My Mirror Image

 

Today I looked in the mirror

And I saw an old man

And unlike the distant past

There was nothing grand.

 

Maybe, except of course,

The conviction of my age

And this was a little disconcerting

At my senile stage.

 

I shuddered to think

Of days so long ago

When very little was beyond me

And I was on the go.

 

Back then I could run

And I could hop and skip

But now, for the present reality,

All that was clipped.

Braggadocio was gone:

One of my names long past

And trying to look like back then

Was an impossible task.

 

Lines were setting in,

Not of the youthful kind

For these had long passed away

With the passage of time.

 

But definitive lines

That arrive with old age

And with such lines the memory

Of a long-passed stage.

 

It was my mirror image

That I dare not deny

When it said to me, “You are old,”

And it wasn’t a lie.

 

The one thing, though,

My mirror could not show

Were the years of experiences

I had come to know.

 

My mirror-image

Is the reality that I see

But even at this present stage

There is more I can be.

 

For one, I can share

How I managed my life

With the help of Almighty God

In the midst of strife.

 

 

The many times I fell

But never declined to rise

Just like the proverbial vessel

On the swelling tide.

 

I could tell of the highs

And chronicle the lows

When I could adapt very fast

Though now slow.

 

Mirror image changes,

The physical one, I mean

But one still remains oneself

Whatever the scene.

 

Don’t be dragged down

By the image you see

But when the physical declines

See what more you can be.

 

Be a benefactor then

Rather than a beneficiary

And spare someone the suffering

You were forced to see.

 

Stewart Russell © September 18, 2024

 

A Costly Word

 

 

It is a costly word,

Can you guess?

Your first try has gone

It is not ‘yes’. 

 

Good try though,

Though not correct,

Yes, can be very costly

In some respects.

 

If you said ‘no’,

It’s your second try,

It’s another good guess

But must be denied.

 

Just one more try

Is all you will get,

The word I have in mind

Speaks of regret.

 

No, it is not ‘sin’

Though sin is costly,

Three strikes, you are out!

Now it’s up to me.

 

It is in the Bible

More than 1500 times,

1595 times to be exact

In the KJV kind.

 

 

It can be a warning

Or a reproach,

That is, before a behaviour

Or after we encroach.

 

 

First seen in the Bible

At Genesis 4:7,

Last cited at Revelation 22:19;

Re the Word written.

 

It can be a condition

Or a check to find out,

It is a good way to think

When in doubt.

 

It is counting the cost

Before taking a leap,

Or before full exposure

Taking a peep.

 

It is having remorse

And a wish to go back

While lamenting what’s done

That is now a fact.

 

 

Judas must have said it

One dozen times

And Jesus urged a woman

To bear it in mind.

 

A costly word indeed

And a little word too,

You’d better think it before

Is a critical clue.

 

When it comes after

It is with great regret,

Just a tiny two-letter word

But demands respect.

 

It occurs in marriage

And at the workplace,

Ignored before a behaviour,

It can bring disgrace.

 

 

And if at this time

You still have not got it,

You are either a moron

Or a dimwit.

 

Sooner or later

It will confront you,

I trust it will be line of sight

And not a rear view.

 

Stewart Russell © February 3, 2024

 

Prophetic or Pathetic?

 

 

So many prophets

Not to mention apostles

And their influence is alarmingly great

Among all peoples.

 

Not only in our country

But also, abroad

And all of them are indicating

That they have been called.

 

Called to this office

And called to that

And the gullible gobbles it up

As unadulterated fact.

 

Even when pathetic

And prophecies go adrift,

The biblically unaware will argue

They still have the gift.

 

Gifts are irrevocable,

God won’t take them back

And so, on this Romans 11 promise,

These prophets speak fact.

 

They may err sometimes

Since it’s human to err

But don’t call them false prophets

For such cannot be fair.

 

There are prophets many

Claiming to be true,

Some give prophesies annually

And some, out of the blue.

 

And when such prophesies

Constantly fail to come true

Their adherents still support them

In whatever they do.

 

 

Prophetic or pathetic?

I will leave you to judge,

I know that the unseeing gullible

Are not likely to budge.

 

For, testing the spirits,

Does not occur to them

And a foundation built on sand

Is a colossal problem.

 

One’s prophetic mark

Should be the Holy Bible

And anything contrary to this

Is damnable.

 

Deem it as pathetic

All prophesies that fail

And hold fast to God’s Holy Word

Lest the adversary assail.

 

Its God breathe truths

Are for our instruction

And the Holy Spirit compass within

Will give us wise direction.

 

Regard it as prophetic

And not as pathetic,

For there is no need to vet it

As in today’s prophet.

 

Stewart Russell © October 13, 2024

 

Paradox of Freedom

 

 

To do as we please

Is the freedom sought after,

Which is living a carefree life

Full of fun and laughter.

 

This is not the freedom

That we see in God’s Word

But there, we see a freedom

Hitherto untold.

 

A paradoxical freedom

That goes beyond self

And that seeks out a niche role

To build communal health.

 

Since none exists alone

But in a community,

Communal health is critical

To both you and me.

 

 

Freedom does not come

By dollars and sense,

Instead, real freedom was bought

By a sacrifice immense.

 

 

The sacrifice of one

Who willingly gave up

His ownership in heaven’s glory

For a bitter cup.

 

To die a death

That he did not deserve

Even after his declared innocence,

Was before this unheard.

 

I find no fault in him

Said the Roman judge

But those he came to set free

Would not budge.

 

Crucify him, they cried,

Over and over again

And our freedom cost Jesus

Incredible pain.

 

His blood flowed for all,

Not for himself

And thus, freedom was purchased,

And community health.

 

The Christian community

Wherever they be,

Once born again, they all have

Eternal liberty.

 

 

Slaves, but free,

Servants of Jesus Christ

Who willingly bought freedom

With his sacrifice.

 

Consequently, a new nature

God has given to us

Meaning those whose freedom

Is in Christ Jesus.

 

It is not an expectation

To do as we please

Or even to experience in life

Nothing but ease.

 

 

 

But a freedom to cope

With whatever may come,

A freedom that is only possible

In God’s incarnate Son.

 

A slave to something

Or someone we will be,

Why not to the one who created

Both you and me?

 

Stewart Russell © February 19, 2025

 

Missing the Point

 

 

What is the price of apathy

Or closing of the eyes to reality:

An induced restriction of visibility

To explain away what we see?

 

A sixty percent participation

In General Election 2018

With the BLP taking all 30 seats:

The first of two scenes.

 

A repeat of the performance

In General Election 2022

With the BLP taking all 30 seats

In the midst of much ado.

 

A forty-five percent turnout

Of the eligible vote

Thus, the question must be asked,

Are we taking note?

 

 

In the midst of celebration

There was no time to note

The whopping fifteen percent drop

In those eligible to vote.

 

What were the reasons

For this record low turnout?

COVID-19 could have been one

Surely, without doubt.

 

That election was called

To acquire a fresh mandate,

Twenty-nine seats were not enough

After one escaped.

 

The DLP lost some ground

But not as much as the BLP

Suggesting it was more than COVID-19;

Perhaps, some apathy.

 

A people increasingly fed-up

With the much political posturing

And no serious attempts being made

At delivering.

 

Fast forward to the present!

May this year, 2025

And that the apparent apathy continues

Should be no surprise.

 

 

Wednesday’s by-election

Could only muster 38 percent,

By the 2022 General Election standard

This is not even decent.

 

A growing disenchantment

Is particularly apparent

And a message to both political parties

Is being sent.

 

It’s a message of protest

By the largest political party:

The electorate who refused to participate

On account of their apathy.

 

Two reasons for this apathy

I will dare to highlight,

You may agree or disagree with me;

That is your right.

 

There are some who believe

They cannot be touched,

They feel safe in their ivory towers

And they have so much.

 

 

 

It can go either way,

It does not matter to them

For they have more than sufficient

To take care of any problem.

 

Then there are the electorate

Who have often switched

But regardless of whom they voted for

There was no fix.

 

Promises never delivered

Led to their apathy

And they withdrew their support

For either party.

 

 

 

We are missing the point

If we still cannot see

That the large majority of voters

Favours neither party.

 

 

 

 

Neither can stir the numbers

Now steep in their apathy

Even though one party has turned

To jump-up and revelry.

 

They have curried the favour

Of many of the youth

But the low turnout in St James North

Says apathy is the proof.

 

It is a “couldn’t care less”

Or “nothing will change”,

And this speaks to a political system

That is undoubtedly deranged.

 

Of more than 8500 electorate

Thirty-two hundred turn out

And the so-called overwhelming win

Causes the BLP to shout.

 

There is nothing exciting

When only 38 percent turns up,

In our good old Barbadian vernacular,

“That really sucks”.

 

 

 

 

So, while Chad and the BLP,

Rejoice over their landslide victory,

Over 5000 of the electorate stayed away

Displaying their apathy.

 

We are missing the point

If this fact we cannot see

That the majority of the electorate

Is voting neither party.

 

Stewart Russell © May 22, 2025

 

Parody of Freedom

 

 

A misrepresentation:

The freedom of the world,

It is a parody for certain

And pathetically absurd.

 

Highly prejudicial,

Like a pseudo freedom

Guaranteed to the powerful

But to the weak, seldom.

 

A parody of sorts

A misrepresentation,

Worldly freedom really and truly

Is a domination.

 

Domination of the weak

By the very strong

And oppression of the poor

All day long.

 

 

A selective freedom

That’s clearly not for all

And the law supposedly in support,

Deliberately stalled.

 

Justice delayed

And very often denied,

And the freedom of the weak

Brushed aside.

 

A pseudo freedom

That is no freedom at all,

This dollars-and-cents freedom

I absolutely appall.

 

 

A parody of justice

Certainly, for the poor,

The law might be in their favour

But can they afford…

 

The price of a lawyer

To fight their case

So that that which they spend

Do not go to waste?

 

 

What good is freedom

If it is out of reach

And the law seems powerless

To mend the breach?

 

Out of poor man’s reach

Accessible to the rich

And of course, to them skilled

In deviant politics…

 

Where money talks

And power overwhelms

And from corrupt leadership

All evil stems.

 

Where God is omitted

And the moral code

Has been drastically changed

From that of old.

 

 

Freedom for the rich

Freedom for the powerful

But a parody, I must reiterate,

For the vulnerable.

 

A misrepresentation

When it comes to the poor

And for the most vulnerable

It is a closed door.

 

Still enslaved

With no cash in hand

At least not enough to purchase

Freedom on demand.

 

Stewart Russell © February 20, 2025

 

C O S P

 

 

I am wearing those letters

Right on my forehead,

They say who I am in Christ Jesus

And by whom I am led.

 

Having had an encounter

With Jesus in the past,

I said yes to his gracious offer

And stepped into his class.

 

“Come unto me,” he said,

“And I will give you rest,”

And now I am no longer cursed

But has joined the blessed.

 

Like a lost sheep I was

Doing my own thing,

Caring not for the things godly

Wearing the devil’s ring.

 

Satan had claimed me

By his abundant deceit

But Jesus opened my blind eyes

And I fell at his feet.

 

 

 

He gave to me a title

That is his only to give

Whereupon, once I was dead,

But now I live.

 

The first resurrection

And my gateway to heaven

And he assured this poor sinner

That my sins are forgiven.

 

From that very moment

My initials changed,

A new name was given to me

And letters rearranged.

 

Prior to my conversion

The letters spelt D E A D

But thereafter that encounter,

They are C O S P instead.

 

You must be wondering

What C O S P means,

These letters are given to anyone

When they come clean.

 

Acknowledgement of God

And confession of their sin,

And who in contrite repentance

Invites Jesus in.

 

The very best response

To the Saviour’s invitation

When in that signalled encounter,

He offers us salvation.

 

 

 He is the only Saviour

And his, the only salvation,

Whereupon acceptance of Jesus,

There is redemption.

 

Redeemed, bought back,

“Buying back” one’s own!

Satan no longer has shares in me,

I am Christ’s alone.

 

A new name is now mine

With letters rearranged:

“Called Out, Sealed, Protected”

C O S P is the change.

 

Therein is my witness

Thus, stamped in my heart,

“Called Out, Sealed, Protected”

Never to depart.

 

No longer D E A D

But most assuredly C O S P,

“Called Out, Sealed, Protected”

For all eternity.

 

Stewart Russell © May 20, 2025