Don’t be angry at God for the storm you face, He’s not the cause—but your refuge, your grace. The weight you bear, the tears you cry, He sees it all—He hears each sigh.
When life feels cruel, and hope seems small, He’s still your strength, the Lord of all. Though answers hide and pain runs deep, His promises are yours to keep.
He doesn’t promise skies of blue, But He’ll walk each darkened mile with you. Not every valley is meant to last, But faith will guide you through the past.l
So lift your eyes, though the way is rough, His grace is gentle, His love enough. Don’t let your heart turn cold or blind God’s not behind you… He walks in time.
Trust in Him when the night feels long, He’ll turn your sorrow into song. You’re not alone in what you do Hold on, dear soul… He’ll carry you through.
Isa 43:2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.
Violence begets violence—so cycles repeat, Old wounds reopen on every street. Anger returns where love once stood, And peace is buried beneath what “should.”
What must we do in a world torn apart, To mend the flesh and heal the heart? We cannot strike and hope for calm, Nor shout and pray for quiet balm.
We must begin where hatred ends With open hands and listening friends. With courage not to raise the fist, But build a world where none are missed.
We teach our children not with fear, But with the truth: all lives are dear. We speak for those who have no say, And walk with those cast far away.
Forgiveness is a heavy stone, But it can raise a brighter home. Justice wrapped in mercy’s thread Can weave new paths where blood once bled.
So what must we do? We choose to start With softer voice and braver heart. For peace is not a passive dream, But fierce and real—andours to redeem.
Don’t let the little things steal your peace Not every storm demands release. Some battles fade with silent grace, Not every slight needs to take first place.
This world is loud, with endless spin, But we don’t have to be sucked in. For though it’s soaked in sin and pride, We walk with One who’s by our side.
The headlines shout, the tempers flare, But truth still whispers in quiet prayer. If we would pause and kneel and pray, God will show us the narrow way.
Not in the chaos or the crowd, But in His Word—clear, strong, and loud. So guard your heart, keep spirit still, And trust His timing, trust His will.
Don’t major in the minor things, Or clip the grace your patience brings. Fix your eyes on things above Faith, endurance, hope, and love.
Let mercy win, let kindness lead, Let go of every lesser need. He’ll calm the waves, restore your view Just listen close… He’s guiding you.
In a quiet restaurant, a son brought his father, An elder man, weak, yet no burden to bother. With trembling hands, his meal he ate, Spilling crumbs that time would create.
The crowd around them whispered and stared, Faces twisted, but the son never cared. With patience and love, he bore no disdain, For he knew honor blooms where kindness remains.
He led his father to cleanse and refresh, Wiped food from his face, smoothed wrinkled dress. He combed gray hair with a gentle hand, Restored the dignity of this cherished man.
Returning to silence, the room stood still, The son paid calmly and cleared the bill. But as they turned, an elder arose, A stranger with wisdom the moment chose.
“Don’t you think you left something behind?” The son replied, “Nothing comes to mind.” With a smile, the stranger softly spoke, “A lesson, my friend, in every heart woke.
You’ve left a hope for fathers to see, And taught sons what honor truly can be.” The room, once loud, grew solemn and still, A truth resounding, a moment fulfilled.
For what greater tribute can a child impart, Than to care for the ones who first gave them heart? The elders who sacrificed, who paved the way, Deserve our respect every step of the day.
So cherish the hands that once held you tight, For in their care lies a beacon of light. A timeless bond, a love so true What they gave to us, we must return too.
To the dads who guide with steady hand, Who teach us how to love and stand Your strength, your grace, your quiet might Reflect the Father’s holy light.
And to the One who reigns above, Who fathers us with perfect love We lift our thanks, our hearts, our praise, For all You’ve given, all Your ways.
On earth or gone to Heaven’s shore, A father’s love lives evermore. So here’s to each, both near and far A gift from God, a guiding star.
We often cling to what we claim Our time, our treasure, even name. We build and hoard, and plan with pride, While God stands gently at our side.
We say, “This harvest, I have grown,” Forgetting none of it’s our own. Each gift we guard, each breath we take, Is lent by Him—for Heaven’s sake.
He gives so we might pass it on, To light a soul, to lift the dawn. And when we yield with open hand, He multiplies what we had planned.
It’s not the gold or grain we sow, But love that makes the blessings grow. The Spirit whispers, soft and true: “There’s someone there—this gift’s for you.”
So let us walk with eyes aware, Of need and sorrow, pain and prayer. And trust that joy will overflow, When grace through giving starts to flow.
Not ours to keep, but ours to share The riches of His loving care. For everything is His above And He repays with joy and love.
Each morning, I pass that barren land, Once green and soft, now scorched and tanned. A yard that knew the bloom of spring, Now silent, dry—remembering.
Why did the watering cease one day? Did time slip in and steal away? Did busy hands forget the care, Or did despair hang in the air?
So too, the soul, if left unfilled, Grows parched and weary, hope unspilled. It doesn’t die—but turns to stone, A silent ache, a hollowed tone.
Yet even hearts as dry as bone Can drink again what Heaven’s shown For mercy rains in steady streams, And grace revives our buried dreams.
No soul’s too far, no ground too cracked, For living water to bring it back. So let us tend what lies inside, And water well where love may hide.
For hearts, once hard, can bloom again, With just one drop of Heaven’s rain.
The road behind is strewn with dust, Of dreams once bright, now turned to rust. But grace, not guilt, shall light my way— For I was never meant to stay.
The past may whisper, plead, or cry, But I lift my gaze toward the sky. Forgetting chains that held me fast, I walk unbound—no longer cast.
Each step, though weary, draws me near, To what is holy, pure, and clear. Not for this world’s fleeting gain, But for the crown that comes through pain.
The prize is Christ—my hope, my song, The call that pulls my heart along. I press ahead, through storm and fire, Fueled by a deeper, heaven-born desire.
No turning back, no pause, no end, Just faith in Him—my Lord, my Friend. For upward still my soul shall soar, To meet the One I’m striving for.
“I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:13–14 (NIV)
Saints Can Not Live on Wine Alone (They Need the Lamb)
They gather ’round with lifted cup, The vintage rich, the vessel full Yet still the soul feels hunger deep, A quiet ache, a gentle pull.
For wine may warm the tongue and cheer, And momentarily dull the pain, But joy that lasts, that stills the storm, Is found not in the grape or grain.
The saints may sip from gilded glass, But thirst returns with every breath. Their strength comes not from vineyard rows, But from the Lamb who conquered death.
He bore the cross, He broke the bread, He poured His blood, the truest wine. He is the feast, the Living Word, The holy root, the sacred vine.
So let them taste, but not forget That heaven’s hope is not a toast It’s in the Lamb, once slain for all, Whose mercy means the very most.
Saints can not live on wine alone They need the Lamb upon the throne.
Jhn 6:35 And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.
