Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Thumbs don’t seem important, Lord

until we lose one
or a stiff joint begins to bend
like a rusted hinge.

How brilliantly
You have made us, and yet
we cringe at the sight
of our roller-coaster-looking skin.

Can any sin compare to our lack
of praise?

Forgive us, Lord, for thinking thumbs
are not important
or forgetting how much we need them
to open an obstinate jar or push
in a thumb tack or click our fingers in time
to music.

Praise You, Lord, for placing
flexible thumbs on hands
intended to serve You.

Help us to give
a thumbs-up to every part
of the brilliantly beautiful
Body of Christ.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Monday, August 15, 2016

God fell in love with me

and you and them!

We did nothing
to deserve it.

Sin marred our skin
and made us unattractive,
but God looked through
the blemishes and took
away every mark against us,
so we could be happy
enough with ourselves
to believe in His love.

What a joy! What a wonder!
What a relief to be loved
for our truest selves,
thanks be to God!

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Saturday, August 13, 2016

The heavens belong to You, O Lord,

and You’ve given the earth
to the children of mankind,
but we are not kind.

We’ve tarred the land
with roads and killed
what scared us and tilled
under trees and drained
swamps and fueled the
ozone with jet streams.

What’s wrong with us?
Can’t we stop rejecting
the bats feeding on bugs
the snakes reducing rats,
the politicians in need
of prayers and protecting.

Praise the Lord! Praise
You, Lord!
Nothing is wrong with You!

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Thursday, August 11, 2016

Jesus asked, Why?

Why did you doubt Me?
Why did you have little faith?
Don’t you know I Am?

Oh, Lord, heal my unbelief!
Help me raise my eyes to You.
Help me feel relief in praise.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016
#aahcoo

Monday, August 8, 2016

I want to walk on water

but I cannot see Your face.
Grace me with Your presence, Lord.
Reach out Your hand,
and raise me into praise.

Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016
#aahcoo

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

The owl did not call my name

but flew by without a sound –
barely above the ground – before
landing on a lower branch
of the cedar we call “Leb,”
then turning its back to me
to display grey-brown feathers
dappled in white to match
the tree’s catch of sun.

The owl still did not call
me nor ask the important
question: Who? Who?
But I know, Lord, it’s You –
The One Who truly
knows my name.

Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Saturday, July 30, 2016

O You, Who tests the mind

and heart, let no enemy
find my soul apart from You –
The One True Source
of consistent praise.
Pursue me, Lord,
persistently.

Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Monday, July 25, 2016

Blood of a cockroach

on the bottom of my shoe –
sad way to start a day.

Blood of Christ
on my hands –
forgiveness and praise
coursing through my veins.
#aahcoo



Mary Harwell Sayler
, © 2016


Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Jesus has authority

to free us all from sin –
healing and forgiving us,
so we won’t fall again
for any old enticements
that plunge us into shame.
Praise the power of His Name!

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016
#aahcoo

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Praise God my Lover

Who showers me with good gifts
and fields of flowers,
Who whispers my name
and waits patiently for me
to answer His request
to be Christ’s Bride forever.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Saturday, July 2, 2016

Skeletons fell on our deck, O Lord

– two the blackened bones
of baby birds, one most likely
a lizard, its long white spine
outlining its form.

Rain washed these bones
from the nest of a hawk, high
overhead in our magnolia tree,
whose brown-flecked petals
are falling still and quietly
curling on our deck – another
reminder of passing time and death.

When it comes, Lord, I know
You’ll be here with more strength
to carry me than these pine boards
on which I stand -- and surely
with less ferocity than the baby
birds and lizard bore at the beaks
of those young hawks – grown now
and flown away, leaving behind
skeletal reminders of my own.

They say awareness of our mortality
brings wisdom, Lord, but I’m
thinking it gives cause for faith
to seek and find You, breathing
life into my bare bones of thanks
and praise.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016