God Is Not A Heavenly Bellboy

 

 

God is not a heavenly bellboy

As some people believe,

Such as, whatever I ask of Him

I must surely receive.

 

He is not a hotel bellboy

To whom one gives the chores

Or present to Him a shopping list

Itemizing what one adores.

 

And while He gives the best service

We should not take Him for granted,

He certainly is not a magic wand

With which we become enchanted.

 

God is not a heavenly bellboy

In a hotel of our choice,

He is not in our employ

To be guided by our voice.

 

We sometimes forget to thank Him

And rush straight to our list

Of things we require from Him

Frequently adding on what we miss.

 

Our praise is often shallow

As though He’s just a convenience,

Not recognizing we need to start

With a heart of godly repentance

 

We treat to God like a bellboy

In the way we pray to Him

With our unending list of sundries,

Seldom repenting of our sin.

 

Prayer warriors are among the guilty

And prayer intercessors too

And they claim enormous power

Saying there’s nothing they can't do.

For God is their heavenly bellboy

That responds to their every test

And whatever they ask of Him,

He will always grant their request.

 

How deluded can Christians get

To treat to God this way

As though He simply exists

To be their modern day sure pay.

 

On the basis of our bellboy

We can demand, declare and decree,

For we determine what’s best for us

And God would just have to agree.

 

Fallacy of all fallacies…

I pray that we understand

That God operates only as He wills

And not in sync with our plan.

 

When this settles down on us

We would certainly know for sure

That God is not our heavenly bellboy

That stands at our hotel door.

 

 

Instead, he is the self-sufficient I AM

That is guided by no man,

It is far better to seek God’s will

And then make His will our plan.

 

Stewart Russell © March 2020

 

God Uses People

 

 

 

I have often heard

“I have no help but God”

But is that really true?

Think before you applaud.

 

“God came through for me”

But how did God do this?

In so many ways, they say,

And then supply a list.

 

“Were it not for God

To whom would I have turned?”

Think again, I advise,

There’s much you can learn.

 

“God sent me the money

To pay an important bill,

And to think of how He did it

Really gives me a thrill.

 

I hadn’t a clue concerning

How the money would come

But in God I put my trust

And Presto! It was done.”

 

 

 

But, did it fall from the sky

Like manna in Bible days?

Certainly not, my funny friend,

Is what you’d likely say.

 

God does not print money

He uses what is in print,

All the more reason, my friend

Why I am begging you to think.

 

“I could find help nowhere

So, as always, I turned to God,

He provided the help I needed:

It was surely not King Fraud.”

 

When people cannot help us

It’s God to whom we turn

But is this really the lesson

This poem wants us to learn?

 

Look again, I beg you,

And its lesson you will learn,

“God uses people!”

It’s people to whom God turns.

 

 

It’s always somebody He uses

To help us in our trouble,

Think back again and you’ll see

God uses people.

 

The one who gave the money,

Or the one who paid the bill,

The one who brought the meal

Or the one that vacancy filled.

 

A helping hand that was given

Or a piece of needed advice,

A timely word of soothing comfort

That in a difficult time sufficed.

 

A lift to the supermarket

And a ride back home again,

An hour or too spent in company

As you deal with severe pain.

 

That shoulder you cried upon

A cheery good morning greeting,

Yes! God uses people

Is certainly worth repeating.

 

So, whenever God responds,

It’s people that He uses,

In the many and varying ways

It is people God chooses.

 

Stewart Russell © July 23, 2021

 

The Old Village Church

 

 

I stopped at the old village church

The signs of old age were in evidence,

I walked in like I always used to

There were only ten in attendance.

 

I recall there used to be more

But then, it was the only church around,

I remember as I reflected

The preaching there was sound.

 

On Sundays they filled the church

It was a date most villagers kept,

But when the new church started up

It was there most regularly met.

 

They love that preacher’s charisma

“O, he is hot,” I heard them say,

“He doesn’t have to use the Bible

It is the modern way.”

 

They learn a lot about prosperity

And how a man can be rich

And with that kind of prospect

 Many villagers made the switch.

 

 

Now the village church is dying

There are only the aging few,

But they come faithfully every Sunday

And still preach the biblical view.

 

They are referred to as being dead

And too old fashion in their ways,

All that old time Bible stuff

Is not good enough for these days.

 

Like the church at Philadelphia

So too, this old village church,

The numbers may be small unlike others

But they were surely not in the lurch.

 

They were founded on the Rock

Though they appeared of little strength,

Satan in trying to destroy them

Had gone to great lengths.

 

The other church is like Laodicea:

That grew by leaps and bounds,

Yet they are poor, blind and naked

And no sound doctrine can be found.

 

 

As I sat in that old village church

And enjoyed the ministry of the word,

I could not help but contemplate

On those that were so absurd.

 

They left the genuine substance

And went chasing after the shadow,

Right there at that new church

There is nothing else but show.

 

I am not putting down big churches

Just what this one is offering,

And while some appear well off

Most of them are suffering.

 

Here is an open invitation

To return to the old village church

Where there is sound doctrine and ministry

That leaves no one in the lurch.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2019

 

Small Change

 

 

From run to ruin

From team “We” to team “I”,

It’s the agenda of the individual

And all must comply.

 

From the “we for the people”

To the people for us,

Is it any wonder

There is so much fuss?

 

With subtle switches

We have made big changes

From what God has mandated

To what man rearranges.

 

From manage to damage,

Note the wreckage we’ve caused

By simply advancing the “I”

And putting God on pause.

 

What a sad day for it was

When Eve fell for the “I”!

Adam unreluctantly followed

And now we all die.

 

From run to ruin

And from mange to damage,

Observe if you will

The resulting carnage.

 

The trend to destroy

In the belief we are fixing,

The subtle blend of truth and lie

In the cocktail we’re mixing.

 

Progress we call it

Though regress is the result,

We are rejecting godliness

And accepting the occult.

 

Just insert the “I”!

That’s not much of a change

But notice the result:

Both strange and deranged.

 

“Only collateral damage”

“Nothing to worry about”

Our lives will be so much better

When it’s all worked out.

 

It’s just a “D” for an “M”

How much change is that?

Manage has become damage

Can’t you see this fact?

Just a little insertion

Concerning what God said

And mankind was fast tracked

To the land of the dead.

 

“Hath God said?”

Note Satan never said He did

But it was enough

And Eve fell for his bid.

 

Just a small change

But the consequence was huge

Ever since Mother Eve

Was Satan’s first stooge.

 

Stewart Russell © October, 2021

 

A Call to Ministry

 

 

So often we say

We are call to do this or that

As opposed to ministry

Which is the fact.

 

One is called to write

Another is called to preach,

One is called to sing

I am called to teach.

 

The emphasis, therefore,

Is on what I do

As opposed to service

Or ministry in view.

 

Again, it is the “I”

Instead of the community,

No wonder it often breeds

Much disunity.

 

Ministry is what’s critical

And not what one does,

It’s not essentially what we do

But what’s done for Jesus.

 

We vaunt ourselves

And we beat on our chest,

“What I do is key!”

O what a mess!

 

It is a call to ministry,

Not what I do

Whether I am in the pulpit

Or siting in the pew.

 

“Amen!” is a ministry

An encouraging one at that

Especially when what is said

Is a biblical fact.

 

 

It’s a call to service

Using God-given resource

Which more often than not,

Determines our course.

 

Whether I sing

Or whether I preach

Is far less important

Than my outreach.

 

And whether I dance

Or whether I teach

Ministry is the key

In church or the street.

 

So, preachers, cool it

And you teachers too,

It is about ministry

And not about you.

 

It is not the show

That the singers put on

But a call to ministry

So, be warned!

 

Whatever it is we do

We must learn to do it well,

It is our call to ministry

To go and tell.

 

 

Tell of the love of God

And His Son He freely gave

To save you and me

From a Christ-less grave.

 

Tell of how he came

To die upon the cross

To restore to humanity

What was originally lost.

 

Do not be a block

In your God-given ministry,

Let it be Jesus

That your audience sees.

 

It’s a call to ministry,

I repeat,

Whether you’re in the church

Or on the street.

 

Stewart Russell © October 20, 2021

Transition and Transitioning

 

 

 

From death to life

From darkness to light,

From degradation to redemption

And from doing wrong to the pursuit of right.

 

From alienation to belonging

From a stranger to a son,

From a lost sheep to a restored lamb

And an earthly domain to a heavenly kingdom.

 

From crippling fear to active faith

From folly to wisdom,

From selfish desire to doing God’s will

From the devil’s slave to a royal crown.

 

From trespassing to surpassing

From futility to joy,

From wrong doing to righteousness

From Satan’s slave to the Master’s employ.

 

 

From incarceration to being freed

From captivity to deliverance,

From a pauper’s apparel to a priestly robe

And from a prideful boast to a sincere repentance.

 

From being lost to being found

From desperation to affection,

From roaming the desert to a heavenly home

From Satan’s abduction to the Father’s reception.

 

From a parched throat to living water

From leaden feet to a strident walk,

From doubt and distress to the Saviour’s caress

From a prattling tongue to a matching talk.

 

 

These are but a few of the changes

That characterize the transformed life,

A life that reflects the Holy Spirit

Though bombarded by earthly strife.

 

A constant and consistent transition

A replacement of the old with the new,

A lump of clay in the hands of the Master

That is pliable all the way through.

 

Then from mortality to immortality

And from corruption to incorruption,

When time shall change to eternity

I shall sing of God’s eternal salvation.

 

Stewart Russell © March 2020

 

 

Attempted Homicide

 

 

 

The people versus Idler

“Silence in my court!”

This after there was laughter,

“I’m not making sport.”

 

“Approach the bench!”

Ordered the magistrate,

The man approached quite timidly

Uneasy about his fate.

 

“What brings you here?”

He asked the frightened man,

“And it had better be good,”

He said with a wave of his hand.

 

“I was killing time…”

“You were what?” the judge interrupted,

“I was killing time…”

Mr. Idler haltingly repeated.

 

“Clearly you failed since we are here

But that will attract a fine.

$300 and you can go,

You won’t be so lucky next time.

 

Next time you may succeed

And we’ll be no more

And for you,

That will be prison for sure.

 

That’s attempted homicide

Since time’s still is alive

And for everybody’s sake in this court today

Do pray that time survive.”

 

Stewart Russell © October 21, 2021

 

 

It’s Like

 

 

What will they think of next?

That used to be creativity,

Today, however, in my view

It now refers to depravity.

 

It’s like we are digging a hole

To nowhere in particular

With no chance of getting out

In the foreseeable future.

 

It is like burying yourself

And really, really, enjoying it,

In fact, loving it so much

That it becomes your life mandate.

 

Like one drinking his vomit

While smacking his lips

And giving the impression

It’s an exciting trip.

 

It’s like down under is better

Than being at the top

And I don’t mean in Australia

But an under the earth spot. 

 

There was a time not long ago

When some things were frowned upon

Now they have become endeavors,

We are depraved and undone.

 

No doubt you would demand

That I should supply a list

But I am sure that with a little thought

You can do exactly this.

 

It’s like a topsy turvy world

Or like a child left on his own,

With the parent feeling accomplished

And smiles when he should groan.

 

It’s like not enough dirt,

I don’t mean cultivating land

But becoming the lowest of the low

As though that were the plan.

 

 

It’s like a competition to see

How ridiculous we can get

And if we are defeated at it

We express appreciative regret.

 

We talk about global warming

And about promoting things green,

But we are daily encouraging

A despicable garbage scene.

 

I do not the mean the garbage

That’s in front and behind

But the kind that we have allowed

To destroy our minds.

 

A Godless society

Is what we are becoming

And we feel particularly pleased

About the way we are living.

 

It’s like we have exchanged value

For wholesale worthlessness

And what was once worthless

Is now considered the best.

 

 

It’s like it’s better to be lost

Than to know where you are

And to have no moral compass

Is better by far.

 

It’s like then I can do

Whatever my warped mind desires

And take great offense

At who are otherwise inspired.

 

It’s like the church is praying

But it is getting worse

And even education institutions

Are perpetuating the curse.

 

It’s like this is real serious

But who really cares?

We are so terribly drugged

That we have become unaware.

 

It’s like I am talking

About a world that you don’t know,

No, it is just that you are insensitive

To this numbing horror show.

 

It’s the devil’s greatest heist

But it’s like we do not know

That Satan will never be our friend

But rather, our greatest foe.

 

Stewart Russell © October 2019