Go and Grow and Glow

 

Don’t wait till you are ready

To do the master’s bidding,

Start from the moment you are aware

That you are spiritually living.

We have all been saved to serve

If in fact we are really saved

And from the moment we’re born again

There’s a change in how we behave.

The light is switched on to go

From then we begin to grow

And while at times it may be fast or slow

Our light is set up to glow.

Brighter and brighter it will beam

As we do the Master’s will

And the more we go the more it’ll glow

And we will be growing still.

Our light is never switched to off

It cannot possibly be,

The Master’s the one that switched it on

For the world around to see.

That’s what service truly is,

It is really about being available,

The Lord hath need of all of us

And He ensures that we are able.

It is a full time service

As long as you’ve been made alive

And with the Holy Spirit’s indwelling

That service will always thrive.

As humans it will sometimes lag

As our bodies become tired and weak

But God will give the strength to go on

If it is His purpose that we seek.

Service at home and service at church

Service everywhere you go,

That’s what believers are called to do

So do God’s service now you know.

Stewart Russell © March 2018

I Got THIS

Christmas was coming

There were no geese to get fat

And I didn’t have a penny

To waste on anyone’s hat.

But I was looking forward

To Christmas morning service

When lo and behold

I encounter THIS.

What is THIS?

I know you would ask

Getting rid of THIS

Is a mammoth task.

What are you talking about?

Another good question

THIS is a health challenge

My recent imposition.

Some strange things have happened

All across the world

THIS is one of them

By now you would have heard.

Trump was elected

It was not what I expected

Somehow THIS was detected

And now I am infected.

What are you talking about?

Cool it, have a little patience

THIS will be around for a bit

You will need some resilience.

Thursday before Christmas

I was shopping, not much

Felt this tickle in the throat

Just a little tickle as such.

Friday morning would you believe?

The tickle was a lump

When ever I swallowed

My saliva climbed a hump.

THIS could not be ignored

My attention was required

And by mid-morning

My throat was on fire.

It was like my Adam’s apple

Was turned outside in

Narrowing the passage

And hindering swallowing.

THIS was not nice

As you could well imagine

Just like in the Bible

I wondered, “Who did sin?”

Well a friend called me up

And asked how I was doing

“Not too well,” I said,

“Looks like the flu came in.”

He said, “Definitely for sure

For I had it too

And it real, real bad

That is so true.”

He said, “You think you’re over it

Then, Bam! Another hit

THIS becomes like a habit

Enough to break your spirit.”

THIS is a progression

Perhaps starting with the throat

Next it would move to the head

THIS is like “Murder She Wrote”.

Like as in my case

THIS attacked my throat first

Next THIS moved to my head

The rocks almost caused it to burst.

Every time I held down

 My head felt like it had in rocks

And by the time I came back up

I could feel the aftershocks.

THIS isn’t nice at all

You would wish it on nobody

Not on your cruelest foe

Or even your worst enemy.

THIS wasn’t finished yet

After the head came the nose

So blocked up and runny for so

I could not easily doze.

I tried to get to sleep

But merely tossed and turned

And the rag to dab my nose

Would make your stomach churn.

You get a little ease

And so you drift off to sleep

But you are kind of restless

Nothing really deep.

THIS moved from nose to eyes

Eyes red like I drunk

You say it was Christmas time

That idea in your head, debunk!

I’ve never been drunk in my life

Not at Christmas or any time

THIS is not an alcoholic drink

So please do not be unkind.

From throat to head

Then nose, then eyes

THIS was not through with me yet

It seemed to target my demise.

During the day

You could almost feel it gone

But when evening comes around

THIS becomes your storm.

Four mornings on a stretch

I woke up before six

I really wished to sleep

But THIS had me in a fix.

 

Eyes Stuck down with adhesive

And face in a terrible mess

I struggled to the washbasin

To rid me of THIS stress.

It took a fair bit of time

To remove the stubborn goo

If you want to stick an item

THIS can supply the glue.

THIS was not finished yet

It deposited in me some stuff

I tried to make some withdrawals

And that was very rough.

Four mornings consecutively

Either from up or down

Came some yellowish, greenish stuff

It’s all right for you to frown.

I know if THIS gets you

All the poise and frills will go

And the scorn you show me now

Will disappear when THIS shows.

THIS has not yet left me

I pray THIS would go away

But THIS is a stubborn old fellow

And for a while must have his say.

THIS had a say on Christmas morning

It’s on track for Old Year’s Night

But I want THIS to understand

I will not give in without a fight.

I am still experiencing the ills

In all the areas I’ve mentioned

Not as bad as they were at first

But I still have some apprehension.

There are some remaining points

That THIS could still affect

However any chance that it will happen

I absolutely reject.

By now you have an idea

What THIS could really be

You may not be a doctor

But the symptoms you can see.

THIS they say is a virus

A real bad virus of the flu

Concerning where it came from

I really wish I knew.

Here in our little island

Some have given it a name

I am reluctant to repeat it

So no name, no lock up, no shame.

Because of THIS progression

It trumps up as it proceeds

Attacking one point at a time

Before it finally recedes.

It is not uncommon to hear

When working with a friend

“I got this, don’t you worry

I’ll see it to the end.”

Next time you’d better ask

Particularly if he is alone

“What do you mean by this?”

THIS might very well be

Trump’s Harsh Influenza Syndrome.

My throat is still sore
On mornings it's worse
THIS is not playing 
It's like a curse.

This is my prayer for you
That you don't catch THIS
And that your prayer for me is
 I get to Old Year's Night service. 

Signed:

I got THIS
Tired Running Up My Pressure
Forward Latest Update

Stewart Russell © 2016

The Monster on the Church Wall

 

 

Mrs. Watkins sat uneasily in her seat appearing to listen to Rev. Haynes as he expounded the Scriptures that Sunday night.  She always enjoyed his preaching for he was humorous but yet profound.  This night, however, she was encountering an experience that had nothing to do with the message.  All was well with her until the largest church lizard came to rest on the wall just above her.  She had kept an eye on him all night as he preyed on the flying insects which were silly enough to venture too close.

                                           

Ever since the time when one of these such reptiles had jumped on her, she was never at ease with them in her vicinity.  She was really uncomfortable now.   She was unable to move further along the seat because of the people sitting next to her.  She did not want to disturb them because they seemed quite intent on the message and yet she was especially terrified by the monster poised above her.  Unable to do anything about her predicament, she tried as much as possible to remain composed.  She kept one eye on the reptile and the other on the preacher.

Suddenly the creature raised its head.  She was sure it was going to jump.  It appeared to stare at her with such deliberation that she became afraid to look at it directly.  She sat and prayed in her seat that this monster would not jump.  Suddenly an idea struck her.  With all the unconvincing courage she could muster, she decided to give the creature one of her sharp looks.  This look had always worked with her Sunday school class when a youngster was not paying attention.  This strategy had absolutely no effect on the lizard.  He just stayed there and stared at her.  She tried rolling her eyes and bearing her teeth but the creature stood its ground.  With that she had not the slightest doubt that this creature of which she was so afraid, had definite intentions and those intentions were on her.

 

“But why?” she wondered. What was there about her that of all the congregation, it had picked out her?  Why did it have to choose her wall for a resting place?

“Perhaps,” she thought, “therein lies the answer.”

Mrs. Watkins was a creature of habit.  She operated by her own set routine and allowed nothing or anyone to alter it.  Every time she entered church she sat in the same seat.  For over thirty years she had done this.  She became so obsessed with this practice that if anyone was occupying that seat when she arrived,  he or she was forced to move.  More often than not, however, she was always early enough to procure her seat before anybody else took it.  The members knew her so well that they would always say, even to strangers, “You had better not sit there, that seat is reserved.”  At this time, however, any seat in the church would be preferable to the one in which she was now sitting.
                

The duel of stares continued.  She could no longer concentrate on what Rev. Haynes was saying for all her attention was now focused on the reptile on the wall.  Needless to say, she was also the centre of attraction for the lizard.  Their locked eyes and made four and neither blinked nor was in  anyway distracted from the object of their intent.  As she looked steadily at the lizard, it appeared to grow bigger and bigger.  It started to crawl along the wall nearer and nearer, the effect causing her heart to pump faster and faster and louder and louder.  She could not believe her eyes.  “Was this monster growing right before my eyes?” she asked herself, her fear building to panicky heights.   She touched the member beside her trying discreetly to get her attention but the member was too absorbed in the service to notice her.  On her second attempt , she was reprimanded with, “Be quiet!  I don’t want to miss this point.”  It was as though this were some orchestrated plan to teach her a lesson.  She considered her options carefully and as she deliberated, the monster on the wall crawled closer and closer.
                           

The lizard stopped.  It lifted its head high showing a yellowish bag beneath its mouth.  It was as if it were propping on the bag.  Suddenly, as if by magic, the bag disappeared.  The creature rose up on its legs with its tail lifting high in the air and then there was an ear splitting scream, the compliments of Sister Watkins.  The service came to an abrupt end and all eyes stared at one object.  Sister Watkins was in a frantic state as she tried to evict the unwelcome visitor which had landed in her hair.  So much was her fright, that she soon passed out.  When she regained consciousness she was lying in one of the pews.  The first words she uttered was, “Why me?  Why did he choose me?”

Having exhausted his night’s supply of food, the lizard had spied a lone insect flying over Sister Watkins’ head.  Patiently he had waited until the insect had alighted then he made his advance.  Each time he moved the insect would start flying around again.  He had inched closer and closer until he was near enough to spring on his prey.  As soon as the bat alighted again, the lizard sprang.  The rest is history. 

Sister Watkins no longer sits in that seat.  The seat is no longer reserved and in addition Sister Watkins stays away from walls.  The next time you sit near the wall in church, look up.  There might be a monster above you.

                                          Stewart Russell © 1999