’m mean – but you’re looking at me like –

Like – we’re old friends, or something.

But – I don’t have friends –

There are no friends on the street,

NO – you’re weak – you’re nothing.

 —-

I don’t need you – I don’t need nobody,

The streets are mine – I live through fear,

No one messes with me.

But, you’re different, man – Who are you?

 —-

Don’t touch me, man,

No one touches me – Nothing touches me.

I’m mean – the streets are mine,

I’m  –  –  strong  –  –  I’m  –  –

Who are you?

What are you?

—-

Sit down, man – over here,

Where no one can see.

Tell me again why you aren’t afraid.

 —-

There’s no way You could have been like Me,

No way, man – You’re weak – you’re –  –  different  –  –  you’re  –  –

—-

I don’t want to change,

I don’t need food – I don’t need nobody,

People are bad news, man –

People are no good,

Out here I’m king, man,

These are my streets – I’m mean . . .

—-

Don’t hold me, man -don’t touch me – don’t . . . .

Why did you do that –

Why do you care about me.

There’s nothing in your world for me,

There’s no hope – I’m not like you –

You’re not like me,

I can’t be like you.

—-

Who are you, man – look at me cry,

I don’t cry – I’m mean – I’m tough – I’m . . .

Who are you?

 —-

Ok, man – Ok.

Tell me again,

Tell me again about this Jesus guy.

—-

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Feel the Anointing?

10 Nov

Anointed Blanket

“But the anointing which ye have received of him abideth in you, and ye need not that any man teach you: but as the same anointing teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in him.”  1 John 2:27

Have you ever walked into a church and felt the anointing? Have you listened to a song and felt the presence of God flowing over you? Has someone laid hands on your shoulder as you were deep in prayer and felt the power of God shoot straight through you like a charge of electricity? Have you reached out to caress an old worn Bible and felt a tenderness in your hand? Have you ever placed a prayer cloth over your head or around your shoulder and felt a calm pass through you? We all have “God Moments” when there is no doubt about His presence. But, have you ever felt the anointing in the little things?

I’ve been told that people can tell when others are praying for them, it’s the anointing crossing the distances we cannot. The anointing can go into the battlefield with a soldier, into a prison cell, into a hospital room or into a classroom with the person in prayer sits in an office or bedroom miles or countries away.

Recently someone gave me a small knitted blanket with a bag of donations, one I suspect was knitted for a baby boy (it’s blue!). When I touched it I could feel the anointing of loving prayer, likely spoken as each row was knitted. I keep it in my travel bag, what comfort and peace it brings, no matter where I am.

I wonder if we leave that same anointed feeling as we walk through our daily lives. Does the accident victim feel the comfort of the Holy Spirit as we whisper a prayer in passing? Does the stranded motorist feel the angels of protection, placed in prayer, as help is summoned. Does a hurting person feel the hug of God as we fold them in our arms and pray? Does the inmate feel “something” as they open the letters of encouragement mailed off with a seal of prayer? How much do our prayers make a difference?

I can only give as much anointed prayer as I have worked to receive through personal time with God. I can only share the anointing I have been filled with through hours of prayer. How much do I want to give? How much do I want to make a difference? Lord, use ALL of me.

Lord, God, let me never forget that the comfort I can share may be the only moment of peace in a person’s week, month or year. Let me be like that small blue blanket, stitched with love, that still feels like and smells like the anointing of God. Draw me continually into prayer. Amen.

By Linda J. Humes

Written 6-2-2010

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THISTLE

27 Apr

Thistle

“The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” John 3:8

I live in an area where wild flowers grace the hills and valleys for months, changing colors in wonderful blankets of purple, white and yellow. Their blooms smile upward as cold winter winds turn to warm spring breezes. Beautiful flowers, once planted in domestic beds, moved about by the constant winds that blow here.

Those flowers that remain in beds grow full and lush, tended by caring hands. Those that grow wild are small; their roots are shallow, for lack of water, of cultivated soil, of carefully added nutrients.

I’m always delighted by the wild alyssum, snap dragons, morning glories and evening primrose that pop-up in my yard. When the leaves first surface I contemplate the color and shape – is it weed or flower? Do I pluck it out or wait and see. I wait.

Even the sharp prickly thistle, easily recognized, I leave unharmed until the beautiful purple flower has shown its glory. Being careful to remove the entire plant before the delicate petals turn to seeds and parachute away on the wings of the wind.

I wonder if that is similar to the way God looks down on us – His children. Watching as the tiniest green leaf breaks the soil. Watching to see whether we grow as a flower in His glory – or branch out prickly branches while charismatically enticing the unsuspecting with temporary beauty.

When He sees a heart of tenderness, is that when He sends the caretaker that removes the weeds and tares that surround us, stealing our nutrients, crowding our lives, restricting our growth or causing death? Does He watch as we sit at the edge of sin, enjoying the temporary beauty – wondering if we will grab onto the seed after the flower is gone, flying away to watch the sin replant and bloom and float and replant and bloom and float . . . . Does He watch to see if we will pluck the sin away, to the deepest depth of its root; at first sight – or maybe just in time?

I wonder what Jesus saw when He looked down from the cross that fate-filled day; was it the lilies of the field that took His breath? Was it carefully raised, tender plants that chose to leave on the winds of changing doctrine? Or was it the thistles and the crown of thorns that threatened His children?

I wonder if He cried out for the new leaves breaking the surface of the earth, searching, seeking for a drop of moisture – for a chance to bloom. Or was His cry for you – was it perhaps for me?

Yes, I believe it was.

———-

** The Road To Emmaus

By Linda J. Humes

Written 6-25-2004

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