Thursday, July 28, 2016


Let’s solve the problem of race wars
With a grammar rule.
Now come with me for a moment;
We’re going back to school.

A noun can only be a thing,
A person, or a place;
An adjective that walks with it
Will give the noun its face.

The adjective rules o’er it mate
And identity,
So I put limits on myself
By describing me.

If I say “white” to modify
The Christian as the noun,
I limit and define my God
By some earthly crown.

But I—by the blood He shed for us—
Am my Father’s own.
Thus I put the Christian first
And followed by skin tone.

Let Christian be the adjective
Defining any race,
We would see a new world peace
Sans bigotry’s disgrace.

And think, ye friends of many colors,
We all are equal souls,
And all lives matter in a time
When God holds all controls.

We’ll be the nouns of every color
With a Christian adjective
That well defines and shapes us all
In Grace that’s His to give.

                        --Monty Wheeler

*This piece comes as inspiration from a pastor in Texas and his sermon I happened to hear on the radio while driving. I missed his name and I out-distanced the signal before the end of the sermon but I love his message in its pure simplicity.  I can only hope I got it right.*

Sunday, July 24, 2016


Like waters, nations rise to fall.

As nations answer Satan’s call,
Naught might live in a dried up flow
Of a nation lost
Where politicians, like the buzzard,
Feed on the decay of a nation’s heart,
Telling man that they have a plan
To save
Then set themselves apart.
And foolish man—
Too arrogant to see his fate—
Perchance has waited far too late.

But then perhaps…

One hope still lies—the only one—
In the Holy Ghost revival.

Hope for our eternity’s
In those who find revival.

With hands raised up to God on High,
Those who believe send up the cry,
“Let us know revival!”

In the great out-pouring of the Holy Ghost,
Those who oppose will not stand
Against the Mighty One’s command,
And we shall find revival.

It comes.

Begins, perhaps, with a single voice
And sweeps like a wave or ocean’s tide
O’er a sunbaked shore
Through one church, a town, then nation-wide
And thus begins revival.

Those who heed deceivers’ lies
Cannot ebb a river’s flow,
Cannot stop the winds that blow,
Cannot stem the ocean’s tide
As revival lights the darkest waters.

Dried up rivers rage and oceans swell;
“Hosanna!” rises from the well
Of those who see the tattered veil,

And Jesus says, “I come.”

Lord, I pray, in this dark day,
To be washed in Your Light of revival.

                        --Monty Wheeler

Monday, July 11, 2016


Greater men than I
 Have found dark favor
In temptation’s eye,
And Satan laughs at the fall and folly,
When time and again
Man falls to sin.

Hear that cackle?
Insidious glee.

I’ve heard that laugh in restless slumber,
Where darkness closes in
And seven spirits more add to the number
Feasting on my sin.
And I’ve cried, “Help!  I’ve fallen,
“And I can’t get up!”
But make no mockery
For the fall from grace
Into Satan’s embrace
Is a terrible place to be.
And pride keeps the jailer’s key.

Does not matter where man lives,
In wealth or pauper’s penury,
The fall from grace might well be eternity.

There is no, “Onions, cheese,
“Hold the mayo, please,”
 When time to swallow pride,
And believe, ye, me
It won’t go down smooth as summer’s tea.

But somewhere amidst the tears,
Amidst the fears,
Amidst the seemingly senseless rambles
Of words I never knew,
The Holy Spirit opens the door,
Sweeps out the pride like sweeping the floor
And grace fills its place once more.
Thank you, Jesus.

                        --Monty Wheeler