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By Jethro Smith

The Wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men,
who suppress the Truth in unrighteousness.
In and out
In and out
Heavily I draw these life-giving breaths of Grace
Laced with smoke
Lit by darkness
My eyes project confusion through filters of the lies I believe
Taking snapshots of a world filled with people I see, through lenses of Jealousy, lust
Saturated with self
Smudged in sin
While fast footsteps pound in my ears…
dread,
They sound wet
The smell of fresh blood rises to my brain…
Wait!
Those are my feet?!
Leaving pathways of destruction in a fast lane
How did I get here?
I can hear the carnal roar of my flesh, with it’s monstrous hunger
I can taste the metal of that blood Pouring from self-sacrifice
Filling up self righteousness
Pride swells its chest and I’m full of me…
For now
Flooding the loving light in layers of sin
Stick around long enough and I’ll even tell you this is who I am
These are my ID documents see?
Just please don’t speak the Truth whatever you do
Cause I’m allergic
It causes me to convulse, groan, cringe in shame
It’s the same language spoken by the Creator of this breath that I’m running from
I am a poem
Written in the ink stains
Of dead deeds
Society and sin.
A voice said cry out and i said what shall i cry?
All flesh is Grass and all its loveliness like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades.
Because the breath of the Lord blows upon it.
Surely the people are grass,
The grass withers, the flowers fades
But the Word of the Lord Stands forever.
A large ancient stone stands.
Blocking my path to hell, carried easily by an old man, with the smile of a baby.
He opens his mouth saying the Author of life died for me?
Before an allergic reaction kicks in,
Pieces of the stone splinter off.
Covering the sky, sun and cries of sin,
Grains of sand, but with the Divine weight of the Ancient of days,
His words strike into the chords of my coiled DNA.
From the same voice that breathed out stars He breathes onto my dry bones, life.
A light switches on somewhere in the darkness.
I try to resist but it’s too late.
Grace unveils the shades and lifts my gaze to the
Creator
Servant
King
My sentence seemed so final until the Author edited,
Crossing the T’s with His blood where Love and Truth met and married,
Dotting the I’s with a crown of thorns.
Worn for my Idolatry, Idleness, I think it’s all about me!
They dug into His brow,
Drawing out righteous blood.
Sacrificing self, wealth and reputation.
He took my sin and with His Life formed an incorruptible seed. Planted in my heart it starts growing out from death..
We are God’s poem
Created in Jesus for good works
Which He prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.
Being born again means:
I am not my own
This is not my home
Death has become gain
And everyday a Stanza of His Glory unfolding as I hold onto the Head.
He said, “It is finished.”
“Paid in full.”
Now a transfusion of God’s blood pumps my heart out.
Daily
With confession Christ forgives, cleanses, covers.
Yet some stubborn sin stained still remains under the skin though, so falling, He lifts me.
Free from condemnation
To drink up the pure milk of His Word.
Transforming
It lives in me richly.
To nourish His body.
More than a family!
Joined in His love we sing songs of deliverance.
And I pick up the Sword of the Spirit,
Which is the Word of God.
So that,
By His grace I can boldly echo, Go!
Make disciples of all nations.
And wear your verse…
Like His heart on your sleeve.