David's Pen

A friend posted a poem that spoke of what God is like and how that affects us and how we are. It inspired me to have a go - to describe as simply and concisely as possible, what I believe about God, about the world and how it impacts us. A God of love created, Creatures free to be loved and to love. People to enjoy His goodness, To be raised to the heights above. A Triune God created, In His image, He created us all. Body, soul and spirit At one, until that fall. Lovingly He placed us In a perfect world of joy, With angels called to nurture, To care and not destroy. But one who God had trusted, One who He called ‘light’, For status, he lusted And turned the day to night. Now torn apart by choices, Disfigured, disabled and blind. The enemy silences voices, Warps body, soul, and mind. Yet still God declares it is worth it, The risk, is worth the pain. The joy of knowing you, With a love that will never wane. He thought o...

As Passover approached, everyone’s thoughts naturally turned back to that first Passover. A time when Israel had been oppressed and held captive by the then world power – Egypt. A time when a man had arisen who understood power and majesty and who had led the people out. A time when the ruler of that world had turned away from compassion and had hardened his heart until the enemy of our souls had him in his thrall. A time when that Pharaoh had sent the army to destroy God’s people. And a time when faith was demonstrated through the sacrifice of a lamb, which, in its innocence, took away the sin of the people. And they naturally projected that scene onto their present circumstances: Israel, oppressed by the current world power – the Roman Empire, but with the hope of one who wielded power, one who the people had rallied to in their tens of thousands. Easy for Peter and the others to cast the Romans into the role of the Egyptian enslavers with Herod, or Pilate, or even the Empe...

This was what emptiness felt like. This act of intimacy, devoid of anything. The presence of a man, so close yet so far away. The sound of the other women, chatting as they passed the house, but not to her. The emptiness of her life, empty of joy, empty of hope, empty of meaning. She knew how she had got here, couldn’t imagine any other choices. All her paths led to the same place. Five husbands. Five. Each with reducing hope and now, a man, but not a husband. "At least I won’t be alone" she had lied, knowing that the day would soon come when even with his presence she would feel alone, perhaps, even more alone. It was over. In the past, there was always the hope that maybe, this time, she would be pregnant, but the continued emptiness of her womb echoed the emptiness of her life. She got up to wash the memory of him away, with the last of the water. He could bathe in the river later, he at least could still be seen in public. She dressed in silence and the drud...

Legion was terrified. He was terrified of the next outburst of uncontrolled, demon fuelled rage. Terrified of the injuries he would wake up with, terrified of the injuries to others that he would cause. He was terrified of the isolation his problems created, terrified of the fear he saw in the eyes of others, terrified of the loneliness that lay ahead. And right now, he could feel the terror of the demons that inhabited him. They were terrified of the one who they sensed was coming and their terror radiated through him. But worse than the terror they felt at Jesus coming was the unspeakable terror he had that he might not come. That somehow, the demons would prevent it, that he would turn away from the danger of being near him, that he would realise how unworthy he was of the risk and turn the boat around. The storm howled out of nowhere, the sound ripping at his mind, the wind tearing at the last vestiges of sanity, the screams of the demons a backdrop to the deep-throated...

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them, and they with me.” This is God, the sovereign creator of the universe. This is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. This is the one whose word of power continually sustains the stars in their courses. This is the God who dreamed about you before the foundation of the world. The one who knit the very essence of who you are together in your mother’s womb. This is the one who by right and by power could break down the door of your will in the smallest fraction of a second. But he stands and knocks. He calls your name. And waits. Not out of timidity, but out of strength. Not out of necessity, but out of choice. He honours you, he dignifies you and waits. And when, finally, we open the door, he doesn’t come in to berate. He doesn’t demand apology for why he had to wait so long. He doesn’t come in and look round with disdain or disappointment. He doesn’t hand ...