Blessed Are the Desperate: A Poem

Blessed are those who are out of their depths, 

Facing whelms impassable without an ark 

Or a parting of the waves so complete 

That the soggy mud of river bottom 

Unsquelches and hardens into pavement 

For multitudes to cross. 

Blessed are the wilderness wanderers, 

Led, not lost, yet nonetheless 

Out of water, out of food, out of options, 

Unless their Shepherd supplies their need. 

Blessed are the desperate, 

For never can they forget their desperate 

Dependence on God— 

True of all of us, 

All of the time, 

Yet so easily forgotten 

In level lands and well-stocked shelves. 

Blessed are the needy, 

Crying out to God, 

For they shall find Him faithful.

Steadfast {The Other Beatitudes}

“Blessed [happy, spiritually prosperous, favored by God] is the man who is steadfast under trial and perseveres when tempted; for when he has passed the test and been approved, he will receive the [victor’s] crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him.”

‭‭James‬ ‭1‬:‭12‬ ‭AMP‬‬

Joan of Arc cast in bronze, seated on a bench with her sword in her hands. Trees and garden foliage are blurred in background.

 

About suffering—

Which saint said, purportedly,

If this is how You treat Your friends, no wonder You have so few?

 

If this is how You bless Your friends, Lord,

With trials and testings, hard-pressed to within an inch of life,

No wonder You have so few.

 

All one must do—so simple, really—is stay beneath the trial,

Not cry, “Uncle,” not tap out, not forfeit,

Just stay under the load, abide in the wrestle, not let go until He blesses.

 

Yet in the weight of distresses and difficulties,

When the furnace burns with sevenfold heat, there is no “just” about remaining.

Steadfastness takes supernatural strength when (almost) every cell cries out for relief.

Feats of Hercules bear no comparison with the courage required to stay under

Bone-crushing, breath-stealing, relentless load,

Knocked to knees, knocked to all fours, knocked prostrate in the dust,

Buried beneath the rubble of earthly hope

But not surrendering faith in God who raises the dead.

 

In the weary groaning of the waiting world,

We remember for each other, midwives of hope,

Reminding of promises that coming joy is worth the current pain,

For we know we cannot always remember for ourselves.

We spur one another on, crying out encouragement when

The thin veil parts enough to glimpse our Brother under the load alongside—

I see Him with you! I see Him in you!

His strength keeps from us one gram more suffering than needed

For our good and for His glory.

His Spirit in us intercedes—

Hold on—just one more moment—

And faith will be sight.

Stand firm to the end.

Finish well,

Steadfast.

 

We need not burst across a finish line, break the tape.

Just stay. Stay in trust; stay under test.

The happy man keeps faith to final heartbeat,

Outlasting affliction in love for Him who outlasted death itself,

Who loved us first, loves us still, loves us through.

The crown of life will glow with bone-rejoicing, breath-stealing pearls

Produced by the rubble of our buried hopes.

 

He who loved us first will love us to the end,

Adorning those who love Him back with life and love eternal,

And the agony of decades will seem as heavy and prolonged as a single snowflake

Alongside the glory Christ has won for, with, and in us.

 

Blessed be Christ, the steadfast under trial,

Who completes His suffering by suffering in ours,

Who transforms our suffering by suffering with us,

Who sanctifies our suffering by His presence,

Who sustains our suffering with His promises.

How happy the person who stays beneath the load appointed

Because Christ abides there too.

Forgiven Much {The Other Beatitudes}

 “Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven,
Whose sin is covered.
Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity,
And in whose spirit there is no deceit.
You are a hiding place for me;
You preserve me from trouble;
You surround me with songs of deliverance.”

Psalm 32:2-3,7 ESV

 

Tree of Trust {The Other Beatitudes}

 

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,

Whose trust is the LORD.

He is like a tree planted by water,

That sends out its roots by the stream,

And does not fear when heat comes,

For its leaves remain green,

And is not anxious in the year of drought,

For it does not cease to bear fruit.”
Jeremiah 17:7-8 ESV

 

All flesh is grass,

Our glory its flower—

Ephemeral as Texas bluebonnets

Or Washington cherry blossoms

Or Colorado aspens shimmering gold—

Fifteen minutes of flowered effulgence

Then petals drift on footpaths,

Float away on the breeze;

Gold leaves mound and dry

Until raked away or decomposed,

Dust to dust returned.

 

Without Goldilocks heat and moisture,

Summer and winter and seedtime and harvest,

They may not even display 

A blink of glory.

The blessing of bluebonnets, however beautiful,

Is a frail and feeble thing,

Dependent on so much to go just right

To flood the pastures,

Fill the horizon,

With perhaps—what?—

A hundred hours of blue

Or blush or gilt.

 

That same frail withering flesh,

When filled with faith in the Lord,

Trust which is the Lord,

Has strength and substance

Like a tree rising upward.

Trunk thickening outward,

Roots branching downward,

Downward and downward,

Outward and outward

To the water table.

To the river,

To rain-soaked surface soil,

Sustained by springs

Lesser plants know not of,

Springs slaking thirst unceasingly.

 

Let the winds blow;

Its roots are deep and deeper still.

Let the sun scorch;

Its leaves will verdant be.

Let drought wither grasses

And field flowers;

Water may gush from granite

That tree of trust stand tall,

Limbs outstretched, upraised.

It dwells in rich good soil

Which carries living water

Into perennial fruitfulness,

Foretaste of the harvest of New Jerusalem.