Moms, you are cherished beyond measure,  
Not for the deeds your hands perform.  
You are treasured in His sight,  
For simply being the form you adorn.

God knows every layer of your spirit,  
More deeply than you could ever view.  
In His infinite wisdom and mercy,  
He has made His loving verdict—He cherishes you.

Across all the mornings you rise before dawn,  
Through nights when peace seems afar.  
He sees the strength in your weary eyes,  
Illuminated, as you are His star.

So on this day when we honor you,  
Let this truth in your heart be still:  
You are loved just for being you,  
With a love that no depths can fill.

Happy Mother's Day to you,  
A blessing from the skies above—  
Eternally valued, eternally held,  
In the boundless embrace of God's love.

May 7, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop

    The True Meaning of Easter

It wasn’t the nails that held Him there,
But love so deep, beyond compare.
A crown of thorns, a rugged tree,
The weight of sin, for you and me.

Betrayed, abandoned, left alone,
Yet mercy flowed from Heaven’s throne.
With every stripe, with every scar,
He bore our pain to heal our hearts.

The earth went dark, the sky stood still,
As Love fulfilled the Father’s will.
A borrowed tomb, a stone so cold,
Yet death could never take its hold.

For on the third, the grave gave way,
The stone was rolled—an empty grave!
He rose in power, He lives again,
Our Savior, King, our truest Friend.

Not bunnies, eggs, or springtime cheer,
But victory over death and fear.
Eternal hope, amazing grace,
New life for all who seek His face.

So lift your voice, rejoice and sing,
For Jesus lives—our Risen Savior and King!

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop 

Mat 28:6  He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay 

     The Shadow of the Cross

Upon a hill so dark and high,
The Savior hung beneath the sky.
No robe of gold, no royal thread—
A crown of thorns upon His head.

The crowd grew still, the sky turned gray,
As heaven watched love poured away.
His hands were pierced, His side was torn,
For every soul that would be born.

No angels came to lift Him down,
No earthly throne, no victor’s crown—
Yet in that stillness, mercy cried,
And hope was born the day He died.

He bore our shame, He took our place,
He looked with love into disgrace.
Each drop of blood, each ragged breath,
A path of life through gates of death.

And though we mourn this sacred loss,
We do not weep without the cross.
For Sunday dawns with glory bright—
From death shall rise the Lord of Light.

So kneel today where shadows fall,
And hear His voice—He died for all.
The darkest day the world had known
Became the day love overthrown…
Was crowned the King upon His throne.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

The Towel and the Table

Upon the night so still, so deep,
Before the world would wake or weep,
He knelt, the King, with basin wide,
And washed the feet of those beside.

No throne of gold, no crown to wear,
But love poured out in servant care.
The hands that shaped the stars above
Now wiped the dust with holy love.

He broke the bread, He raised the cup,
“This is My body—drink it up.
Remember Me in all you do,
My covenant, poured out for you.”

The shadows crept, the hour grew late,
The Lamb would bear the sinner’s fate.
Yet in that room so dimly lit,
Divine compassion brightly lit.

“A new command,” He gently said,
“Love one another in My stead.
Not just in word, but in the way
You serve, you give, you kneel, you pray.”

And so this night, with hearts made pure,
We walk the path where Christ was sure.
From towel to table, cross to grave,
We bless the One who came to save.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Jhn 13:12  When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them.
Jhn 13:13  "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am.
Jhn 13:14  Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet.
Jhn 13:15  I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.
Jhn 13:16  Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.
Jhn 13:17  Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

The streets were lined with waving palms,
Hosannas rose in joyful psalms.
The King rode in on borrowed steed,
To fill the world’s most urgent need.

On Monday’s path, He cleansed the place,
Where hearts had strayed from holy grace.
With righteous fire, He cast out wrong
His truth like thunder, clear and strong.

By Tuesday’s sun, He taught once more,
Of Heaven’s gate and mercy’s door.
The crowds grew still, the shadows near,
Yet still He spoke, though death drew near.

On Wednesday, silence cloaked the land,
Betrayal stirred in greed’s dark hand.
A kiss was planned, a coin was paid,
The Son of Man by friend betrayed.

Then Thursday came, the upper room,
A basin, bread, and coming gloom.
He broke the loaf, He blessed the cup,
And knelt to wash—then lifted up.

In midnight’s hush, in garden deep,
While others fled or fell to sleep,
He bore the weight, the crushing dread
“Thy will, not mine,” is what He said.

Friday’s sky turned black with grief,
The Lamb was slain, the thief found belief.
The veil was torn, the earth did shake
The curse of sin began to break.

On Saturday, the world stood still,
The tomb was sealed upon the hill.
Hope seemed lost, all dreams undone
Yet silence waited for the Son.

Then Sunday’s dawn lit up the skies,
The stone rolled back, the dead did rise!
No grave could hold, no seal contain
The Risen Lord who broke all chains.

So every step of Holy Week
Speaks to the soul of love we seek.
From palms to cross, from death to rise
Redemption’s gift before our eyes.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Mat 21:9  And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest. 

The sun rose soft on Vatican stone,
Where faithful gathered, hearts full-blown.
Palm branches waved through morning light,
A sacred sign, a hopeful sight.

Then came a hush—a breath held tight,
As robes appeared in gleaming white.
A figure known, with steps still slow,
But eyes alight with Heaven’s glow.

Pope Francis came through trial and flame,
From breathless dark, he rose again.
With double storm within his chest,
He leaned on God, found strength and rest.

No screen today, no distant call
But soul standing tall before them all.
A shepherd brave, a soul restored,
He blessed the crowd and praised the Lord.

A Palm Sunday no one foresaw
A glimpse of grace, a breath of awe.
For in his smile, the faithful see
God’s mercy meet with victory.

For God’s Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

It’s not the ash upon the brow,
Nor hunger from the fasting now.
It’s deeper still—this sacred way,
A turning heart that dares to pray.

It’s not just giving something up,
Like sweets or habits or coffee cup
But laying down what dims the soul,
To let the Spirit make it whole.

It’s walking with the Christ who gave,
Who loved, who served, who came to save.
It’s finding Him in quiet grace,
In stranger’s eyes, in sacred space.

It’s seeking justice, giving bread,
Forgiving wounds long left unsaid.
It’s lifting hands, it’s bending knee,
It’s living love that sets us free.

This road leads through the desert bare,
But ends in light beyond compare.
For Lent is not where stories cease
It blooms into eternal peace.

So journey on with heart made new,
The cross in sight, but heaven too.
For in the giving, we are found
In loss, in love, on holy ground. 

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop