Path of Darkness

However wholesome or serene our lives look or feel, there is a monster lurking just outside our doors. In fact, it's lurking within many of our doors. I am aware of a darkness pressing in upon us from multiple fronts. That darkness is pornography. It begins with the soft porn of sensual advertising and the sexual innuendoes in even the "nicest" of television shows. Slowly but surely, however, the collective moral conscience of society is being worn down. The ratings on movies and television have eased up over the years. The lyrics of popular songs whisper their way into our unsuspecting hearts and minds. Like the hands of a clock or the rising of the tide, the darkness of pornography slowly slips into the undefended corners of our lives. We must be ever vigilant of this enemy because it is everywhere around us, offering the worst of counterfeits to entice us away from the good and beautiful things so lovingly crafted by our creator. We can never let our guard down for even the softest of rains or the smallest of waves can erode a mountain over time. So it is with pornography. Gird your hearts and minds, watch over your children. That goes without saying. We must, as adults, also watch over each other and hold one another accountable. Pornography is a known carcinogen which leads, with the utmost certainty, to a cancer of the soul. We become what we look at and think. In the book of Philippians the Apostle Paul wrote, "Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything is worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things." That is the secret of a life of righteousness and pornography is the antithesis thereof. Let us choose carefully what we will allow in to our lives and hearts. Those are the things which will shape our character ... and our character shall shape our destiny.

Path of Darkness
There is a darkness descending about us
Encroaching a little more each day
Into our houses and hearts and offices
In a subtle, covert way
It begins with advertising
And songs we hear on the radio
It slithers into our children's minds
And our television shows
At first, it's just an odd comment or two
Perhaps and off-color joke
We giggle and smile knowingly
Unaware of the mirrors and smoke
Unaware of the darkness gathering
At the fringe of our conscious thought
The darkness of pornography
Slowly gaining ground, like it or not
Every time we switch on our computers
Or go to the movies it's there
A little soft porn, to wear down our resolve
It pursues us most everywhere
Slowly eroding our values
Until one click of remotes or a mouse
Unbars the gate of ethical thresholds
And ushers the worst kind of porn in our house
Sure, one peek won't do any damage
He's curious, what's the harm
So we tiptoe to the abyss and peer in
And no one sounds the alarm
No harm, no foul, nobody knows
Just one little innocent look
So said the trout, the tuna, the teenager
Unaware of the shiny barbed hook
And that is how it ever begins
But the path that it leads to is dark
It corrupts our values, degrades our women
It is a devouring shark
It kills and maims indiscriminately
It robs us of love and our youth
Teaching us to accept a counterfeit
Until we no longer long for the truth
Things haven't changed since long ago
When the serpent offered the apple to Eve
The fruit may have changed but stakes are the same
If we're willing to be deceived
Friends, I cannot warn us sternly enough
We are at war, I implore you to see
With a darkness which hungers for hearts, minds and souls
And the battle ground is pornography
By Frank Carpenter ©

As If It Were the Last

If you are anything like me, you probably keep putting some important things in your life off. We all have little health issues, relationships that need mending, wisdom we meant to impart to our children, issues we planned to resolve in the faith area of our lives. Oh, there’s plenty of time left, we’ll get around to those unresolved items “someday.” Ah, yes, someday. The proverbial procrastination until tomorrow. I’ll call and apologize tomorrow. I’ll start my diet tomorrow. I’ll pray or read the bible tomorrow. I’ll pay my taxes tomorrow. Feel free to insert your own tomorrow “to do list” into the equation. This is more than just a casual walk in the poetic park for me, it is the story of my ever-loving life. Defer, delay, deny ... until it screams or catches on fire. Let us, however, briefly consider that least considered of actuarial scenarios which each of us tries desperately to keep pushed beyond the fringe of our conscious thought. What if there was no tomorrow? What if I didn’t get a second chance in my marriage? What if today was the only legacy I’d have to leave my children? What if I was eternally stuck with the salvation and obedience choices I have previously made? Then, what if I had only one day to fix any or all of those things? What would you do? That is the subject of today’s poem. If you are anything like me, and I’m guessing you are, life is filled with potential regrets. So I take the liberty of asking the ultimate “what if”question. If this was the last day of your life, would you be spending it just the way you are right now? Me either. Consequently, I urge us all to reconsider the story of our lives and identify the parts of it which may need to be rewritten. Each of us is guaranteed only one second chance, and that is the one we grab hold of right now. Beyond this moment, this day, there is no sure thing. Perhaps we should live each day as if it were the last. Then, no matter what happens, we can be absolutely sure that we’ll have no regrets, nor will any be inherited by those we leave behind. Have a blessed day ... and make it count.

As If It Were the Last
What if you had only one day to live?
Just twenty-four hours to spend
To say or accomplish what matters most
Before your life reached an end
Who would you spend it with, where would you go
What would you do or see
What words of wisdom would you bestow
Knowing they were your legacy
How would you spend your money, your time
The last ounce of strength you possessed
Would you reach for the stars or wallow in pity
In light of an imminent eternal rest
Would you eat, drink and be merry
Or fall on your knees just to pray
To prepare for meeting your Maker
On that brink of your reckoning day
Whatever has raced through your mind just now
While these few simple stanzas you’ve read
About what you thought you needed to do
Before you were suddenly dead
I would urge you to make a list of them
And start living that way, even now
For we never know when our last day might come
There are no guaranties anyhow
We never know when the Master may call
When all of our second chances have passed
Then we are stuck with the life we have lived
So why not live each day as the last
Nobody gets advance notice like this
But the cement of your life isn’t set
There is still time to change it before your last day
So live a life you will never regret
By Frank Carpenter ©

Lest Ye Be Judged

We all tend to be rather opinionated, myself included. In fact, if you’ve been reading this site, it’s obvious that I may well be the prince of opinionation. It is with a humble heart, therefore, that I urge us to consider together the subject of judging others. It seems to be human nature to judge. Try this experiment: Ask anyone you know about someone else and listen to their answer. You will almost certainly get an earful of judgements, even if they are minor. We are usually so quick to point the finger at others, yet upon closer examination we may be guilty of the same things, or worse. In a world of self-righteous finger pointers, we have need of men and women of integrity who are willing to examine their own lives more closely. Little effort or thought is required to speak harshly of another. However, the greater challenge is holding ourselves to a higher standard for the purpose of setting an example. Far better, sometimes, to hold our tongues and let our actions speak for themselves. Then, when we absolutely must speak, our words will carry all the more weight. Here, I defer to the expert who wrote the instruction manual on human living. In the book of Matthew, Jesus said the following: “Do not judge so that you will not be judged. For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, `Let me take the speck out of your eye,' and behold, the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.” (Matthew 7:1-5) I think that about covers it. Let us, therefore, live well and refrain from speaking too hastily about others ... lest we be judged by our own standards.

Lest Ye Be Judged
Judge not, lest ye be judged,
What others may say or do
For as you apply your standard to them
So it shall be measured to you
Where I find fault with another man
So fault shall be found with me
Each word I utter in judgement raises
My own responsibility
Judge not, lest ye be judged,
Show mercy as you would be shown
We dare not sit in the judgement seat
Which is reserved for God alone
Heap not the burning coals of wrath
Upon your own foolish head
By hastily judging another man
On what he has done or said
For all have fallen short of the mark
And failed by some degree
So what right have I to judge a man
Who is no more a sinner than me
Each man will have to answer to God
When he meets the Lord face to face
So rather than judge another man
Show grace as you would know grace
By Frank Carpenter ©

Quiet Waters

It’s been a little heavy the last few days so I thought we’d just get back to nature for a moment. As I mentioned before the weekend, I was going camping in the mountains. One of the things I love about the mountains is the opportunity to be near mountain streams. I’m kind of a water person anyhow, but the sound of running water, either rushing or gentle, truly warms my heart and quite literally washes the depths of my weary soul. Water is, at least to me, God’s background music. That about sums it up. The writer of “A River Runs Through It” closed the story with the words, “I have always been haunted by waters,” and that is just about how I feel as well. I hope you are able to discover the cleansing waters you seek in your own life.

Quiet Waters
No matter what my worries are
Or how large my problems seem
I feel them melt away beside
A gentle mountain stream
Where the quiet waters calm my heart
And wash away the sand
Which has built up in the eddies
Of my soul, more than I planned
The music of the mountain stream
Unclogs my weary ears
Massaging tired muscles
As it dissolves my doubts and fears
It consoles me in my sorrow
And it washes pure my thought
Cascading through the depths of me
In a cool, refreshing draught
When I am overwhelmed by noise and strife
And the anxious world of men
Quiet waters will restore my soul
And cleanse my heart again
By Frank Carpenter ©

Steadfast

Let's face it, life can certainly get overwhelming from time to time. There are stresses at work and home, with friends and family, traffic, money ... you name it. Then, when the really big things come, like family deaths, major illnesses or marital troubles, we get to feeling like life is almost too much to bear. Those are the times when we so desperately need something strong to cling to. Money doesn't work. Friends and family will eventually let you down. We grasp for all manor of straws and, like straws, they tend to snap under the pressure. In the end, only God is a sure source of help and comfort. He is always there. He has power over His creation and all that dwells therein. He has proven the depth of His compassion in the sacrifice of His Son. He is the only anchor strong enough to hold through every storm. You may be in the middle of those days of darkness even now. If so, friend, I implore you not to save God for your "last resort." In the bible, Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." He's there, tossing out the life ring to you even now, all you have to do is reach out and grab it. If you are going through those tough times right now, if you feel as though you have nowhere left to turn, start with a prayer or go to church and ask for help. If you think it would help, feel free to email me and we'll figure out where to begin together. There are issues in life that just seem too large or frightening to overcome alone. You don't have to face them alone. Reach out and grab that life ring floating next to you. Then hold on tight and know that God is steadfast enough to carry you through the storm.

Steadfast
When I am beset by the storms of life
When the tempest against me blows
When the waves of darkness wash over me
And I struggle within their throes
When I strive to keep myself on course
Through the blackest watches of night
And the light of dawn seems far away
With no sign of shelter in sight
Where shall I turn when life is so
When frustration or doubt or pain
Become a burden that crushes my heart
And my confidence starts to wane
Then only the Lord is steadfast enough
To set our anchors upon
God alone gives the strength a man can trust
For the will to keep carrying on
And the light of His love is a beacon
Which pierces the depths of the night
Bringing hope to the brokenhearted
And the courage to fight the good fight
By Frank Carpenter ©

Divided We Fall

Despite all of our progress and education, despite all of our rhetoric and the fact that our nation was founded upon the principle that "all men were created equal," folks continue to divide themselves up by race, creed, religion and a host of other categories. At one time, many decades ago, this seemed to be mostly a black/white problem. While remnants of those issues clearly remain, the melting pot of American demographics has created a plethora of other groups, even subcultures, withing our great melting pot. That is a wonderful thing, and one of the foundations of our open society. However, in recent decades, especially since the sixties, we have seen ourselves begin to divide up again. More and more focus has been placed on cultural, religious and origin heritage that it has begun to erode our national heritage. Even in an open society like ours, there is a danger in drawing any cultural lines to boldly. When we begin to call ourselves something besides American we chip away at the pride and unity which goes with that broader title. We divide up upon racial line, party lines, ethnic lines, religious lines and so on ... becoming so inclusive as to actually be exclusive, while we lobby and vote along those same lines. Let us, as Americans, remember that the nature of being a melting pot is the melting part, the concept that we melting into one people. What makes the nation great is the sharing of a common heritage, that of being American. We're still drawing lines, trying to keep others in or out or away, or whatever. Yet, those lines need to be dotted lines because, in the end, we are all in this together.

Divided We Fall
Brick upon brick, we build our walls
With blocks of resentment and pride
We raise up lofty barricades
Then, drawing lines, we step to one side
Proclaiming we, the elite, shall stand
Over here, where no one else may
We demand that everyone take his place
Or there will be hell to pay
Through the ages we've added more bricks to the wall
And a host of new rules to the game
Which have clouded the issues and stirred the pot
But the outcome is always the same
It is always the group that draws the lines
And imposes them on the rest
Which seems to have the most to gain
And which seems to become obsessed
With making sure that only a few
May have the privileges they have known
For if all men were equal they'd have to share
The spoils they claim as their own
While the rest of humanity cowers outside
Degraded and left in the cold
By a system which robs them of their rights
Crushing even the wise and the bold
Yet, the greatest injustice about the system
Each man has been shackled within
Is the shallowness of the parameters
Which doom him before he can begin
Neither race, nor creed, nor country
Are the sum of any being
They are merely the cover of a book
Which may contain treasures unseen
Any system that judges a man
By his temporal exterior
Has done a disservice to all of mankind
By promoting dissension and fear
For only a system which looks each man
In the eye without judging him first
Is worthy of judging a man at all
Without predestining him to be cursed
So the next time you find a brick in your hand
And you're tempted to work on a wall
Find a bridge that needs repair
And do a service to us all
By Frank Carpenter ©

Off to the Mountains

I already posted an entry earlier today, but if you are a devoted reader I just wanted to toss you one more nugget before I slip off to the mountains for a few days of camping. I probably won’t have another offering until early Monday morning, but in the mean time I’ll be in a beautiful and inspirational place which might yield some fresh and interesting poetry. To tide you over, I submit the poem below which captures what happens to my heart when I get out into the wilderness. I believe we were created with an inherent connection to nature and that is why we respond to it in the way we do. Remember, there’s already a new poem from earlier today if you scroll down to it. Also, if you’re new or interested in more, be sure to check out my monthly archives over in the left column of this site. Happy trails!

Cedar Trail
In an ancient stand of cedar
To the music of a creek
Setting sun streams through the trees
In a game of hide and seek
As the gentle hush of evening
Descends to cast its spell
While solemn spires keeping watch
Seem to echo, “all is well”
Mossy paths meander through
Ferns and sapling cedar trees
Leading nowhere in particular
As careless as you please
The forest whispers to my heart
Timeless words which none can hear
Revealing to me secrets
Few men know and less hold dear
And I discover in their wisdom
A peace I never would have known
Lest I turned aside to wander
On the cedar trail alone
By Frank Carpenter ©

Song of Freedom

We see in the news nearly every day. Since we are currently at war, American service men and women are dying in the line of duty. Regardless how you feel about the current conflict, regardless of your political party, brave young people are losing their lives and doing so because it’s their job to serve our country. It is not my intention to here debate any pro or antiwar rhetoric, but to remind us that anyone who gives their life or is injured in the line of duty is an real American hero. We must remember that at all times. Throughout the past two centuries, Americans have worn our uniform proudly and been willing to pay the ultimate price in the service of this great nation. Each of those soldiers has done so, either directly or indirectly, in defense of our freedoms and those of other nations and we must never forget their sacrifices. The very right we have to speak freely about the war, or anything else, has been paid for and protected by the blood of those who fought on behalf of our country. For whatever its faults may be, we have by far the best system of government which has ever existed in the world. We must also remember that and we must teach it to our children. Patriotism is something we learned from our parents and that we need to pass on to our own children. It is our national legacy, our cultural obligation. In the mean time, during the course of virtually decade, we are and ever shall be involved in military conflicts. Not because we are imperialistic warmongers, for we have rarely if ever annexed any territory by force, but because we believe so strongly in our ideals that we feel compelled to defend them even beyond our own borders. When our brave young men and women go into battle they are fighting for something which transcends even the defense of our sacred and sovereign borders. They fight for the God-given right of men to be free, wherever and whoever they are. When our soldiers fight their battle cries are the very song of freedom. Let us remember them, and let us also lift up their song and teach it to our own children, for their freedoms can and will only be insured by the devotion and sacrifice of our armed forces. That must be our gift to our children and our grandchildren. That is our legacy. Let freedom ring!

Song of Freedom
Still ringing are the battle cries
Of freedom from the past
Sung out by brave young men who spilled
Their blood and breathed their last
Still waving is the flag
They proudly served and held aloft
Yet, we must be ever wary
Lest our resolve grows dim and soft
Our children need to know the legacy
Of freedom which is theirs
As the gauntlet passes on to them
For they are freedom's heirs
Sons and daughters of a liberty
Which was born of trial and strife
Paid for dearly by the countless men
Who gave both limb and life
We must keep the fire burning
May we never let it die
So our children's children's children
Know the sound of freedom's cry
It's not enough to just be born here
We have to guard our liberty
And pass it on so generations
In the future will be free
By Frank Carpenter ©

Within the Walls

I thought we might discuss something a little different today so a few words about history. I wrote today’s poem while leaning against a crumbling, and obviously ancient, wall in France. As I sat there I got to thinking about all the things that might have happened within or around that wall over the centuries. Today we use the cute expression, “if these walls could talk.” Indeed, if only they could. I happen to have a great affinity for all things old. Trees, buildings, walls, whatever. To me, they provide a connection to another time. Just as the ring of a tree, when studied, provides a great deal of information not only about the tree, but also the time period in which each growth ring was formed. I always have that feeling about the elements of nature, and the things man has wrought make me feel as though I can better understand those who made them. It’s a forensic approach to history. Yet, for me, it leads to an emotional connection, as if I am sharing something with people long past who might, if I am patient, reveal some of their forgotten secrets to me. Of course it’s wide open to conjecture, but as a writer I feel that a part of my gift is the intuitive ability to experience something of the heart of my predecessors by coming in contact with what they have left behind. That is the beautiful thing about history. It takes us back, helps us consider why and how others lived. This helps us to rethink our own identity and, perhaps, avoid some of the mistakes made by those who came before. It can be very enlightening to stand at the brink of history and gaze into its murky depths. The images aren’t always clearly discerned, but for me it is a comfort just to know that they are there. That is the reason, for instance, that family heirlooms are so important to people. Knowing something about “who we were” can shed a great deal of light on “who we are.” So I encourage us to preserve, to cherish, all that is old. I supposed that would include people as well, as I have touched upon previously. We have a responsibility to the future to protect the past, for the twain are inextricably entwined within our present.

Within the Walls
Where the stucco falls away
and betrays the stones of old
It reveals a treasure, precious more
than silver or of gold
For the workmanship of ancestors
contains their and sweat and tears
The heart of all our heritage
which beats throughout the years
Each rough-hewn block which
stands the test of time, a monument
That speaks for those who placed it there
it is their testament
The foundation of the lives we live
was laid by such as these
Supporting all that we’ve become
like the roots of mighty trees
Each nail and timber still in place
remains with courage and with pride
Instilled by calloused hands that lived
and loved and worked and died
When I lean against a tired wall
and listen carefully
It can tell the tale of this land
like the rings within a tree
It betrays the bitter anguish
that all things old have borne
Reveals the hate and prejudice
cracked with worry, care and scorn
But it also tells the joy it knew
when it was young and strong
The love it sheltered through the storms
and echoed notes of mirthful song
It tells of truth and chivalry
when once they were revered
Rings with laughter of the children
who, within, were born and reared
A tired wall of weathered stone
may be all that we can see
Yet it grows tired merely from
the weight of bearing history
Parched by centuries beneath the sun
and decades of neglect
Perhaps it sags forlornly
due to shame and disrespect
We must nurture, we must cherish
what our ancestors have wrought
For the wisdom which remains therein
is great ... and dearly bought
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Hands of Love

It's the same old thing. I go to church on Sunday. I write a check and drop it in the offering box. I'm done. For the average person, that may well be the extent of Christian service. The "one stop shopping" variation on guilt-free living. If we're supposed to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might," (Deuteronomy 6:5) I'm pretty darn sure that an hour on Sunday morning and a check just don't cut it. No question that we're supposed to give money to the church, for that is our tithe. However, God is looking for something more. Giving means more than just our treasure, it also means our time and talents. Likewise, service means more than being an usher once a month, it's about getting out into the real world and loving it on God's behalf. We are, at least functionally, God's hands and feet and lips. That means we must roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty in love and service to one another and the world. No, we don't all have to go to Africa. Yet, we might each take a deep breath and perhaps march a few blocks outside of our comfort zone. Love, in it's purest form, must cost something. That is, by the way, exactly what God did for us. He didn't just sent an angel down to say, "Hey, I love you guys." No, He rolled up His sleeves, became a man and loved us face to face. Then He spilled His precious blood on our behalf, as a payment for our personal and collective sins. That is love. That is our example. OK team, now let's get out there and show the world what real love looks like.

The Hands of Love
God loves passion, true enough
But He wants more than money from me
He desires compassion and action
On the front lines of ministry
It's easy enough to mail a check
And that is a part of His plan
But God calls us to roll up our sleeves
To step in with both feet and hands
For unless we feel it, unless we act
Unless our love reaches out
And touches folks in a tangible way
We give our Lord reason to doubt
Our commitment and our intentions
For money pays for ministry
But His love spreads from heart to heart
To each person individually
For God, compassion is action
And love means sacrifice
Just as He sent His son to us
Who, in love, paid the ultimate price
Listen, can you hear Him calling?
God speaks to each of us personally
And that is how we are called to serve
For love is spelled T. I. M. E.
By Frank Carpenter ©

The Road to Damascus

We are all headed somewhere. We may be serving God and heading in the direction He desires for us, we may be wandering aimlessly, or we may be off on a journey of our own making. When the apostle Paul met Jesus out on the road to Damascus he had big plans. He was truly on a mission. Unfortunately, it was the wrong mission and God set about redirecting his life. God has such great plans for us, but some of us live lives that literally dare Him to intervene. Which way are you heading right now? What is your mission, your purpose? Are you serving God, searching for Him or running from Him? We are all at different places on different roads, but each of us is either marching towards God or away from Him. Between here and Damascus, there lies a broad stretch of empty desert. Make sure you are on the right road. You certainly wouldn't want to get lost out there.

The Road to Damascus
It was on the road to Damascus
that Saul, of Tarsus, traveled that day
With letters of introduction
the zealous young Pharisee made his way
Recalling how, back in Jerusalem
he had done his best to subdue
The blasphemous men of that Nazarene sect
yet still there was much to do
At the synagogue in Damascus
Saul planned to do just the same
To stone or imprison the wretched men
who were calling on Jesus' name
They had abandoned the law and the prophets
turning from their father Abraham
Mocking their God and His covenant
the blood of atonement and the ram
With these things in mind he hastened on
for he had far to travel still
And Saul was eager yet to accomplish
what he deemed to be his God's will
But somewhere on the road to Damascus
the Lord God called his name
And appeared before the frightened Saul
whose life would never be the same
Saul timidly asked, "Who are you, Lord?"
unsure what the answer would bring
The Lord answered, "I am Jesus ...
whom you have been persecuting."
That was the defining moment
when the Pharisee ceased to be Saul
Devoting the rest of his life to Christ
as God's mighty apostle Paul
What transpired upon that road?
What other words were exchanged?
God only knows what else was said
but Paul was forever changed
And few men have served their Lord so well
precious few have suffered so much
Paul's voice echos across the centuries
with God's power and gentle touch
But it began on the road to Damascus
where Paul met the Lord face to face
Where he heard the very voice of God
knowing both God's wrath and embrace
Are you on your own road to Damascus
traveling towards or away from your King
And if you met Him along that road
what might the encounter might bring
As I gaze off into the future
down the road stretching out before me
My destination grows hard to distinguish
among all the destinations I see
Am I on the road to Damascus
headed where God desires I go
Or on one of the countless other roads
and how can a man truly know
I must consider that the kingdom
of God is not in a physical place
I should be striving to be in God's presence
to enter His fellowship and His grace
All other destinations
in this world, which beckon to me
However promising they appear
in the end are but vanity
So I must reconsider carefully
what road I am on today
But I must also travel with faith that God
may yet meet me along the way
By Frank Carpenter ©

Poet's Update

Howdy, readers. The posting has obviously been a little slow the last few days. Sorry about that, but I'll have a fresh one for you tomorrow morning. In the mean time, check out a couple of recent upgrades. There's now a counter so we can track visitors. It just started counting the end of last week, but still they're adding up. Also, a recent upgrade has allowed me to add comments. Beginning with this last weekend, if you scroll to the bottom of the entry you'll see a place to click on "comments." You can add your own comments there or read the comments of others. Give it try- this is your chance to participate. In the mean time I'll get my pen back into the ink and see you tomorrow morning. Thanks for tuning in. Frank

Wasteland

In a world where almost everyone complains about being too busy, while those same people long to improve the quality of their lives, a strange phenomena occurs. We have time to watch television. We don't seem to get enough sleep. Many people read so little that they could be considered functionally illiterate. We are desperate for ways to spend meaningful time with our children, while concerned about how they'll turn out. Yet, we have time to watch television. We would like to get more involved at church. We hardly know our neighbor's names. We want to make a difference in this hurting world. We fervently desire to improve our marriages, not to mention our other relationships. Still, we have time to watch television. T.V. has become a staple of our relaxation time, our educational time, our family time, our quiet time, our "I just need to unwind" time. Isn't there something wrong with that? I know folks who watch so many "reality" shows that they have actually begun to accept those shows as reality. But if we carefully consider how much time and emotional investment we have in television, we soon discover that we have very little to show for it. Perhaps the best metaphor is that of drinking sodas. We're thirsty, so we drink a soda. It's cold, it tastes great. Unfortunately, as any doctor or serious athlete will tell you, the more sod pop you drink the more dehydrated you actually become. Television is much the same. It tastes great going down, but leaves us emotionally and intellectually dehydrated. Take a reality test: take one minute and make a list of the five most important things in your life, or five personal goals you would like to accomplish. Then put a checkmark next to each one that watching T.V. moves you even one step closer to. Take a look around your life and identify all the things that you always mean to get around to ... those are all better choices than televison. Enough said. Have a great day, and make it count.

Wasteland
In my living room, a monster lurks
which threatens you and me
And I haven't strength to turn it off
that monster is T.V.
It fills my precious hours with naught
and charms my senses so
I hardly even realize
where all the evenings go
It baby sits the children
when I need them occupied
While assuring me it educates
but in my heart I know it lied
When I have a moment
to myself to relax or think or pray
I seem to turn the T.V. on
and the time is washed away
By a flood of sound and color
and a world of fantasy
Which leaves me numb and empty
but still wanting more T.V.
I can sit and flip the channels
until the early morning hours
Even though I don't enjoy it
I am helpless in its powers
While in the next room stacks of books
are piled by my bed
I choose the mindless entertainer
and the classics go unread
I have a beautiful guitar
a pool, an exercising bike
A host of interests, friends and hobbies
that I cherish and I like
I have a home in need of maintenance
and a dusty Bible too
How can I squeeze in television
when there's so much I want to do
I complain until I'm breathless
how I'm busy, tired and stressed
Then I sink back on the couch again
a hypocrite, obsessed
What message do I send my children
as they learn to deal with life
Are my priorities in order
with my time, my God, my wife
Are Vanna, Bart and Gilligan
worthy of my precious hours
Or are they just the bait for
something larger which devours
Honor, goodness and compassion
leisure, patience, quality
Have I ever seen a survey
recommending more T.V.
No, it certainly is otherwise
and let there be no mistake
That this medium's proponents
are paid endorsers, on the take
Who would have me think it harmless
to watch a million people die
To import crime and infidelity
on purpose, right before my eyes
To have my children taught by actors
how life is and ought to be
So in the end, they can't discern
real life from fantasy
The time has come not to cut back
an hour or two a day
The time has come to pull the plug
and put remote controls away
I hear the world is a better place
because of our technology
But I know my life is emptier
when I fill it with T.V.
By Frank Carpenter ©

Testing the Waters

We go about our lives from day, putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward. However, the obstacles we encounter along the way often prevent us from traveling in a straight line, much like the trees in a forest. Those little detours we take can, over time, begin to confound our navigation. So it is that when we pause to take our bearings, we often discover that our course was slightly off and we've ended up in a different place that we expected, or we're not the people we thought we would be. Those can be frustrating moments. Yet, no matter how far we may have deviated from our intended course, our lives are never set in stone. Wherever we are, whoever we are, we always have the opportunity to take new bearings and set off in the right direction. The catch is that we have to stop and look around once in a while to confirm who and where we are. Sometimes a wrong turn can actually lead to something better, but when it doesn't we need only take a "right" turn towards the direction we desire. Some people live their whole lives without reconsidering these things. The wonderful thing about life, though, is that each day brings an endless series of second chances. Take the time to reevaluate things once in a while and pray for the courage to change your course if it will help you to become the person you know you must be. Even the slightest change in direction can often make a world of difference.

Testing the Waters
Sometimes we need to take a step back
From the daily routine we live in
So we can review our purpose and goals
Without life getting under our skin
We make so many choices throughout each day
That a week or a month or a year
Can lead us to places we hadn't intended
And far from the things we hold dear
So often our hearts can get dragged along
When they should have held fast to the helms
Yet, our senses are dulled by the here and now
And the way that it overwhelms
Then we wake up one morning and find
We are people we never intended to be
With commitments which bind us to our course
And we can't find a way to break free
So we need to pull over and cling to the edge
Every once in a while, it would seem
To test the currents and make sure that we
Still desire to be in the main stream
If we don't, we are liable to be swept away
From the purpose that burned in our hearts
Which we may have chosen or been chosen for
Without the courage to make a fresh start
But it's never too late, never too late
To resuscitate purpose and dreams
If they are important enough to be saved
From the depths of the world and its schemes
For there is nothing more tragic than wasting a life
On mere comfort and vanity
While it can still rise up and count for
The people and the things which we truly believe
Indeed, a life without passion or purpose or fire
Is one that the world can forget
But a life which counts for something worthwhile
Is one still worthy of living yet
By Frank Carpenter ©

Sharing Your Burdens

I have previously written about being good, wise, sensitive and strong. However, today, I wish to briefly discuss being weak. Sometimes life seems to be going great, but there are those of us who, at this very moment, may be going through some tremendous challenges. We might have health issues, financial problems, struggles with our marriages or children. It's not uncommon to keep the details of our personal struggles to ourselves. After all, we've been taught to be strong, to overcome, to succeed. However, the larger and often inevitable problems in life can easily become overwhelming. Nonetheless, we are often loath to drag other people into our burdens. We're embarrassed, we're proud, we don't wish to impose on those we care about ... and certainly not on strangers. But there are people around us who would gladly help if only they knew, if only we would ask them. Family and friends, fellow parishioners and plain old good Samaritans. They're out there, they may be all around us. And, truth be told, we might feel a whole lot better if we were just willing to share that burden with another person. Chances are, that those close to us would like to help anyhow, and often they feel better just having something to do that makes them feel like they've been able to contribute. Sometimes even those around us feel helpless because they see us suffering and aren't sure how to help. We do them a disservice when we shut them out and choose the path of the martyr. It's part of God's plan that help usually comes from other people. Even if you've been praying some kind of miracle, you might be surprised to discover that it may come through the folks around you. We all have burdens to bear, some larger and more dreadful than others, but burdens nonetheless. When you feel as if you're at the end of your rope, when the storm clouds begin to gather, please remember that you are never alone. If you share your burden with others, it may become much more bearable ... and that can make all the difference.

Sharing the Burden
When the weight of the world is bearing down
And it seems that you're all alone
When the news, and decisions, near at hand
Are turning your heart to stone
When the burden upon your shoulders threatens
To bend you until you break
And you find yourself wondering how much more
Of these trials you're able to take
Remember that there are folks who care
Who are striving to understand
People who want the best for you
Who are ready to lend a hand
Share your burden with those who care
Who are praying and rooting for you
If you let them assist with the burden you bear
You will find they can help you through
However dark the tunnel may seem
However long the road
It will grow shorter with friends along
But you must let them help carry the load
By Frank Carpenter ©

Living Our Lessons

No matter how frequent or lofty our speeches to them may be, our children learn from our examples. They are keen observers and everything they see in our lives becomes a lesson. They watch how and what we eat, how we drive, how we treat other people, how we respond under pressure or when we are upset. They pick up the subtle innuendos in our humor and language. They know how we treat animals and older people and other children. They spend their entire lives studying us and becoming like us ... vowing to do otherwise. Consequently, each moment is a “teachable moment” because every situation we encounter requires a different response. When they are young we can skip pages in a picture book or slip a quarter under their pillows from the Tooth Fairy. However, before long, we don’t fool them at all. I daresay we fool ourselves much longer than we continue to fool them. It behooves us, therefore, to glean the most from each opportunity which presents itself, especially since the cement of their individual characters begins to harden as they grow older. And, in the end, they are our only legacy which really matters so look for the lessons in life and make them count. Rest assured, the kids are learning even when we don’t intend to be teaching. Today’s poem is a true story about how we went to a lot of trouble on behalf of a humble bird. Too much trouble, perhaps, but there are lots of injured animals in the world and many of them are people. We just never know how our lessons may get applied. Teach always, and never be afraid to learn as well.

Broken Wings
We found an injured hawk last night
Out back, down by the creek
With a broken leg and wing, at least
She was tired and scared and weak
We caught her in the laundry hamper
And cared for her that night
A bird of prey, now broken
Dethroned, and robbed of flight
We called the game preserve at 3 Forks
And found a lady there
Who rehabilitates such birds
And gives them proper care
With a little love and luck, one day
We hope the hawk might fly
To soar, once more, upon the breeze
As master of the sky
If not, at least my kids will learn
We did the best we could
To care for what God sends our way
As every person should
For the greatest lessons we can teach
Sometimes are simple things
Like simple lessons of compassion
Mending broken hearts and wings
By Frank Carpenter ©

Tracks

No matter what we say, no matter how we portray ourselves to others, time always tells the true tale of a man’s or woman’s life. When we, or others, look back over the life we have lead, the footprints we have left behind will reveal much about our lives. I’ve heard it said that hindsight is always 20/20 and there is great wisdom in that statement. We may fool others, we may even fool ourselves, but those who look upon our tracks afterward will see clearly where our paths have actually lead. And, without a doubt, God always knows where we’ve been and what we have done. Armed with that knowledge, perhaps we would be wise to reconsider the course of our lives and a regular basis and endeavor to choose trails that will leave the legacy we would also choose to leave in our wakes. All of us have made our share of poor choices in the past, but every day offers us a fresh opportunity to chart a new course ... and the chance to leave a new and better trail behind us.

Tracks
I was walking in the desert
with no living thing in sight
Yet, across the sand were countless tracks
left by creatures in the night
I was struck by the diversity
of the tiny prints I found
From every creature who had recently
crossed that patch of lonely ground
And even with my knowledge
which was limited at best
I could tell much about the animals
with but an educated guess
I could make out snakes and lizards
rabbits, bugs and mice and birds
Guess their speed and their direction
without a book or spoken word
All these things were clearly evident
not hard to see or understand
Like tiny signatures each creature
left upon the empty desert sand
And it comes to mind that each
of us has left a trail too
Surely in the snow or desert
sand or early morning dew
But, more importantly, our tracks
are left upon the life we’ve led
By the things we have accomplished
we have created or we’ve said
Some will leave their tracks in ink
or paint, or notes upon a page
Some will leave impressions made
by acts of kindness or of rage
Some will build and some will plant
throughout their journey here
Leaving tracks on countless strangers
and the people they hold dear
However lightly we may step
upon the sands we cross each day
Our tracks will surely tell the tale
long after we have passed that way
What story will my own tracks tell
when others come upon
My foot prints in the sand of life
once I have traveled on?
Will the direction which they indicate
the pace, the gait, the girth
Point to a life of purpose
one of merit and of worth?
Will they indicate that I’d not
passed this way, somehow, in vain?
That I had left a wake of kindness
rather than a trail of pain
The tracks I want the world to find
are ones that served my fellow man
Tracks that honor what I cherished most
and obeyed my Master’s plan
So I shall choose my steps more carefully
for now I better understand
The kind of tracks I want to leave ...
where once I scurried across the sand
By Frank Carpenter ©

I Will Yield

It’s really all about control. Why can’t we get along together? Why do we have trouble in our marriages, with our children, at our jobs? Why don’t we just follow Jesus and let him be the Lord of our lives? There are so many things that stand in the way: pride, selfishness, a lack of faith. In the end, however, it usually boils to control. We just can’t let go of life, just can’t trust the big things to someone else ... even God, the creator of the universe. Yet, life could be so much better if we were willing to relinquish a little more authority to Him who is so worthy of it. In fact, life can never reach its full potential so long as we continue to clutch it too tightly. God clearly has a plan for us, and usually He is the only one who knows that plan. When we shut Him out and carry on with our own plans, it always winds up as a compromise. The Lord is looking for men and women who are willing to trust Him with their lives. If we will simply make Him Lord and assume the role of servants, He can do amazing things with us. But first, we must yield to His authority. Once we do so, we open the door a lifetime of potential, perhaps even an eternity of potential. The most difficult thing is simply letting go because it often takes more strength, more courage and more faith to yield. Just let it go, and see what God can do. You won’t be disappointed.

I Will Yield
(A Servant's Hymn)
Not my strength
Not my might
Not my power
Or my rights
I concede, at last, I do
I will yield, Lord, unto You
I will yield, oh Lord
I will yield to Thee
I will yield, oh Lord
On a bended knee
I will yield, oh Lord
To Your will for me
I will yield, oh Lord
And Your servant be
By Frank Carpenter ©

Lighthouse

In this world of darkness our hope, as believers, is that we can somehow help to shed a little light and point the way towards God. Especially as a sailor, I have always appreciated the metaphor of a lighthouse. There is something special about a beacon which shines out across stormy or foggy seas and offers hope to those who may be lost, warning travelers of dangers near at hand and helping to guide them to safety. That is exactly what we are to be in this foggy, storm-tossed world. To that end, it’s my hope that this web site, and my writings, have served as a lighthouse to you. It would be a great encouragement if you’d let me know I’m reaching you and what your response is, especially if I haven’t spoken to you already. You can click on the email link to the left or simply reach me at frank@4-speed.com. May we all be lighthouses in the lives of others. Shine your light today.

Lighthouse
Lord, may I be Your lighthouse
May my life, Your beacon be
That I might shine the light of hope
Across the storm tossed sea
To those in need of comfort
In their hour of distress
And turn them from the rocky shore
To the harbors of Your rest
By Frank Carpenter ©

In the Gray

We live in a world with an increasing climate of moral relativity. Society wants to rationalize and humanize and neutralize any truth that holds itself up as absolute. Our rights and wrongs have become luke warm maybes while we have elevated the concept of tolerance to such a point that it has become our most coveted principle. Thus, almost anything is acceptable if there is someone to argue that it corresponds to their belief or value system. In such a world, it's no wonder that everyone drives over the speed limit. It's no wonder that people cheat, from elementary students to executives of the nation's largest corporations. So it's no wonder that an entire generation doesn't care, and doesn't feel obligated to any consistent standard of obedience. Somewhere between the black and white of our traditional Judeo-Christian values, we have a growing sea of gray where truth and ethics have been watered down until they are essentially impotent. However, even though we may disregard traditional values, the absolute truths of right and wrong still exist. They were written upon our hearts, poured into creation itself, long before the Ten Commandments were inscribed upon the tablets of stone. Even if we ignore the lines of morality, they are still exist. We can white wash them. We can attempt to sweep them under the rug. We can even pass laws declaring elements of "The Law" to be invalid or fallacious. Yet truth, real truth, cannot be voted out, even by a popular majority. God always trumps ethical relativism. Color within the lines, drive within the lines, live withing the lines. Even if we erase the lines, we still know where they should be ... and so does God.

In The Gray
Men of God, we must be careful
In the choices made each day
That they will honor and not haunt us
We dare not dabble in the gray
There is black and white and wrong and right
But somewhere in between
Falls the no man's land where we must guess
At lines that are unseen
And herein lies the challenge
We must face throughout each day
For in the end what makes a man
Is how he fares within the gray
When the path is clear and weather fine
The choices seem so too
But life is often not so plain
Nor are we ever through
We must analyze our options
Never giving caution rest
So as to discern what may be good
From what may be the best
For if we let our guard down
We make choices we regret
And the options which seem gray to us
Can be the greatest threat
Sometimes we fudge to make a profit
So sure they'll look the other way
And since no one ever will find out
What matter if we stray
Everybody bends the rules a bit
So all seems well and fine
But we forget that, even in the gray
God can see the line
By Frank Carpenter ©

My Strength and My Protector

Sometimes it seems like we are wandering through the desert. We go through periods in our lives when we are beleaguered by tribulations at every turn and it can be tempting to just give up. However, our God is clearly a friend to the broken hearted and His strength is sufficient to carry us through our own times of weakness. When I am going through those times in my life I love to open up the psalms, where there are always words of strength and encouragement to be found. Almost anywhere you can turn in that book, the words of David leap off the page to guide our troubled hearts back towards God. Today's poem, or rather today's psalm, was actually written at something of an oasis out in the desert. It was a place of shade and rest tucked away in a sea of desolation. When our lives feel like a desert, God can be an oasis and a refuge to our weary hearts. He truly is our strength and our protector so come into His presence and let Him be your oasis as well.

My Strength and My Protector
A Psalm From the Desert
Blessed be the name of the Lord
the God of heaven and earth
oh, Lord, you are a refuge
to those who are in distress
Your comfort is the shade
of a mighty tree
beneath the desert sun
Your words of strength
refresh my soul
as a cool well spring
in a barren land
when I was fatigued
when I was thirsty
when I could travel no more
You led me to a place of rest
You are my comfort
and my protection
when I was lost, You guided me
when I was pursued by my enemies
You became as
a stronghold about me
You are my shield
and my deliverer
You heard my cry
in the wilderness
You heeded my call
Your mighty hand drew me
out of my distress
and into the gates of Your presence
blessed be the name
of the Lord most high
By Frank Carpenter ©

Be Still and Know

Like so many ants or honey bees, we spend our lives rushing back and forth, always trying to get just one more thing done. Yet, beyond it, there always lies another task to begin or finish. It never ends, nor shall it. We live under so much pressure to balance work and home and kids, community and social obligations, not to mention exercise, spiritual growth or even hobbies. There is just too much to do. Even in our Christian lives the cadence seems to be the same. We’ve got a checklist of things to accomplish and obligations to fulfill. Sometimes we feel as if God were some great cosmic camp director with a megaphone, constantly urging us on towards the next activity or program. However, when life begins to turn into a tread mill we can miss out on some of the most important parts of it. This is especially true in area of faith. Somehow, we seem to have gotten the message that we’ve have to accomplish a certain number of things for God. If we attend enough meetings, volunteer for enough committees, do enough stuff, that will make God happy ... and justify us. Yet, while God expects great things from us, He doesn’t necessarily demand a life of busy work which may be to the exclusion of everything else. Even people in full time ministry can get caught up in the Christian rat race to the point that they can lose track of their purpose, or even God. I believe it was the great theologian, Joanne Worley, who once said, “Even if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat.” Our God is a God who speaks in a still, small voice and to hear that voice we often must slow down and quiet our lives. He asks much of us, but He is also jealous of our time and commitment. He wants us to be with Him even more than He needs us to work for Him. I am reminded of Psalm 46, where in the midst of a discourse on war and God’s power, the writer inserts the phrase, “Be still, and know that I am God.” In the midst of life, we are also encouraged to “be still.” God may cure us from great illnesses. He may lead us through great trials and triumphs and battles. But He meets us in the quiet places of our lives. It is there that He listens to our prayers and whispers the answers back to our hearts. Only when we turn down the volume and slow down the pace may His voice be heard. There is so much to do, but don’t fall into the trap of merely doing for the sake thereof. Take time to be still and know that He is God.

Be Still and Know
God does not command us to hurry
To rush or to over-commit
He makes it clear there are times for action
Yet, there are times to merely sit
It is easy to fire up and charge
Into battle when battle is near
But God also honors the quiet man
Who will kneel before Him in fear
For the world belongs to the gallant ones
Who are strong and able to command
But heaven is saved for the humble men
Who know God’s voice and His gentle hand
“Be still and know that I am God”
These are the Lord’s own words
Yet, even for those who are serving Him
Far too often they go unheard
God only speaks to the quiet man
Not the one who is on the go
The one who will find Him is he who will pause
To simply be still and know
By Frank Carpenter ©

Honeysuckle Morning

As I was out walking Saturday morning along the estuary near our home, I began a perfect day with a pleasant assault upon my senses. Sometimes we feel that we have to go on vacation or flee to some distance place to discover a little peace and beauty. However, I was reminded this weekend that one may rediscover the wonders of creation right in his or her own back yard. Things as simple as the sweet aroma spring flowers or a dew soaked spider web can be enough to inspire one who approaches them with an open heart. There is unexplainable beauty to be found in every obscure little corner around us. If you want to see the face of God, if you want to hear His voice, begin by merely stepping out of doors and looking around. The mountains, the oceans and stars fill us with wonder, but the smaller wonders of creation are ever to be found near at hand. Take a morning or evening walk and allow the tiny waves of beauty wash over your soul. There is a solace to found in everything around us. We have only to open our eyee, to incline our ears, to offer our hearts. Give it a try. You won't have to look far.

Honeysuckle Morning
As I hike along the bluff top
The veil of morning mist
Finally lifts, at last revealing
A silver world the dew has kissed
From below, the estuary
Raises up a steady song
As the migratory birds awake
In all their boisterous throng
And all along the bluff top
Where I am wandering this day
The blooming honeysuckle greets me
In it's own special way
Flooding all my world with
It's fragrance, rich and sweet
It dissipates my troubles
To make a scene surreal complete
Of all the things that I could choose
To begin a brand new day
To awake my senses to creation
I would surely have to say
Nothing stirs me quite so deeply
In this life I'm trudging through
As a honeysuckle morning
With a quilt of silver dew
By Frank Carpenter ©