Beggar

A poem I started awhile ago about showing the love of Christ unconditionally.

A beggar sits on filthy ground,

His only friend a puny hound.

He calls to those who pass him by:

“There is no god up in the sky!”

The beggar stands up from the ground,

His cup it makes no clinking sound.

His stature slight, those ‘round him tall,

He stalks to richest of them all.

“Now listen here,” he says to him,

While failing light makes eyes grow dim,

“I have no food, nor soap, nor clothes,

While you have all, no, more than those!

“Please sir, give me just one small scrap

Of food, or water up to lap.”

The rich man scoffs, with chins to spare,

And grabs the beggar by the hair.

“Now this will teach you,” Rich man shouts,

Voice loud as a drunken lout’s,

“To never e’er approach a man.

For all your kind should be a ban.”

He throws the beggar man away.

The sky recedes to darkening gray.

The beggar nurses Rich Man’s punch.

When Rich Man leaves, a sickening crunch.

The beggar looks to where he’d stepped,

And after that the beggar wept.

For his dear friend, by Rich Man’s hand,

Was trampled into dusty sand.

The evil Rich Man stops and grins

At recent, deathly, evil sins,

While beggar cannot help but cry

For scroungy mutt, who heaves a sigh.

While injured dog breathes his last,

Unceasing tears for pup that passed

Proceed from beggar’s aging eyes.

His broken spirit will not rise.

Alas! To mend the searing pain

Of wounds and cur who just was slain,

A man approaches beggar’s lair,

His eyes reflecting loving care.

“My crippled friend, my mourning gent,”

The man speaks to the cripple, bent,

“Do not grieve, and weep no more;

This very day, come thru my door!”

“Kind sir, I fear I can’t do this.”

The cripple says, his eyes a’mist.

“I can’t impose, no not at all.

I don’t deserve a roof and wall.”

“Of course you don’t! But ne’er do I.

All men should mourn below the sky.

It’s what they’ve earned, their very wage.

Or perhaps, to dwell encaged.

“But God is good, who gives us gifts,

He makes us soar, our spirit lifts.

If He has given gifts to me,

Ought I encourage also thee?”

“Sir, my friend, my gentle master,

Be you a priest, rabbi, or pastor?

No normal man would ever call

Filthy men to enter his wall.

“Indeed, I shall accept your deal,

Thank you for giving me a meal!”

So Cripple went with Honest Man

To his abode, his friendly land.

For this is what Believers do,

They look past lack of clothes or shoe,

They look past race or creed or kin,

They welcome brother humans in.

We show the love of Christ fully,

That we might help others wholly.

For hiding Love is dumb indeed

When we’ve been called the poor to feed.

Cripple saw the Love of Jesus,

Knew that Love will never leave us,

And put his faith for all its worth.

“There is a God who made this Earth.”

Beauty in Death

If you have ever seen a Sequoia, you know that God is a genius. Their height is breathtaking, their width is astounding, and seeing them en masse is positively mind-blowing.

I have seen these trees on family vacations since I was young, but only this year have I seen them after their death. The stumps were catastrophic; as wide as a school bus is long, but they were not the truly amazing thing. The amazing things were the trees which had died naturally. One tree had been burnt out, but the trunk had acted as a chimney, so although the outside of the tree was still partially intact (and quite tall, in truth), the inside of the tree was hollowed out with fire. The outside of the tree was fantastic; it still stood about thirty feet high with great gashes throughout -- dips and peaks presented themselves with a natural inconsistency that made the spectacle all the more perfect. One could walk inside of the tree, an excellent experience by all means. The entrance to the Elf-like tree preluded a thin pathway filled with spiderwebs and blackened wood which ended in a small tree-cave from which one could see the sky. A small crevice in the back, about the length of an average man, could serve as a sleeping quarter (and would if I were allowed to live in a National Park).

My group stopped by another dead tree, and I honestly have no idea how it died. It seemed to me that it fell but broke in the middle as it did so, leaving the roots submerged. This produced a fabulous sight which looked like a wooden version of the White Witch’s fortress; gargantuan splinters reaching heavenward with small platforms to stand upon.

This displayed unambiguously the omniscience of my heavenly Father, who makes things beautiful even in death. How He loves us, that we might see His creation and have peace. He truly is the God of all comfort who shows us His greatness that we might lean on His everlasting arms.

My cousin died in February of this year. He was twenty-four. My first thought when I heard this was why? How could God take someone so young, especially when he seemed to be coming back from a dark place? How could God deprive my Aunt and Uncle of their son? But then I began to see the beauty of it. I saw that God had preserved my family; that no one in my family had died for about a decade, despite terrible car crashes for multiple members that should have taken their lives. I saw through the tears and the sorrow that God wanted us to see how blest we were; how blest we are. At the memorial service I saw my other cousin grow. He displayed his sorrow at his brother’s death, but through his tears and his agony he also displayed the fact that, although he wish he could have changed what happened that night, he knew that God had taken his brother home. Most people would only talk about memories of their dead brother. My cousin talked about his brother’s future, because through this death, my cousin saw that God had a plan for him and his family. My Aunt and Uncle ministered to their deceased son’s associates, they encouraged his acquaintances to persevere even after the loss of their own son. This is decidedly a component of abundant life. People encouraging others after a tragedy, and that encouragement (which means so much more after a loss) causing others to blossom in living. God truly loves irony, that He would allow death to make us live fully. When He takes someone home He gives us something to look forward to, so that when our time has come, we are able to finish the race while looking forward to the end result (which is being able to see those whom we love again).

Be it through nature or through loved ones, God shows us that there is beauty in all aspects of life. Even in death.