Let's Read the Bible in 2019

Photo credit: desiringgod.org

     COVER TO COVER III

     Among my most meaningful things to do

     while reading the Holy Scriptures through

     is write Messiah's name in the margin

     of the Old Testament, where'er I find Him.

     Of course, I do not find Jesus' name,

     but I certainly find Him, just the same.

     I find Him in the Lamb and the Lion,

     foreshadows of the Temple in Zion,

     find Him in Joshua, David, Passover,

     in the Song, the whale, cover to cover.

     I've thumbed through pages and jotted a few

     Messianic treasures to share with you:

     Messiah's birth’s foretold in Micah, five;

     seven centuries later, Jesus arrived;

     virgin birth proclaimed, Isaiah seven,

     a Son to be fathered by God in Heaven.

     Kings would bow down to Him and nations serve,

     Solomon's Psalm Seventy-two observed.

     He'd be pierced and mourned, said Zechariah;

     Our Redeemer, fifty-three, Isaiah,

     who prophesied resurrection glory!

     Genesis to Revelation, God's true story!

     The Word reveals a magnificent plan

     in this tome of Our Savior, God and Man.

         Well, now that Twenty Nineteen is here

         I’ll suggest a resolution without peer:

         Resolve to read before this year’s over,

         the Holy Bible, cover to cover.

         It contains everything you need to know

         about God’s love and grace and how to grow.

        You’ll read the story beginning to end

        of your Sovereign Savior and closest Friend!

     Maude Carolan Pych

    .

Simeon & Anna

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Today's selection is the final poem in the series...

Image credit: pinterest.com

SIMEON & ANNA

Simeon wondered

if he were seeing things

He rubbed his tired old eyes

squinted and peered again

at the little family

that came through the Temple doors

The Sanctuary

was shadowy and dim

Flames from the oil lamps

were flickering—

Were his eyes playing tricks?

Wasn’t this an ordinary family?

…a couple like any

ordinary Jewish couple

here to present their firstborn son

holy to the Lord?

Nothing special about them

Just poor folk

with two lowly turtledoves

for the sacrifice…yet?

Perhaps this was wishful thinking

Perhaps, his imagination

He needed to be sure

Simeon moved a bit closer

Oh, he’d been waiting so patiently

for the fulfillment of the promise

of the Lord to comfort Israel

He knew He would—

for the Holy Spirit

assured him

he absolutely would not die

until he beheld the Messiah

…but that was long ago

Suddenly an unmistakable quickening

began rising up in his spirit…Yes!

…O Glory! Glory!

He bounded

toward Mary and Joseph

with arms outstretched

and swooped up

their swaddled infant son

uttering prophetic proclamations

jubilant and terrifying

I behold God’s salvation!

A light to the Gentiles

The glory of God’s people Israel

and directly to Mary, he prophesied:

…a sword will pierce your soul

She shuddered…

for she knew God had a plan, but…

What could this mean?

Then the widow Anna approached

Bent and grey and pious

she was a prophetess

who dwelled in the Temple

most of her life, praying

fasting and serving the Lord

with a joyful heart

Spontaneous praise

sprang from her lips

as she beheld the babe

Then Anna proclaimed

to all who would listen:

Come and see…

This is our newborn redeemer!

…from that day forward

Jesus grew

in wisdom and grace

the Cross before Him…

…and a sword did pierce

Mary’s soul

Maude Carolan Pych

A Special Poem for Children...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

A SPECIAL POEM FOR THE CHILDREN...

Image credit: clipartmag.com

‘TWAS THE NIGHT…OF ALL NIGHTS!

Children, gather round. It’s time for a story,

one that’s filled with hallelujahs and glory.

It’s about the glorious night of all nights,

angels and magi and sight of all sights!

About God, a virgin, the birth of a king,

wooly sheep, poor shepherds and gift giving!

My story takes place long ago, far away

and starts with a Babe in a crib full of hay;

His mother’s a virgin, His father is God,

the birth, a miraculous Heavenly nod.

The Baby is born in a Bethlehem barn

near a few smelly animals, like on a farm.

Poor shepherds in a field shudder with fright

when suddenly the dark sky fills up with light

as beautiful angels, bright splendors winging

tell of the birth with hallelujahs and singing!

So, the shepherds and sheep the very next morn

set off to visit this special Newborn.

Rich wisemen follow a bright beaming star

to the Bethlehem barn; the journey is far.

They ride astride camels, carrying treasures

to give to the One they’ll worship forever.

Why in the world would they do such strange things?

Why travel so far? Why great treasures bring?

The reason is simple, the Babe in the hay

becomes the world’s Savior, Who takes sin away.

His name is Jesus and He loves you and me

and wants us to love Him for eternity.

That was the night of all nights here on Earth…

the wonderful story of Jesus’ birth!

Maude Carolan Pych

Have a Blessed Christmas

One and All!

Pray for Revival

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

The following is my new poem
for Christmas 2018.

Image credit: pinterest.com

REVIVE US, DEAREST JESUS

My Christmas Prayer

I’m standing by the manger, staring at Jesus in the hay

thinking of what my pastor said in his word to us that day.

He spoke of the time we live in and of people losing faith,

of disregard for God’s Holy Word, and a sharp increase in hate.

Many churches are closing or the Gospel gets watered down,

there’s disrespect for spiritual things and God is made a clown.

My pastor said he’s burdened; therefore he’s asking us to pray

for a nationwide revival; hope for all who’ve gone astray.

Dearest Baby Jesus, You were born to save us, this I know,

and by Your death upon the Cross, You conquered the evil foe;

so I pray people repent of sin and give their heart to You,

that they proclaim Your Holy Name, and seek to be Born Anew.

By amazing grace and unfailing love, splendors are in store

and by Your Resurrection there will be life forevermore.

Your desire is that none be lost, therefore I commit to pray

that indeed there’ll be revival and we’ll see it in our day,

that multitudes will flock to You, countless as the grains of sand,

that churches will fill up with faithful folks all across our land,

dusty Bibles will be opened and hearts will abound with love,

so I send my fervent Christmas prayer, straight to Your throne above.

Precious Lord, You are worthy to receive our honor and praise.

Draw all who need You, with Your great love, to walk in all Your ways—

Revive! Revive us, Jesus! I long to see what You will do

in answer to this Christmas prayer…all glory belongs to You!

Maude Carolan Pych

Think About It...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Image credit: byerschoice.com

IMAGINE

Imagine worshipping a cooing one moment, whimpering the next, born to save us, sweet baby God, lying in a trough filled with scratchy straw, needing a diaper change

Imagine worshipping a stone-kicking, frog-in-pocket, sticky-fingered, tousle-haired God, gleefully splish-splashing through mud-puddles along a rocky Nazareth road

Imagine worshipping a nose-in-the-Scroll, confident little-boy-God, teaching in the Temple, confounding elders with astonishing Truths, as His parents search for Him

Imagine worshipping a rugged, long-haired, son-of-a-carpenter adolescent God, as He learns (ironically) to skillfully select woods and deftly wield a hammer and nails

Imagine worshipping a gregarious, life-of-the-party, wedding-guest God, Who miraculously turns stone jars of purification water into jars of finest wine at Cana

Imagine worshipping a child embracing, woe pronouncing, multitude feeding, leper-cleansing God, Who walks upon water, instructs the wind and even raises the dead

Imagine worshipping a bread-breaking, wine-offering, foot-washing God, Who soon to be betrayed, beseeches His Heavenly Father, and sweats blood in an olive garden

Imagine worshipping a 30-something, blood-splattered, fist-struck, scourged and spat-upon God, laboriously lugging a cumbersome crossbeam to His Own execution

Imagine worshipping a thorn-crowned, sword-pierced, crucified-with-common-criminals sacrificial Lamb of God, as He dies sinless for the sin of the world

Imagine worshipping a resurrected three-days-after-burial God, Who appears ALIVE! Yes, ALIVE! in His own burial garden, in locked rooms and to strangers along the road

Imagine worshipping this crucified, resurrected, gloriously ascending-in-the-clouds, victorious Son of God, Who says, "Go into the world and tell them."

Tell them…

He did it for them

Imagine…

Maude Carolan

A Sword Will Pierce Her Soul...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

ANOTHER SILENT NIGHT

My friend Holly (who has a special

affinity with all things Christmas)

once gave me a picture

of Mary at the crib of Jesus—

She said the image of Mary

reminded her of one of my daughters

I framed the picture

and hung it on the wall

not because of any resemblance

to my daughter, but

because I was moved

by the striking look of anguish

upon Mary’s lovely face

This had to have been the day

Mary and Joseph went to the temple

to dedicate Jesus, the day

they offered two turtledoves

as a sacrifice for their firstborn son

Simeon was present when they came in

and knew immediately

by the power of the Holy Spirit

that this Child was

God’s promised Savior

He told Mary—

A sword will pierce your soul!

This silent night in Bethlehem

as Jesus lay sleeping

Mary lifts his tiny hand

to her trembling lips

She wonders about God’s marvelous plan

wonders how a Savior saves

and as she wonders, she feels

the point of an unseen sword

pressing against her flesh—

What did that wise old man mean?

There’s so much I do not know—

So much I do not want to know

tonight

Maude Carolan Pych

Yeshua Means Savior

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Image credit: pinterest.com

THE BABY NEXT DOOR

I saw him the other day

the baby boy who lives next door

His parents are poor Hebrews, like we are

He’s swaddled the same way we swaddle our babies

and he cries and coos just like our babies do, yet—

the brightest star I’ve ever seen

shines down upon him every night

and shepherds have left their fields

just to take a look at him

exclaiming all the while

about angels singing in the sky

Really? Angels in the sky—

One day I saw wisemen from afar

dressed in finery, ride in on camels

They were bearing costly gifts to honor him

and actually bowed prostrate

before his little cradle

I met his mother at the well, yesterday

Her name is Miriam (Mary)

She told me they’ve named him, Yeshua (Jesus)

Yeshua is a fine name. It means savior

Savior. We’ve been waiting for a savior—

Hmmmmm…

Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold, the Lamb"

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Rick Sabato's painting, "Lambs."

BEHOLD, THE LAMB

1.

In a grassy field in Bethlehem

a rugged old shepherd

tenderly smooths the wooly coat

of a pregnant ewe, as she bleats in labor

almost ready to deliver her offspring

He’s been through this many times—

Patiently, the shepherd remains with her

prepared to assist as she gives birth

Immediately following the delivery, he wisely wipes,

the membrane away from the lamb’s face

so it can breathe, while the mother

instinctively licks it all over with her tongue

In a few minutes, it rises on wobbly legs

and manages a few shaky steps

Then the shepherd picks it up

and carefully examines

every limb and joint and crevice

Finding no blemish

he wraps strips of swaddling cloth

around its delicate little hooves

to protect them from splintering or cracking

He’ll raise this spotless little lamb

with utmost care—

and present it to the Levitical priests

designated for sacrifice

upon the altar at the Temple in Jerusalem

as an atonement for sin

2.

The old shepherd

warms himself by the fire

with the younger men

when suddenly the sky is alight

with angels singing praises to God

and announcing with joy

the birth of Yeshua (Jesus), Savior of the World

Filled with great jubilation

the shepherds set off

with their flock, to honor Him

They don’t have far to travel

In a lowly stable outside an inn

they find the Babe

with His mother, Miriam (Mary)

and her husband, Yosef (Joseph)

Baby Yeshua is without blemish

swaddled and sleeping, in a make-shift cradle

that is actually a feeding trough for animals

Years go by

and in the fullness of time

the Man, Yeshua, presents Himself

to Yochanan (John), the Baptizer

on the shore of the Jordan River

As He approaches

Yochanan proclaims to all who will listen

Behold, the Lamb of God

who takes away the sin of the world![1]

A few years later

Yeshua, Son of God, the spotless Lamb

does exactly that, once and for all—

at the Cross

Maude Carolan Pych

---

[1]John 1:29 NASB

Humble, So Humble...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Image credit: wallpaper-gallery.net

LITTLENESS

Matthew 19:14

In a little manger, in a little town,

was born a little boy,

to a little family of little means.

He brought the world great joy!

If the Lord of All could come so small,

with the biggest, highest aim,

then why oh why must we buy and buy

for the day that bears His Name?

We shop, we trim, we bake, we cook,

we visit, we send, we party,

we run up the tally on credit cards,

the bills we pay are tardy.

While the hustle and bustle can be great fun,

sometimes it steals our peace,

sometimes the true Christmas spirit gets lost

when our busyness won’t cease.

From the little manger, the little town,

the crib of the little boy,

comes a little Christmas thought to muse,

which may heighten Christmas joy…

Let us celebrate with littleness,

become as the little Child,

with simplicity, wonder, innocence,

pure Love that’s undefiled…

and the Savior, Our Lord, who was that Child,

shall smile at us, well pleased,

“For the kingdom,” He said, “of Heaven belongs

to people such as these!”

Maude Carolan

An Old Fashioned Christmas...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Photo credit: countryliving.com

ONE CHRISTMAS IN THE EARLY 5O’S

I sat with my nose pressed

against the frosty kitchen window,

staring hard into the black starry sky

looking for snowflakes,

searching for Santa in his sleigh,

straining to see a tiny red light

that might be the tip of Rudolph’s nose.

Mommy said Santa wouldn’t come

until I went to sleep,

so I put on new flannel pajamas

trimmed with red piping,

and went to bed.

I heard noises, elfin noises?

Kneeling on my bed,

peering out the window,

I spied my father

dragging evergreens from the car.

Soon I heard Mommy, Daddy,

Aunt Carol and Uncle Fred whispering,

heard them rustling around

moving things, the buzz of a drill.

I worried that the commotion

would keep Santa away,

but soon my eyes wouldn’t stay open.

I awoke very early

and roused Carol and Frankie.

We tiptoed downstairs

where we were dazzled by a fir

decorated with big bright bulbs

and bubbling candle lights,

shiny glass balls,

silvery tinsel shimmering

reflections in the glow,

and a glittering star way up on top.

Aunt Carol was curled on the sofa,

Uncle Fred lay snoring

in an overstuffed chair.

Beneath the tree was not

the perky Toni I prayed for

and asked Santa to bring

when I sat on his lap at Quackenbush’s,

but a different yellow-haired doll

with little pink curlers,

an oversized tricycle

with a fresh coat of chartreuse

and a Chinese Checkers game.

My sock, bursting with candy,

hung from a cardboard fireplace

covered with red brick printed paper.

Soon our aunt and uncle awoke,

then Mommy and Daddy.

We were told Daddy

had taken the last scrawny pines

from an abandoned tree lot

after his night shift at Wright’s.

He and Uncle Fred drilled holes

into the trunk of the best,

fitted in branches from others.

They stood it on a stand

with Daddy’s old green Lionels

circling around.

Carol and I bundled and walked

to Mass at St. Bonaventure’s,

leaving our new toys behind.

When we got home,

there was sausage and eggs,

a stollen coated with powdery sugar,

filled with tiny pieces

of red, green and yellow fruit,

(which we picked out),

and mugs of rich steamy cocoa,

with a big Campfire marshmallow

melting and bobbing on top.

Maude Carolan