Tuesday, October 29, 2019

COULD I?

Not a cloud in the sky.
Who’d not wonder why?
But Noah built a boat.

No sign of a plight,
No water in sight,
But Noah built a boat.

And through the task ‘cross many years,
Perchance through mockery and tears
Noah built a boat.

Would I?

Who doesn’t like to think they’d be like him,
Not giving in to the devil’s taunting whim?

Could I?

Stay the course through toil and travail?
Stay the course sans worry of fail?
Not in and of myself;
Not with God put on a shelf.

Dear Heavenly Father, I need Your hand upon my head, for of myself, I’m limited in what I’d do for you, but in the Holy Ghost I’d find your power. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

                --Monty Wheeler



Monday, February 25, 2019

THE GUILT


With naked soul, she came in utter shame
for guilt has ways to win;
sans Jesus there's no chance to run
the guilt from deep within

There's those who'd say God's not the way
for God does not exist
and there is naught of Life's big book,
no names are on a list.

Strip down thy soul and give thy whole
to feel thy spirit soar;
ye'd know He's there; He's everywhere;
there's urge to want Him more.

Then back to guilt, that damning thing
that will destroy God's child;
it yields to naught but Jesus' blood
so we'd be reconciled.

Stripped of pride. she stepped inside

a world outside herself

and closed her old life like a book;

it's forever on a shelf.

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

TREE OF FAITH


He told the woman, 
“Your faith has made you whole.”
Dear Heavenly Father, 
let that same faith fill my soul.

The Bible’s about faith in God above,
who He is;
                    who He is to me,
It's all about faith or lack thereof;
from beginning end,
                                  and I pray,
Dear Heavenly Father, help this seed
of faith grown into a giant oak tree. 

©2019 by Monty Wheeler

Saturday, February 9, 2019

SALVATION'S SONG


Let us come—and boldly so—
To the Throne by grace.
Jesus lit the path we’d walk
To that eternal place.

The Son of God, the Son of Man,
The one whom we would shun—
Cried out in His disgrace, “Forgive!
“They know not what they’ve done!”

Salvation’s start from that pure heart
Still calls to everyone.
And just as then, in these sad days,
Many elect to shun…

A rich man’s idol shines of Gold;
A poor man’s troll is wood,
But Jesus is the same for all
Who’d claim His name and blood.

It started on a wooden cross,
Then in that upper room,
The Pentecostal fires would rage;
The Holy Spirit’s come!

Long before, it had been writ,
Told in prophesy,
God would pour His spirit out
Upon all flesh—that’s me.

I ran as if a small, scared child
From some abuser’s hand,
A lifetime spent in running from
What I’d not understand.

I taunted, mocked and called them names,
Fools and hypocrites.
I laughed, but felt that laughter sink
Into the hellish pits.

Yet God would lead by lock of hair
Or tugging at my ear
Like a spoiled child might go
To the corner’s chair.

I couldn’t know He led me so;
I guarded my heart there.
But Pentecostal fires will burn
In Full Gospel’s atmosphere.

Somewhere in some proverbial sea,
I floundered helplessly.
The devil pulled but Jesus lifted;
O, sink or be set free!

“God!” I cried, “please take my pride!
“Before I sink into the tide!”
Something gave in my blubbering wave;
He washed me from inside.

Few would know how changed winds blow,
For dark are secrets held
When doors from the past fly open at last
To salvation, as He willed.

And thus begins Revival’s winds,
First inside of me.
Perhaps the Good Lord has some task
To set that tempest free.

If I’d still breathe upon the day
God showed to Joel back then,
"Dear Lord, I’ll pray that as You say,
I’ll dream with those old men.”

©2019 by Monty Wheeler

Wednesday, February 6, 2019

House Divided


No more “One nation under God.”
And like sticks will break one by one
We fall as a nation divided,
For separated, tis easier done.

We shall fall like some right-field fly ball
Into some barbarians’ abyss.
Yet some will cry, “You lie! You lie!
“You can never speak of this!”

And yet…the future’s already told;
Our future’s history’s there
In the Bible’s Revelations,
And this nation’s there nowhere.

What hope have we but to prolong our fate,
And for a time stand bold and strong?
What hope have we when—bitter—we fight
O’er the simplest right versus wrong?

As a sea would part, we’re divided of heart,
And a devil’s chasm opens wide.
A cloven hoof? Or a staff and rod?
And each condemns the other side.

United we stand. Divided we fall,
And partisans divide us all.
Quicker they bring this nation’s end;
Quicker we come to Judgement’s call.

©2019 by Monty Wheeler

A FOOL AND HIS WILL


How easily a fool doth see
Like blind men walk along
How deep and dark the fool’s abyss
When all he thinks is wrong!

I—happy—walked along a path,
Mislead by many signs.
I lied to me and all who’d hear,
“This path’s of God’s designs.”

I so believed—or wanted to—
That in God’s will I merrily skipped
But worlds collide where “real” and “lie”
Leave sweet fancies ripped.

There is no fancy greater than
Believing God has led,
Then to find the deceiver’s mind
Was always in my head.

“Liar!” I cried of self,
And yes, I lent an ear.
I’d walk the roads named Will of God
But they lay “over there.”

I whispered lies in my own ear,
Believed the fantasy
For all the while I lied with that,
“I know God talks to me.”

“Now what to do?” I asked of God
In poem of fervent prayer.
That soft, still voice ne’er spoke to me;
God’s will lay “over there.”

Would motive be where I went wrong?
Did I try bartering
With praise to Him?  Forgive me, Father,
I’ve sinned against my King.

Perchance, as Eliphaz has said,
“He’s caught the crafty wise.”
I met my dark in night of day
And groped with night’s blind eyes.

Thus he cries, “Behold!” to Job
And, “Happy is the man
“Whom God corrects in chastised bruise
“Then heals.”  He always can. 

I walked a lie and wondered why
God’s will lay “over there.”
I walked in praise expecting trades
And made my sinner’s lair.

I woke to sun; the world still spun;
The Good Book lay near by.
If God would slap the sinner’s hand,
He’d kiss the tear-stained eye.

O, to seek His will and way,
I must have humble brow
Not thinking what He’ll do for me;
It’s faith.  I know that now.

©2019 by Monty Wheeler

Saturday, May 27, 2017

THERE COMES A DAY


I lay mine kiss upon thy brow,
Once smooth but wrinkled now,
And as thy soul takes Heaven’s flight,
I hear your solemn vow.

We’ll meet again in Heaven.

Thy body’s naught but an empty cup
That you no longer fill;
Lids to thy empty eyes raise up
But not by a once-strong will.

They gather round us, all of them,
All your friends and kin.
I brush gray hair from your blind eyes
And cry all o’er again.

No I’m sorry or If you need…
Consoles the wounded heart;
I need you more than ever now.
Oh, why did  you depart?

Until we meet again in Heaven…

                        --Monty Wheeler