Jack Pelham

Our son—
This wonder to us
With a mind of his own
That sees and hears the world
And reports back to us his own findings
In this sweet fellowship into which we have grown
In these nineteen years—

Not many ever fully surrender
To letting the truth be the truth.

No, the masses find such promise
In pretending parts of it
To be something other
Than what they are.

We want to know about ghosts,
But maybe not entirely,
Because maybe it’s somehow
More satisfying if we don’t
Find out for sure.

There’s a lot that needs doing in this world—and not enough doers doing it. But one thing that’s sorely in need is for someone to keep the encouragers encouraged, because if they stop doing what they do, it all gets far worse fast.

Please think of who you know that makes people better, and be sure to let them know they’re making a difference.

While this world does have its wicked
With their violence and schemes,
And we watch them pour their darkness
On a thousand righteous dreams,

What does God wish
You would learn today?

What dream might he have
For your betterment
That you could actually achieve?

And how might it bless you both
If you were to achieve it?

It’s the rare soul
Who will let someone else
Inside his heart
To rearrange the furniture—
And rarer still, the one
Who knows where it should go.

I helped him get his shackles off,
But as it turned out,
He put them back on—
Preferring the routines of slavery
To the uncertainties of self-determination.

I’m convinced that God wants us to improve ourselves. He has set our lives in this beautiful/ugly world, where we may acquire knowledge and skill of many kinds, and where we have daily opportunities to invest ourselves in good and in evil. I do not think he has put us here to squander our time, but to make something from it all, as good stewards of self.

He is sinister who trades in false hope,
And yet, the world beats a path to his door.
Just watch them.
They cannot get enough of his catnip.

I have seen them walk right around true hope—
The wisdom of the ages—
To get to the false.
They call evil good and good evil,
Intoxicated with the promise of ease,
And mindless that there’ll be Hell to pay later.

Woe to us!
So vulnerable still to this original scheme—
Barely able to manage our minds
And still unwilling to learn the lesson
Of this world.

We could learn to do better,
But there’s always the hope
That we don’t have to.

How blessed are those few
Who have dared to listen.