Poetry
Or, The Biography of Every Believer Who Grows into Maturity
Said the seed unto the Farmer,
“I’m insignificant and small.”
Replied the Farmer to the seed,
“I see a fruit tree, strong and tall.”
The little seed fell in the ground.
“It’s dark – I’m all alone!”
“Don’t worry, little seed,
For a time you’ll call this home.”
The little seed grew frightened;
“I’m starting to decay!”
“The outer shell must decompose;
Real growth begins this way.”
Alarm then gripped the little seed;
“I’m not growing up, but down!”
“Your roots will soon establish you,
A great tree of renown.”
One day the little tree
Broke through the earth and saw the sun.
“At last!” he cried, “Most certainly
Maturity has come!”
That Fall the trees around him
Bore red fruit for all to see.
The little tree was troubled;
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Just then the passing Farmer said,
“No need to look so glum!
Just keep on growing, little tree,
Your time is yet to come.”
The winter winds blew off his leaves;
“Am I about to die?”
“Just rest awhile, little tree;
New life comes by-and-by.”
Year in and out the little tree
Grew tall and deeper down,
And then out stretched his branches far,
All barren, strong, and brown.
The Farmer came pruned him back.
“I’m made small! Don’t You care?!”
“I have great hope, my little tree,
Much fruit you soon shall bear.”
Almost in despair, the tree
All but let hope die out,
When one day chanced he looked around
And gave a happy shout.
He called out to the Farmer,
“I have something great to show!
My branches all have yielded fruit!”
The Farmer smiled. “I know.”
It was long before the branches
Of the apple tree did bear,
That the Farmer held the little seed
And saw a harvest there.
The harvest wagons toted in
A bumper crop that year;
Then cider, cobbler, jelly, pies,
Lade tables far and near.
The many deaths the seed died
Seemed in his eyes small and mean,
Yet through them, he touched others
He had never even seen.
So take heart, all God’s little seeds!
The Lord knows what you are!
And He will grow you up in time
To touch men near and far.
In the meantime, Farmer knows
Exactly what we need;
For death and life together
Bring forth fruit from little seeds.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
“Verily, verily I say unto you, Except a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”
‒‒ John 12:24
“So then death worketh in us, but life in you.”
‒‒ II Corinthians 4:12
“Bring the red heifer without spot… and ye shall give it to Eleazar the priest, that he may bring it forth outside the camp…”
‒‒ Numbers 19:2-3
I
A slap on the cheek.
I turn.
I feel the heat
Of indignation burn.
Barred in barren, lonely exile,
Living a long, forsaken while
— A tunnel, it seems —
Where no hope gleams.
No repair or amends
Is there
No friends
— Rejection truly rends.
“And one shall slay it before his face… And one shall burn the heifer in his sight; its skin, and its flesh, and its blood, with its dung, shall he burn…”
‒‒ Numbers 19:3, 5
II
Alone, forgotten, left for dead,
“Ichabod” written overhead.
Accepting ashes, of all else bereft,
Content in Christ — it’s all I have left.
Is it God’s hand
That strikes?
Or man’s?
Both seem alike.
“Gather up the ashes of the heifer, and lay them up outside the camp… for… the children of Israel… it is a purification for sin.”
‒‒ Numbers 19:9
III
A still, small voice.
I hear
This hope; a choice:
“The Sacrifice is near.
Reduced to nought
For others’ living;
To Him, no offense,
No loss; only giving.”
By life within my heart
I turn
To take this part:
To let the heifer burn.
‒‒ by Mallory Patrick
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”
‒‒ Matthew 11:29
A minister once said
that God lives close to the floor.
And having spent
a lot of time there recently,
I’m finding it to be true,
more and more.
An African woman once said
that she finds Jesus
at the end of the line.
And having been knocked back
quite a bit as of late,
I would say that this is true
— every time.
James, the brother of Jesus, once said
that if you confess your faults,
you will be healed.
And having spent a lot of time
confessing the last few weeks,
I have to tell you that this is a really good way
to see Jesus revealed.
The prodigal son once said,
“I am not worthy
to be called your son.”
And having been most decidedly
unworthy myself as of late,
I frequently see Father coming toward me
at a dead run.
Are you having a hard time finding Jesus?
Do you say you want to know the Lord?
Maybe you have really blown it recently (like
me),
Or perhaps you feel dry when you study the
Word.
Well, let me tell you where you can find Him.
I know, because I was just there.
He is right down by the floor –
or last in line –
or running down the road –
or sitting beside the puddle of tears
under my chair.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
I used to wonder at one time
While gazing at the church from within,
Why the Lord permitted sin
That darkened Jesus’ glorious shine.
I used to wonder, but now I see
That what You want is Christ in me.
I used to fret that God would raise
Some humble vessel up for use,
While passing by without excuse
This willing one, still in the grave.
I used to fret, but now I see
That what You want is Christ in me.
I used to grieve when love replaced
Me with another – O great pain!
For I am stripped, while others gain,
And that once held dear is now erased.
I used to grieve, but now I see
That what You want is Christ in me.
Christ – not to me, but to all those
Does my Lord view within His sight;
And through me living with all His might,
Others blessing, while I lose.
For I once was blind, but now I see
That what You want is not Christ in them,
or her or him;
What you want is Christ in me.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
“His visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men… Who hath believed our report? And to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?… and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him… He is despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief, and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him smitten of God, and afflicted.”
‒‒ Isaiah 52:14, 52:1-3
Have you gazed upon that marred, mauled Man
– Abhorrent visage none could recognize –
All bloodied, beaten, hung ‘tween earth and skies,
There burdens borne beyond what earth-might can?
Or is there placed upon your eyes a ban,
Rejecting Him whom mankind does despise;
Esteemed God-struck, the Lamb – O earthly guise! –
From whom His own disciples quickly ran?
For more than natural eye fails to perceive
This Lamb whom Israel yet holds unappealed;
Veiled hearts will quake, forsake, before believe,
And carnal mind eternity does shield
– Deprives His own of sight; His queries grieve,
“To whom shall be the arm of God revealed?”
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
“O my dove, who art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.”
‒‒ Song of Songs 2:14
There sat a pair of lovers, face to face,
Her glowing countenance upturned toward his;
Both heedless of the frantic, frenzied pace
Surrounding them, so perfect was their bliss.
Her face shone with contented happiness,
And of his heart did seem a mere reflection;
The out-poured love that swelled within his breast,
Perfected in reciprocal affection.
From this metaphoric scene, I take
That by Your heart my countenance does shine.
And to perfect Your love, Your Cross did make
Unhindered access, fellowship divine.
I’ll upward turn my gaze, then for Your sake;
It’s when I see Your face that You see mine.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
Obscurity
God’s bread-staff for maturity
but burgeoning man’s-ministry
a look-at-me-phylactery
is where the manger-babe should be
‒‒ God’s Son wrapped in obscurity
Limitation
express lane into New Creation
but donkey-nature brays “placation!”
and chafes the bit of low-seat’s station
while low-Lamb’s load laid my foundation
‒‒ God’s Son lived law’s limitation
Suffering
to fellowship with God-heart brings
but i like rodents scuttling
into type-and-shadowed wings
for fear of stagéd Cross-setting
‒‒ where God’s Son shines suffering
Whose quick-rays quite
kiss earth-face-frustration’s night
with Cross-view’s resurrection bright
such Word-sharp sword severs unto light
clay-eyes-born-blind receives her sight
‒‒ God’s Son’s Cross are quick-rays quite
Wresting free!
God’s clash-Cross crashed carnality
now yes-cry-peals rend flesh roundly
loosed life-springs flow from Source to Sea
i’ll suffer limit’s obscurity
‒‒ for God’s life-Son from self wrested free
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
meek Jesus
weak Jesus
silently hanging there
engulfed, overwhelmed, it seemed,
in the tumult of raucous flesh
a cacophony of religion and sin
reveling in its desecrated victory
over the Lamb
who
in apparent failure
at that moment
manifested the greatest display of God
to ever hit the planet
* * *
pharisees, romans, and disciples
(if they didn’t run away first)
onlookers watching
but not seeing
this is it, folks
could God have been any plainer?
the life-source, hiding place, and great lover
just hanging there
revealing the secret of his power
as if to say
here — and only here — I AM
would you have recognized him?
do you now?
do i?
the meek weak one
longs to display the Lamb through you
will you recognize him?
* * *
hurried masses going nowhere
adjusting their courses
to the obstacles…
(the feeble display
of Christ’s very self
in a vessel
— an eternal moment missed by all)
…in their paths
they pretend not to notice
as if they actually had a destination
the single sweet song of the Son
i sing
is lost
in the do your own thing polyphony
of meaningless variations
on the same tune
(fifteen thousandth verse)
nothing has changed since calvary
I weep but they’re Jesus’ tears
and in that moment
in the midst of humanity’s roaring tide
we fellowship in the Cross
Jesus and I
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
Why do blessings pass me by
And earthly promotions, too?
And why do tribulations hard
Remove all peace from view?
Why do the slights and stabs from others
Pierce my heart straight through?
“The answer is so simple, dear;
I want to be close to you.”
Why do friends and happiness
So quickly seem to flee?
And why do fears and worries
Assail so ruthlessly?
Why, Lord, are the smiles few
While tears do flow so free?
“The answer is here, within My heart;
I want you close to Me.”
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
Ps. 116:15
Heb. 12:2
Acts 7:57-60
Gen. 45:5
Ps. 16:10
Isa. 53:2
Mk. 10:21
Phil. 3:4-7
Phil. 2:17
II Cor. 8:12
I Jn. 3:16
I Sam. 16:7
Lk. 21:1-4
Matt. 4:19-20
Heb. 11:38
II Cor. 3:18
Phil. 3:10
Precious in God’s sight is the death of His Saints
Enduring the Cross, their mind never faints.
But what does He mean when the word “death” is used?
‒‒ An act so mistaken, a truth often abused.
Yet many are there who give life to this verse;
And by giving themselves, false impressions disperse.
Like zealous young Stephen, cut short of life’s breath,
Or John, loving long, put off physical death;
Even Joseph, restricted in bonds God-appointed,
In hell, uncorrupted, raised to rule, and anointed.
Can anyone say which life had more worth,
Anyone but the Lord know how fruit will come forth?
But is giving one’s life always a glorious thing,
Dramatic and lovely, to make the heart sing?
Is it always attractive, a bright shining light,
When a dear Saint lays down, going into the night?
Or can it be lived out unceremoniously,
Inglorious and weak, with no one to see?
Like the person who gives all his money away
In support of the gospel, does without everyday;
Or the one who refuses by talent to live,
Reduced down to service, to the church he might give.
We ought to show honor where honor is due;
So what about these? Did they give their lives, too?
And speaking of that, consider now this;
Let us go one step more ere this thought we dismiss:
Paul was poured out on the sacrifice of the brothers;
The honor due him was then offered to others.
The person intending to give his life away
Being prevented, receives credit anyway!
Do you think the Lord reveres such “deaths” as these?
I think He does; I think He is pleased,
If the one who is losing is dying by life,
If in motive submits to the altar and knife;
Not like a man, moved by outward displays,
God sees past the surface, to the heart and its ways.
The wealthy gave offerings in large quantity,
As if to say, “I’m sacrificing! Look at me!”
Then along comes a widow, her poverty despites
Casting in her whole living, gives an undramatic two mites.
Now, whose “death” do you think gained Jesus’ admiration?
The Lord gave that woman a standing ovation!
What of the disciple, who, heeding the call
For increasing the kingdom, followed Christ, forsook all,
To be cast aside later by “those who know best”,
To wander the earth without home, without rest;
What of his service? Before God, does it count?
Does wandering rejection to cross-dying amount?
So, which gave his life? Didn’t they all?
Only outcomes were different ‒‒ some were great, and some small.
But it’s the life that matters, not how it appears
To blinded earth-eyes and insensate deaf ears.
The Spirit of Christ is behind all these things:
The living, the dying, the love-offerings.
For those who think gaining is winning, how sad!
To mistake life eternal for something so bad,
As to overlook Jesus, to live for oneself,
And relegate Christ to a theological shelf
In carnal minds, when instead we might be
His body, outpouring His life endlessly!
Oh, Saint! Will you ponder the lives in this rhyme,
Who gave themselves freely, and lost for all time,
Their chance to acquire position and wealth,
Happiness, security, reputation, and health?
‒‒ Just threw it away, to die ingloriously
Because they saw something higher than a man on a tree.
They saw life eternal ‒‒ a Lamb on a throne;
And seeing, embraced Him, and made Him their home.
Conformed to His image, they gave their lives, too,
To the profit of all; Oh Saint! What will you do?
Knowing this death-life is a good place to start;
For the death of His saints is so near to God’s heart.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
“And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.”
‒‒ Genesis 11:4
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”
‒‒ John 12:24
Steel monuments pierce humanity’s night:
Far reaching aloft to scrape the sky;
Man’s sorry attempt by carnal might
To reach God’s dwelling-place on high.
Hidden in hearts, more powerful still,
Rule idols within their shrines stone-cold;
Devoid of life, root man’s proud will
In Babel, to manifest times untold.
A single seed slips furtively
Into its grave of fertile earth,
From below to grow to a massive tree,
Rendering rocks to dust by God’s new birth.
How many hearts receive such Seed
In death, and rise in jubilation
To life with God, from self-strength freed,
Having rent the mighty Babel’s foundations?
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ. And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation. And our hope of you is stedfast, knowing, that as ye are partakers of the sufferings, so shall ye be also of the consolation. For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life: But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead: Who delivered us from so great a death, and doth deliver: in whom we trust that he will yet deliver us.”
‒‒ II Corinthians 1:3-10
Father of mercies,
God of all comfort;
Sufferings of Christ
‒ Consolation abounds!
Salvation effectual
While trials enduring:
This view of the cross to His glory redounds!
Of life, I’m despairing,
For death, soul appointed;
Bereft of all resources,
All earthly might.
As Christ-Resurrection,
So God the dead raises:
Exceeds expectation! ‒ Joy breaks forth in light.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
Perhaps you cannot do much;
Your ministry skill is small.
Maybe your lame feet prevent you
From scaling that threatening wall.
Your weak frame restricts activity
Though your heart swells at Spirit’s call;
Quit now your fretting, cease now from strife;
Christ is your life, withal.
Injuries maim much more than one’s frame;
The damaged soul won’t work quite right.
Pushing through tears and ghostly fears,
Icy grip in confusion’s night.
You know He is true, and though so hard to do
Every step is gained with costly fight.
Lean into His heart! Father right from the start
Ensures Jesus, shining bright.
Limits and frailties are everyone’s lot;
For some, this is even more so.
For others, there is no distinction,
No talent, no great work to show.
No matter! Our Father is looking elsewhere,
His indwelling life did bestow.
So let Jesus live! He stands ready to give;
Life’s release liberates from below.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick
“But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
‒‒ I John 1:7-9
“Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. Be not wise in your own conceits.”
‒‒ Romans 12:16
“I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love.”
‒‒ Ephesians 4:1-2
“Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves.”
‒‒ Philippians 2:3
“Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God.”
‒‒ Philippians 2:6
From high-mind’s pride, God’s enemy,
From great pretensions my soul flood;
From grasping for equality,
Oh, wash me in the precious blood!
Wash me! Wash my sins away,
My thoughts and motives, actions too,
My self-exalting willful way,
Eclipsing Son in all I do.
May I be satisfied with Christ,
With humble Christ-mind God did give,
With daily pleasing Him, sufficed
With Christ in lowliness to live.
‒‒ By Mallory Patrick