Taste of Wonder

Excerpts from Taste of Wonder

Across the Eastern Sky

I sat by the window in my bedroom looking out across a winter’s night sky. I wanted so dearly for Jesus to come back. My bedroom faces the east, and I remember how Christ described the day of His second coming. It will be swift, like a thief in the night. Suddenly, a whole poem began to flow from my thumbs almost faster than I could type it into my phone. A story of judgment day unfolded before me. It was swift, awkward, and abrupt. Few people were ready for it.

“Lukas, tell me a story 

Of your life back on earth,”

A small child called out to me

As she tore across heaven’s turf.

“A story again? Well, let’s think and see.

Ah yes, I remember, it was a night wintery.”

I sat there troubled 

By my problems piled high.

Years till then I’d waited,

And now there’s a flash ’cross the eastern sky,

A trumpet’s song, a clarion call

Across the world renowned.

To some it was life; to others death,

A beautiful, terrible sound.

The sky rolled back, and the earth retreated—

Heaven was opened wide.

The Son of man descended in bright, gleaming glory

With ten thousand angels at His side.

“Come home, my friends. This is the end, 

The start of a brand new day.

Through all your trials, all your persecutions, 

You’ve run the entire way.”

A million marched home tearful;

A billion passed me by.

I saw some were standing still, 

And they began to cry.

“Now you, my less-than-faithful,

Where is your excuse?

Do you still call for hot debate?

Do you still cry out for proof?

Where were you when I was wet,

Sick, lonely, and cold?

Where were you when I was an orphan young,

Or dying, very old?

How is your schedule? How is your self?

Have your ambitions brought you peace?

Do you still wish you looked away 

From the worst, and ill, and least?

Where are your riches? Where is your glory?

Did I not make them all?

Where are those on whose shoulders you stood

To make you look so tall?

They’re home with me, so you can see

I was all you’d ever need.

While you held them down, 

I held them up under the weight of all your greed.”

I saw now billions on the plains,

Plainly terrified.

For them, “religious fantasy”

Had finally just arrived.

He walked from man to woman, 

Eternity at His toes.

He questioned and He searched

In their hearts and in their souls.

A man in black from head to toe

With boldness more than mine

Reached up high like a schoolchild,

A question on his mind.

And then you, little one, ran and pulled 

On glorious Jesus’s robes.

With patience and humility, 

He bent and touched your nose.

You said, “Excuse me, Jesus, I saw a man.

Looking sad, he raised his hand.

My teacher taught me back in school

That every question deserves a stand.”

With a father’s smile, He picked you up

And called the man by name. 

The man didn’t move; the people around him

Withdrew quickly in their shame.

He said, “I’m sorry, Jesus. I’m not that strong.

My words will stammer and not flow,

But all along I wondered deep, 

‘How are we supposed to know?’

How can we be certain that you’re the truth? 

You lived so long ago.”

A storm brewed up, and fire flew 

From the heavens to the earth.

But not a soul moved;

We trembled all beneath the moment and its girth.

I could see a furnace fire

Burning in Jesus’s eyes.

The thunderstorm got loud enough

To drown out the people’s cries.

It died away and grew deathbed silent;

He still held you in His arms.

The man looked away, didn’t know what to say.

We could feel his sense of alarm.

“Come,” said God, with the peace of a breeze. 

“Come forward, and you will see

Those who bore the burden and cross 

Of my gospel testimony.”

One by one, there filed out people

Of each and every kind.

Short and tall, all countries, nations, 

All types that you could find.

Some women, some men, some children,

But they all shone with glory.

Jesus went down and hugged each one,

Inviting them to tell their story.

Time and again, shamed, beaten, mocked,

The martyrs retold their lives.

They stood against darkness at the ultimate cost 

To their loved ones, husbands, or wives.

The martyrs showed their scars and glory, 

And finally Jesus showed His:

The holes in His hands, the scars on His back, 

And where the Roman’s spear pierced His ribs.

“You see, child,” He turned back to the man,

“It’s not like they ever knew either.

Uncertainty plagued them the length of their days, 

But they never chose to feed her.

They had their questions and had their doubts, 

But you don’t need to ‘know’ to act.

Faith comes by hearing, and you heard a lot 

Of their faith and My covenant pact.

So these are the faithful, and now they’re my children, Who carried their crosses with grace.”

The man was deeply afflicted;

Paralyzing fear was written across his face.

Jesus stared at the tall man in black, 

But His subject just wouldn’t look back.

He stammered and trembled and looked out of place, Until finally his will did crack.

He fell to his knees and uneasily wept, 

Screams and sobs the same.

“Jesus, my Lord, why didn’t you help me

With my grief and all of my pain?” 

Jesus knelt down and looked at the man. 

“Was it enough to forsake my name?”

The billions of saved looked in on the scene.

It’s happened to you and me—

That harsh and rough prayer when a sinner admits

The journey takes him further than he can see.

“I just couldn’t do it. The weight was too much. 

I left, I ran, I worried.

I forsook your name because I was scared, 

And now you’ve come back in quite a hurry.

Jesus, I don’t get it, but I’m scared of what’s next. 

Is there a way you’d take me back?

I never got over leaving the path, 

And since then I’ve dressed in black.”

The man didn’t look up, but if he did he would see

A teary-eyed Jesus staring right back at he.

“Is there a way?” the sobbing man screamed, 

Broken and weak in his bones.

Jesus replied, “I am the way! Come home, my son, come home!”

The man keeled over and wept in the sand.

“My Lord and Savior, my God!”

An angel shrieked in joy, and all the crowd jumped.

“He is worthy of praise and laud!”

A chorus joined in, “Worthy is He!

The maker of all the world!

Worthy is He, the slayer of death, 

His glory forever unfurled!”

Jesus picked the man up and called to the faithless,

“Come, if you’re weary, to rest!”

A great crowd lined up with their heads hung low; 

They were at least a thousand abreast.

But the strange thing was, 

Not everyone was in line.

I heard more than one say, “He’s no Lord of mine.

We’re probably hallucinating; it’ll wear off in time.”

“So he receives the betrayer? 

He has a penchant for abuse.”

“I definitely think He has a couple of screws loose.”

“If God was really real, He’d make us believe.”

I cried, “And still you do not,

With all that you’ve seen?!”

“Well, stress and such factors 

Cause one’s brain to malfunction.

It’d be foolish to make a conclusion

Here at this junction.”

Then I heard my name called by that beautiful voice.

“Quickly!” I begged them. “You must make a choice!”

“Lukas!” I heard, and on His face I saw sadness.

“You cannot help them.

They’ve chosen their madness.”

“But you—” I whimpered.

“I can’t make them do it. 

If they don’t grab my hand, 

I can’t help them through it.”

We both turned in sadness, His arm on my shoulder.

The weight of lost souls hung on me like a boulder.

“A choice must be made between Me and the world.

This was the plan before time was uncurled.”

I nodded in agreement and faced my new family,

Saints dressed in white as far as the eye could see.

The pain and weight of life on earth was now lost,

But the scars on His hands remind me of the cost.

Now, between laughs, I see that light in His eye.

It brings me back to that wintery night

And the flash ’cross the eastern sky.

Head Games

Oh Lord on high,

I miss your presence nigh.

My thoughts slip away from me like a thief, sly.

Your spirit inside me,

Your myst’ries confide in me.

Is this your bidding, ’fore I stand beside thee?

I’ll pour out your wisdom

And know more of your kingdom,

Salt all of my words and make my arguments winsome.

Your truth and your grace

Have a singular face

With whose mercy and love I cannot keep pace.

Short work of my sin

I know you will win.

You had my course set before time did begin.

All of my thoughts,

The works I have wrought—

I hope to your face a smile they have brought.

As you continue

From heavenly venue,

From down here on earth my prayers I’ll send you.

Don’t forget me

When you come to see

Who’s done your bidding and has believed thee.

Don’t forget me

When you come to see

Who’s done your bidding and has become free.

From hell that entangles

And dark sin that mangles,

Who’s obeyed your spirit and bowed as he wrangles

Your spirit kinetic,

So powerful, energetic.

Finish your love’s circuit; in me please connect it.

He who leads without word

In my heart He has stirred

And brought me in line with the rest of your herd.

The good shepherd Jesus

Continually frees us.

We’re vapors in the wind, but He acts like He needs us.

Where did it come from?

You’re perfect and then some.

You take note of me, a dog eating breadcrumbs.

Oh author of life,

The church as your wife

Cut through this dark world like a flaming red knife.

With sword from your mouth

You ride from heaven, south.

You sweep through the nations, your enemies to rout.

Though my motives are clashin’,

You quell all my passion

And dress me in robes after Your heavenly fashion.

Take pain away,

Oh dear Lord, I pray.

Make it happen quick on your glorious day.

Time flows like sand,

The grains through my hand.

One thousand years in a day, I can’t understand.

I watch my face age

On this earthly stage;

As I rail against passions, at my flesh do I rage.

It costs me my soul,

But You’ll make me whole.

You’ll restore the years that the locusts stole.

Enthrone me in heaven;

Remove all my leaven.

Let me rest up like You on sabbath day seven.

My course you have set.

I’m willing to bet

The end will be glorious, but it’s not over yet.

All of my time

Wrapped up in rhyme,

As I escape sin, heavenly mountains I climb.