Faith, Poetry

You may think I am delusional, to believe God cares about every detail

But if he knows the number of hairs on my head, then I know that he’s my author and creator

If he writes my name on the palm of his hand, then I know that I am visible to him

If he knitted me together in my mother’s womb, then not one strand of my DNA is a mystery to him

If he’s held my life in his heart, before it even started, then I am assured it matters to him

If he sent his son to die on a cross so that I could be near to him, then I know my presence delights him

If he raised Jesus up from the grave, I am confident that I will be raised with him

If he sent his Holy Spirit in his son’s place, then I am promised his everlasting presence

So you may think I’m delusional, but my heart has been altered by too many sweet encounters

Despite the pain of this life, I am born of hope, washed in the mindset of eternity to see just a spec of how utterly vast and incomprehensible his love is for me

Not just for me and not just for those who call him father, even though we have the mind blowing privilege to walk with our Papa

For every human soul, of every religion and creed is loved with an almighty love and so I cannot stay silent

Whether you know it or not

You were born to know the creator of star dust, of science, of seasons, of harvests, of music, of beauty, of secrets and stillness

You were born to receive the love of our father expressed in the life of a servant we call saviour, Jesus Christ

You were born with a singular purpose, to love and be loved by God, who wills all goodness to pour into you through his relationship

You are his favourite creation, you and billions of others…

If you don’t believe me, stop and ask him

You never know, you might come face to face with Jesus

You might just hear a whisper and an unexpected nudge to look heavenward

The Never Ending Universe


Swathes of time between us, pulling
space stretching, our world escaping
through the seams we’re creating
stitching snapping under the weight of
constant ticking, hands eternally chasing
the moment, the universe is counting
as the earth is looking down the barrel
shooting stars, endlessly showering
the skies, the dark heavy clouds

Smoke on the horizon, the bells are chiming
in the twitching minds, consumed with the signs
the weather hides, in the open
every eye shall see the details, the downfall
chasing loudly the foxes out their holes
yelping as the flames find their thundering souls

Skittish politicians placate science with fiction
tales of steady tides that always change
the population, just caught in a bubble
floating along the line that connects
the beginning and the end
scholars frantically searching, until steadily
the revolutions will stutter and cease, no more noise
just silence in the never ending universe