One Kind of Courage

River Shore

“Of course we need art to explore the darkest recesses of our lives and minds, but we also need art to tell us why this world is worth loving and therefore saving. Praise too is part of any whole artistic and existential vision. Joy is one kind of courage.”
– Christian Wiman

Do you listen to podcasts? I’m mildly addicted. One podcast I’ve fallen in love with is The Habit Podcast, a conversation with writers about writing, produced by The Rabbit Room. Today’s quote appeared in episode 11, during Jonathan Roger’s interview with Karen Swallow Prior. I listened to the episode yesterday on my way to work, and it was exactly what my soul needed. That last little bit has stuck fast in my head⁠—joy is one kind of courage. Today, I choose to be brave. Will you join me?

Sunday Morn


O Father, once again we come

Broken, humbled, craving rest

Once again, we approach Your throne

Once again, Your name we bless


Not by our works, oh no

O Lord, not by our deeds

Not by our own fragile strength

Have we secured the right to bend the knee


We come by the blood our Savior shed

We come by the life He purchased in death

We come by the hope He forever secured

We come by the grace that always endures


Not by our own strength, oh no

Lord not by our own prowess

Only by Your might, O Lord

Can we kneel, and praise, and bless


So Lord take our hearts

Though feeble a gift they be

Take our very life and breath

Bend them wholly unto Thee


Not our own will, oh no

O Lord, not our own dreams

Your will and Your glory

Not ours but Yours, O Sovereign King


Towers crumble

Nations rage

Our days run out

But You remain

King o’er the ages


And so we rise

Go about our daily deeds

Keenly aware of Your sustaining care

And our own desperate, daily needs


Hurry up
But not too fast
This day
Might be your last

So don’t be afraid to pause
And notice the beauty
Surrounding you on every side
Take a long breath
Raise your head
Soak the sun and drink the sky

So walk on by
But not to quick
Today might be the only
Day you’ve left to live

Watch the wonder
In a child’s eyes
Read the tales
In the laugh-lines
Crinkling in the corners
Of your grandfather’s eyes

Rise, brave heart
Rise and face the day
Let each breath be a prayer
Of thanks for grace

Whatever you do
Wherever you tread
Whatever your path
Give thanks for the grace
Bestowed on your head

It is grace that sustains
Your weary heart
Grace bears you up
And each passing breath imparts

Rejoicing Under Suffering

Beloved of Christ

Be not dismayed

By the ghastly persecution

That haunts your ways.


The world hated Christ

So it hates you as well

Your blessing is not of this life

With your Savior you dwell.


Christ is our hope

Do not lose faith

Over the fiery trials

That burn your life ash gray.


Think not it strange

To witness strife

Tis not strange at all

For your hope is not this life.


Be not afraid

Rest solely in Christ

Lift your gaze to heaven

Though felled beneath the world’s scythe.


Chase not after the honor

That flows from this sickened world

Cling you still to Christ

He is our final and glorious hope.


“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed.”  — 1 Peter 4:12-13

All Creation Shouts

You ask me how I know

That there is something more

You ask me why I hold so tight

To that with immaterial form.


Why do I believe

Why do I hope

Why do I trust

How do I know?


All I’ve to do

Is glance up at the stars

I see the whirling galaxies

And know that Love cannot be far.


I glance down at my feet

And the blades of grass I tread

Each so tiny, so well designed

But their abundance turns my head.


I breathe in the ocean wind

And watch the fish beneath the waves

I see their glorious colors

Their variety and display.


I watch the birds away up high

And hear the eagle’s mighty shriek

As he plummets earthward to seize his prey

With keen eyes he downward seeks.


You ask me how I know

You ask me why I trust

I’ll point beyond the windowpane

To the creation God has with life blessed.

God is in Control [O My Soul]

Early morn reflections on God’s goodness, faithfulness, and grace. The primary source of inspiration for this poem is the book of Psalms. Bless the Lord, O my soul…


God is in Control [O My Soul]

Some days, I go too slow

Some days, I don’t feel like I’ve grown

Be still, O my soul—

God is in control.


There are days, when I am hopeless

There are days, when I feel worthless

Be at rest, O my soul—

God is in control.


Sometimes I wake, and the morn is yet dark

Sometimes I wake, to a world falling apart

Be consoled, O my soul—

God is in control.


Some days, I don’t have the strength

Some days, I’m weak not great

Trust in the Lord, O my soul—

God is in control.


When the day dawns

And the night flees

Bless the Lord, O my soul—

Be at peace.


When the sun rides high

And all is bright

Bless the Lord, O my soul—

God is your sight.


When the sun sets

Glorious display

Bless the Lord, O my soul—

Be not dismayed.


When the night comes

All lost beneath

Bless the Lord, O my soul—

God is your relief.