Here is a collection of most of the poems I have written in the past couple of years:

He of Whom Prophets Had Spoken

The Father cried tears
The Son's heart was broken
Yes, this was He
Of whom prophets had spoken

The Lamb on a cross
The God on a tree
The King crowned with thorns
In shame and glory

What love there displayed!
What justice was done
When God, in pain
Gave His only Son

Darkness surrounds Him
Bruised, bloody, naked
He cries in the silence
"Why have You forsaken?"

His question resounds
In my quivering heart
Breathless, I listen
Then it pierces the dark:

"It is finished!" His voice
Shakes me, and the earth
Convulses and mourns
As He suffers the curse

We fall to the ground
In terror and wonder
I tremble to watch
The Trinity sundered

Who is this God?
This God on a tree
It should have been me
It should have been me

For I slapped Him and scorned Him
I mocked Him that day
Yet, "Father, forgive them"
Was all He would say

The tears of the Father
Break into my soul
I look to my Savior
Shattered, made whole

He saved me by grace
Conquered death by His love
He is risen, and now
Interceding above

Forget not this story
It cost God His life
Remember His love
Remember the price

The Father cried tears
The Son's heart was broken
Yes, this was He
Of whom prophets had spoken.

July 5, 2014

The Inn

I'm running
Over hills of green, with clouds above
A thunder crash spurs me on
As sky touches earth with rain
The masses above, rolling, enfolding
Black like midnight ink
A flash lights my way
Fading in the misty grey

I'm soaking
Clothes plastered to my skin
I look behind and hurry on
I search, look for the place
Where shelter may be found
Beneath the leafy green
To hide, from storm unseen

I'm tired
The distance stretches on
The pounding of my weary feet
Along the path, echoing
The beating of my heart
With short, panting breath
Pausing for a rest

I'm kneeling
Who cares about the mud
Rain and mist swirl around
No song of bird, nor snap of twig
To break the stillness now
I bow my dripping head
And hear a voice, instead

I'm here
Get up, go on My child
Don't stay here in the rain
For just ahead, o'er one more hill
Awaits a little Inn
It's safe and dry
There now, don't cry

I'm walking
The rain begins to cease
And sun lights up the path
My hand in His, we reach the top
Look, I see the Inn!
He, smiling, urges me
So I run, eagerly

I'm running

June 12, 2013

Fill Me

Before Thy throne of grace I bow;
Speechless, it seems, to say
The things that You already know
Are on my heart today.

I find myself here once again --
An everyday routine;
But Lord, today, You see I thirst;
I plead with You, fill me.

Fill me, and take my prideful heart,
My fearful tendency,
My quest for recognition and
My self-sufficiency.

Take all these things, and in their place,
Give me a strong desire
To glorify my King alone,
Be lighted with Your fire.

Lord, move me where Your Spirit leads,
To go where You may call,
To say what You would have me say,
To willingly give all.

It may not be on mountain's height,
Or over stormy sea,
It may not be at battle's front,
Where God may soon need me;

If by a still, small voice He calls
To paths I do not know,
I'll answer with my hand in Thine,
I'll go, my Lord, I'll go.

But now, I pray, "Fill me."
This is my earnest plea.

Valerie Jacobson
Jan. 2, 2012

The Painter’s Canvass
Nov. 5, 2011

Standing in the golden light,
The Painter, brush in hand;
The canvass sits, incomplete,
Awaits His soft command.

The bristles brush back and forth;
Yellow, green, and blue,
Black and white, purple, pink,
But wait, here’s something new.

His brush He plunges in the red
And draws it, poised to strike…
Stop! That corner’s set, it’s dry;
What’s there not to like?

With shaking head He sweeps across,
“No, not done quite yet.”
The black on white, now in part
Veiled by paint still wet.

Who am I to question
The One who’s painting me?
But why, oh why, must He hide
The art we once could see?
I know I’m not the Painter,
I cannot see it all,
The Master Artist knows what’s best
And He will make that call.

Sometimes I feel the need to paint
The picture of my life:
“Look here, this fine design I’ve drawn,
Now paint it green and white.”

Patiently, with gaze intent
The Painter carries on,
Undaunted by what seems to me
A masterpiece gone wrong.

Stepping back, He eyes His work;
A smile plays on His lips.
He chooses now the finest brush
For such a time as this.

He dips it gently in the gold
And with each careful stroke,
Unveils the beauty in His mind;
This never was a joke.

Who am I to question
The One who’s painting me?
Why ever did I doubt His skill,
His great ability?
Because I’m not the Painter
I cannot see how much
The artistry will be revealed
In His final touch.

Standing in the golden light,
The Painter, brush in hand;
The canvass sits, incomplete
Awaits His soft command.

The Edge
June 19, 2011 

Close to the edge
But not close enough to see
Hard to imagine
What will there be?

I step a little closer
Hesitant to even peek
A knowledge of the other side
Not sure I want to seek

I peer from a safe distance
Into the great unknown
Too blurry, it hurts the eyes
And I turn. I'm not alone.

Twenty-five pairs of eyes
All return my gaze
Look out there; look at each other
As if we're in a daze

We step a little closer
Catch a glimpse of what lies ahead
Expecting to see 26 together
Realizing we'll be apart, instead

A dull ache begins to grow
Excitement, sadness, fear
I quickly shut my eyes
Must not shed the first tear

We think of all the memories --
Of how the Lord, our Guide
Brought us here, once just a class
Now a Family, close and tried

Hand in hand, we look again
Out to the world beyond
A spark has lit within our hearts
In Christ we'll keep this bond

We must not let the spider web
Of not too long ago
Ever break, though time and space
May come between. Do not let go.

And we'll go forth, beyond the edge
To greater heights unknown
We'll trust each other to the Lord
And pray, for it's been shown
That a people, a class who puts Him first
Shall reap a great reward
Though we are sad to leave each other
It's a price we can afford

For God is eagerly waiting
Preparing our home in Heaven
To welcome our Family into His
The Class of 2011

Press On
April 21, 2011
Words and Music by Valerie Jacobson and Jessica Hall
With Thanks to Anna Fink and Cyrus Guccione
All Praise Goes to God

1st Vs:
"Lord, the battle's raging;
It's drawn out through the night.
I just don't think I have the strength
To keep up with the fight.
The dawn begins to rise;
I see more clearly in the light.
The enemy looks stronger
With overwhelming might. 

And You say:
"Look up to Me, don't let your courage ever falter.
The battle seems uphill; take heart, I've called you higher.
Just take My word, unsheathe the sword,
With prayer you'll not go wrong.
I will give you strength; press on."

2nd Vs:
When I think the battle's over
The foe attacks again
Lord, let me not my guard let down
Or to my self give in. 
For inside there is a battle
And self the enemy.
Pride, temptation, circumstance:
The chains of self I see. 

"But look up to Me, don't let your courage ever falter.
The battle seems uphill; take heart, I've called you higher.
Just take My word, unsheathe the sword,
With prayer you'll not go wrong.
I will give you strength; press on."

But when you see the standard falling,
And you fear that all is lost;
You must hear the Captain calling,
"Go forward, count the cost."

Last Chorus:
"Look up to Me, don't let your courage ever falter.
The battle seems uphill; take heart, I've called you higher.
Just take My word, unsheathe the sword,
With prayer you'll not go wrong.
I will give you strength,
Oh, I will give you strength,
I will give you strength; press on."

A Soldier's Prayer
January 22, 2011

Lord, I'm tired of it all,
tired of fighting, of taking
a few steps, but then fall;
It's not just the old ones,
but the young soldiers too;
At least this one,
she's one of the few
who to her comrades may appear
to hold nothing in life
'cept Your mission dear.

But it's a lie.

Now don't get me wrong --
To die for that mission,
she enlisted, with strong
resolve to complete.
To go forward
To forsake all for the call
and count all but loss
no matter the cost.

But in the thick of battle
resolve starts to break.
When the mighty foe presses in,
how much more can she take?

I have not the strength
To meet the strength
of the attacks
To return blow for blow
I'm being pushed back

Who is this foe?
Who makes the attack?
from within.

It is me. My self.

And I
hold Your mission dear.
This soldier, her focus clear
at times. But the enemy
Has infiltrated
Has betrayed
Has battled
Has blurred
Made dear to her these things else:
pride, desire, temptation --
The chains of self.

I have not the strength
To shake off these chains.
But I will try again
I will fight again
I will somehow win

And You say:
"Will you stop living a lie?
Yes, you must try again.
Yes, you must fight again.
Yes, you will somehow win.
But not with those chains on.
It is My mission or those,
what will you choose?

"The choice is yours
But you have not the strength."

This soldier has not the strength to battle at all
She takes a few steps, but then falls.
She holds dear the chains
She holds dear Your mission
She fights with confusion.
She cannot see
But she will go forward
Forsake all for the call
Count all but loss
No matter the cost.

I have not the strength
But You are my Strength
Break the chains
Return the blows
Push self back
Press the attack

I will somehow win.

June 19, 2010

How can one feel
So numb and careless
Yet they are broken inside?
Why is it,
When it feels as if
I will break down and cry,
Instead it feels my heart is stone…
Or gone?
Perhaps that’s what it is:
My brain wants to feel, but
My heart
Is not there to feel it?
Yet everyone has one,
That is why
I feel this way.
Maybe I’ve been ready so long,
And even my feeble attempts
At self-control
Have been all too successful,
Leaving me,
A confused pile of thoughts.

How can one look
So happy and cool,
Yet inward conflicts rage?
It’s a skill
I’m having to learn.
Is it fake?
Is it right?
Is it cowardly?
Is it strong?

It is reality.

Building that wall
Does not appeal to me,
But sometimes
It has to happen,
Else the knife that tears at me
Will turn on others too.
Then how to escape
This sad reality?

I’m searching for the answer,
And yet I already know.
It’s You Lord
With whom I must not build that wall.
When it’s not right to burden others
With all my numb pain,
Depressed happiness,
Excited fear,
Sorrowful gladness,
I can go to You
And know I’m safe.
‘Cause the knife in me
Has already been felt by You
On a hill far away.

So Lord, I’ll say
I’ve fallen on my face
Or I’m in the process.
Catch me, pick me up.
Hug me, patch me up.
Love me, fill my cup.
“For when I am weak,
Then I am strong.”

April 26, 2010

  Last night the Lord said to me
"Wait" when I asked Him to make me see—
—Make sense of the confusion raging in me.
Too much to think about, it was no wonder
That it hurt too much to ponder
About it all, and not just that,
But I was tired of thinking,
Tired of blinking back tears,
When I just couldn't figure out
What God was telling me about.

I felt Your voice speaking inside;
When I called, You did not hide.
But You said it wasn't for me to know
The answers all at once and so
You said "Wait."
"What for?" I asked, but that was all.
I didn't complain, You answered the call.

But still, Lord, I can't help but ask:
How long till You lift the mask?
I guess that in reality
You really said, "Just wait and see."
So Lord that's what I'm choosing to do,
I'll just have to trust in You.

'Cause I know all things work together for good
For those who love You, and even if I could,
Not for the world would I let go of You;
You're the One who has brought me through
All the rough times before.
I just can't wait to see what You have in store.

Till then I'll wait patiently
And treasure the peace You've given me.
Lord, just please hold me up,
'Cause like I've said, one hand is not enough.
I heard Your warning, that it will be tough,
That it will be hard, but I know
That You will keep me even so.
I'm all of Yours,
And I will wait.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...