Genuine Compassion

It is important to understand the true meaning of love, for without it we can be nothing for Him. I wrote this poem several years ago - so here's my personal observation of what genuine compassion should to be, and this is the type of love I desire to possess.

Genuine Compassion
reaches beyond self
into the lives of others,
feeling their hurts, their pains, their humility.

It weeps,
it smiles, it laughs, it cares,
its authenticity speaking
from the depths of the spirit.

It acts
not as a facade of hypocrisy,
soliciting service through pretense
to receive rewards.

Genuine compassion is
and will be in the heart of a true believer,
Devotion, steadfastness and virtue
will be its covering.

An Ant, I Ain't

Watch out! The Ants are coming! (Just found some!) With the weather changing, these little creatures will be evading our cabinets, countertops - and basically our homes. Oh, how they love to march inside, taking ownership of our space. I dread their appearance because it means getting out the aerosol can and giving them a Raid bath. Oophs, to those that are ecology-minded, I am so sorry but this is the one time I must use the “no-no” can and take charge.

Well, perhaps I should look at them in a different light. These little ones have never come close to extinction (been on Earth for more than 100 million years). All I can say is that whatever they’ve got going for them is successful. Could their longevity be due to their highly organized colonies (i.e., nests)? Each colony may consist of millions of “workers” or “soldiers” who work their entire life for the female “queen”. The workers devotion to the queen is unparalleled – toiling endlessly in unity to accomplish a common cause.

Makes one think, doesn't it? If we as humans had but a percentage of the ants’ devotion, resilience, and intensity - what could we accomplish? Looking closely at this little tiny touch of God’s creation gave me inspiration to write the following poem.

The ant is a lesson, working until day’s end,
in its relentless mission, not willing to bend.
Placing trust in a carefully planned scheme,
determination becoming its triumphant theme.

The ant never contemplates defeat as it toils,
or that its harvest may become the enemy’s spoils.
So be mindful that in the ant’s countless pursuits,
devotion and perseverance are agreeable recruits.

Well…An Ant, I Ain’t - but a devoted, steadfast Soldier for the King, I truly want to be.

My Altar

After posting the "praying" bunny yesterday, I started thinking about prayer lives. Many of us are victims of the whirlwind, being tossed to and fro with life. We have no choice. Exasperated, tired, watching ourselves go in one door and out the other at the same time is the order of the day. If we wait to use the prayer closet, we may be robbed of our daily devotion with Him.

Now, with retirement, I have more time for the luxury of praying in solitude, but before retiring from my job in San Francisco, I spent 8-to-10 hours a day at work, and approximately an hour commute to and an hour commute from work. Attending mid-week church service added an additional hour to and an hour from church to home. Plus there was dinner time and the normal daily chores (occasionally there was the adding of time for special events). I just didn't have the time (nor the strength) to give God what He truly deserved. My situation required me to reprogram my thinking as to places for My Altar.

Expanding prayer surroundings can allow one to experience the beauty of spontaneous prayer. We can pray almost anywhere and be effective. We can pray in our car while commuting to and from work, in our office/workstation, in a crowd, on an elevator, a bus, train or plane. We can pray while feeding or bathing a child, eating lunch, doing dishes, mopping floors, buying groceries, in the shower/tub, and the list goes on. The Lord never turns away a sincere prayer. He accepts our visits no matter where we are, or what we are doing. An Altar can be anywhere our heart cares to travel. Hopefully, I've appropriately expressed my feelings in this poem.

My Altar is not made of wood or of stone,
nor permanently anchored to stand all alone.
Nor was it designed as a ritual where I praises could sing,
but built as a foundation for supplications to bring.

My Altar is anywhere my heart cares to travel,
there to present my petitions and life's mysteries unravel.
No appointment is needed for a request to submit,
for I may be a prayer away for a wayward soul to acquit.

My Altar is truly the place dearest to my heart,
for it is where all my heavy burdens depart.
Upward intercessions soar for the Lord to capture,
Yes, I consider My Altar the true gauge of my stature.

Your Altar has no limits, and can bring victory to your weary soul. So today why not consider scouting out the land for special places of prayer? You will never be the same, believe me.