How Fortunate Infinite Wisdom Prevails!

I love, love, love Ruth Bell Graham's poetry... Mom introduced it to me in fourth grade when she gave me a copy of Ruth's book, "Sitting By My Laughing Fire" and told me to learn to write poetry. {I never did write anything worth saving.}

At the time, I thought her poetry was annoying and hard to understand.

Then I grew up a little and lived a little life and started to savor some of her Ruth's words.

And now, there are few things I like more than a Ruth Bell Graham poem. The realness just oozes from it... and her words say what my heart never managed to put into words.

I'll share one of my all-time favorites tonight.

Had I been Joseph's mother

I'd have prayed

protection from his brothers:

"God keep him safe;

he is so young,

so different from

the others."

Mercifully she never knew

there would be slavery

and prison, too.

Had I been Moses' mother

I'd have wept

to keep my little son;

praying she might forget

the babe drawn from the water

of the Nile,

had I not kept

him for her

nursing him the while?

Was he not mine

and she

but Pharaoh's daughter?

Had I been Daniel's mother

I should have pled

"Give victory!

This Babylonian horde-

godless and cruel -

don't let them take him captive

-- better dead,

Almighty Lord!"

Had I been Mary -

Oh, had I been she,

I would have cried

as never a mother cried,

"...Anything, O God,

anything...

but crucified!"

With such prayers

importunate

my finite wisdom

would assail

Infinite Wisdom;

God, how fortunate

Infinite Wisdom

should prevail!

-- RBG

Forgiveness That Wasn't There

To heal a hate
takes grace
that isn't. There
is churning hurt
and bitterness
- and black despair.
No love. No grace.
No power to choose.
I heard a stillness.
Then
I felt a face.
His searching eyes
held mine
and would not turn me loose.
then through hot tears
I saw and understood:
He hung cross high,
a spear was in my hand
that dripped with blood,
a helmet on my head.

I watched Him die;
but just before, He said,
"Forgive them for
they know not what
they do" . . .
then He was dead.
Slowly I raised my head:
the clouds were unarranged,
the sky was fair,
the warm sun shone,
nothing had changed:
the hurt was still there
only. . .
the hate was gone.

- Ruth Bell Graham, Collected Poems


Ruth Bell Graham's Collected Poems has become one of my treasured favorite volumes to read again and again. You ought to order yourself a copy. I promise it will be well worth it! :)
http://www.amazon.com/Ruth-Bell-Grahams-Collected-Poems/dp/0801011388/

Die, Son; But Do Not Sin

Die, son:
but do not sin.
It is too high a price
for living -
if "life" it can be called
to wallow
(briefly even)
in that which God forbids.
Satan has desired you:
shrewd,
he will not use
revolting sins
to lure,
but "lovely" ones,
"respectable,"
"desirable,"
and "pure"
(or so they seem);
far better you should die
honorably,
and clean
than craven-hearted,
nearsighted,
weak of will
and mean,
your birthright you should sell
for a mere mess of pottage,
squander your inheritance
in wild living,
then fain
fill your belly with
the husks of swine.

Would you trade
fellowship with Him
for tarnished coin
and raveled end of rope?

God's hand is on you, son;
far better then
the furnace, seven-times heated,
the denned and starving lions,
the stones that honored Stephen,
or a cross. . .

The choice is yours:
God grant you
eyes to see
and ears to hear,
a loyal heart
and will of steel,
forged to His will,
sound in His fear.



So. . .
die;
but do not sin;

such death
is not life's end -
but its beginning.

~ Ruth Bell Graham, Collected Poems

My Little Girl

Carefree,
she ran to the park to play,
her face uplifted to the sun;
That day...
while I
aware of brewing storms
that etched the sky,
clutched at a fear
and nursed it.
Then I
saw her hand
outstretched
like a small child;
and while I watched,
Another Hand
reached down and clasped it.
I heard the distant thunder
with a smile.

~ Ruth Bell Graham

Five I Have

Five I have:
each separate,
distinct,
a soul
bound for eternity:
and I
- blind leader of the blind -
groping and fumbling,
casual and concerned,
by turns....
undisciplined, I seek
by order and command
to discipline and shape;
(I who need discipline
to shape my own disordered soul).
O Thou
Who seest the heart's true, deep desire,
each shortcoming and each sad mistake,
supplement and overrule,
nor let our children be
the victims of our own
unlikeness unto Thee.

Ruth Bell Graham