Wednesday, December 21, 2011


THINGSby John Wesley Brown 

Things upon the mantle, things on every shelf,
Things that others gave me, things I gave myself.
Things I’ve stored in boxes that don’t mean much anymore . . .
Old magazines and memories behind the attic door . . .
. . Things.

Things on hooks and hangers, things on ropes and rings,
Things I guard that blind me to the pettiness of things.
Am I like the rich young ruler, ruled by all I own?
If Jesus came and asked me, could I leave it all alone?

Oh Lord, I look to heaven beyond the veil of time,
To gain eternal insight that “nothing’s really mine,”
And to only ask for daily bread and all contentment brings,
To find freedom as your servant in the midst of all these things.

For discarded in the junkyard and rusted in the rain
Lie things that took the finest years of lifetimes to obtain.
And whistling through these tombstones, the hollow breezes sing
A song of dreams surrendered to the tyranny of things.

On Christmas morning my family is spending part of our Christmas money on gifts to help reach the lost.
It is a great way to show your child what really matters.

Peace in Jesus,

1 comment:

  1. We did it for the kid's teachers and bus driver this year. Next year it will be even more people!