Offer Accepted Offer Rejected

 

 

It is not a life lived

But because of an offer accepted

And for all those who eventually perish

It would be an offer rejected.

 

The preacher, as he concluded his sermon,

Gave the following admonition to all,

That they would live in such a way that when death comes

They would have the hope of living eternally with God.

 

And while the preacher was sincere

In his admonition to the congregation

Something was missing from this counsel

And that is the Gospel of salvation.

 

Many are trying to enter heaven

On what they do and do not do

And if you are one of these such persons

I have some serious news for you.

 

No amount of good deeds or acts

Will get any one into heaven

It is only by the precious blood of Jesus

That the penitent is forgiven.

 

No amount of sacrifice or self-denial

Will qualify us for the Lamb’s book of life,

Such will not guarantee us a pass

Even if it makes us feel nice.

 

In the Gospel of John and chapter 3

Jesus makes it very plain,

Unless a person is born again

There is absolutely nothing to gain.

 

Nicodemus was living a quality life

Being a teacher of the Jews

But Jesus stuck his spiritual bubble

And ransacked his religious views.

 

Except a man be born again,

Please my reader, let me repeat,

His impeccable life will count for nothing

If heaven is the home he seeks.

 

And you could keep the ten commandments

Including the highlighted fourth,

If you have not been born again

All this would still be a spent force.

 

It comes right down to two responses

Whether you accept or reject

The offer that God has made to man

For in Jesus all God’s requirements are met.

 

Our fruit is not a requirement,

Certainly not for our redemption

But for the critics and pundits looking on,

It is the evidence of salvation.

 

Jesus could not be the only way of salvation

If there was some other way,

Such would be a distortion of sorts

Like there is no black or white, just grey.

 

Accept God’s offer of salvation!

Jesus the way, the truth and the life,

In the final analysis this is all that counts

Even in the midst of all earth’s strife.

 

To accept God’s offer is to accept life

To reject is to reject the Lord Christ,

Thus, there remains no hope in the latter case

Having spurned God’s sacrifice.

 

Stewart Russell © February 10, 2021

 

Hanging by A Breath

 

 

 

You’d have heard someone say

“I was hanging by a thread”

As a way of expressing some drama

That had filled him with dread.

 

Some hair-raising experience

He believed was surely the end

But miraculously lived to tell the tale

To both foe and friend.

 

You could hear the expression,

“Boy I was hanging by a thread.

I am not kidding you

But that experience was dread.”

 

For some it’s once in a lifetime

For others it may be twice or thrice

But how ever frequent it occurs

This experience is never nice.

 

 

 

But there is another hanging

That happens non-stop,

It is every minute of every day

And it’s everybody’s lot.

 

It happens to the weak

And it happens to the strong,

To those who think they are right

As well as to them that are wrong.

 

It happens to the poor

And it happens to the rich,

To them that reside in the palace

And to them stranded in a ditch.

 

Politicians experience it

And so too the Pope,

The powerful and the powerless

Without it cannot cope.

 

The believer and the non-believer

The saved and the unsaved,

On a breath we are all hanging;

Both the coward and the brave.

 

Just refuse the next breath

And you will see what I mean, 

If you are successful

It will be your death scene.

 

 

Yes, take another breath

And don't you let it go

And as sure as I am typing now

It'll be the end of your show.

 

As healthy as we think we are

It is the next breath that matters

For life is as long as the final breath

And that aborts all chatter.

 

 

 

Hanging by a single breath

Each and every day,

From split second to split second

The human life drains away.

 

Far more critically important

Becomes the hanging by a breath

For when that final breath comes,

For that John Doe this is death.

 

Stewart Russell © September 21, 2022

 

Which Rebuilt Temple?

 

 

 

I hear of a rebuilt temple,

I mean one to come

Where the Jews will worship

In a millennium kingdom.

 

It’s after the tribulation

When the Jews will be gathered in,

And all of them in a single day

Will be saved from their sin.

 

It bothers me, though,

If this is really true,

Then for whom did Jesus die?

This question is to you.

 

When he said, it was finished

What did he really mean?

What was it that was finished,

If not the old covenant theme?

 

If the blood sacrifices were types

And the physical temple a shadow,

Why rebuild a new temple?

Please tell me; I want to know.

 

 

If the middle wall of partition

Was really broken down,

Then on the idea of a new temple

We ought to frown.

 

I like the Sunday school song

We sang so long ago,

It conveyed an understanding

That I think we need to know.

 

“We’re building up a temple

We’re building up a temple

We’re building up a temple of the Lord,

Hey brother, won’t you help?

Hey sister, won’t you help?

We’re building up a temple of the Lord.”

 

1 Peter 2:5; 1 Corinthians 3:16

 

What is the nature of this temple?

It’s a temple not made with hands,

But a temple of lively stones:

A spiritual house, as God planned.

 

To offer up spiritual sacrifices

Acceptable to God by Jesus Christ,

We, as lively stones, are God’s temple

Ever since his finished sacrifice.

 

The disciples once went to Jesus

To show him the temple structure

And no doubt, they were disappointed,

As he showed them the sad picture.

 

Not one stone, he said then,

Would be left upon another,

As he foretold the temple’s destruction

The disciples were clearly bothered.

 

They equated this with Jesus’ return

And the end of the world,

“When shall these things be?” they asked,

They were clearly perturbed.

 

The temple was the centre-piece

That is all that they knew,

Just like the ark of the covenant

It was security to the Jew.

 

The temple with its sacrifices

Was coming to its end,

The old covenant would pass away

And this was around the bend.

 

 

This was the rebuilt temple

From back in Persian times

And its destruction, after Herod’s upgrade,

Would be a significant sign.

 

It was a splendid edifice

Of which the Jews were proud

But not long after Jesus’ prophecy

Its destruction would be loud.

 

The end of the Mosaic covenant

The end of the blood sacrifice,

Another would become the focus

And that would be Jesus Christ.

 

So, when I hear of a rebuilt temple

I really have to ask, “Which one?”

It can’t be one in our future

For the temple worship has gone.

 

Stewart Russell © June 2020

 

Unconditional Love

 

 

What do I know about it?

Little, if anything,

What’s the quality of my practice?

In this, I am lacking.

 

Sounds kind of hollow

Whenever I hear it,

My example and what daily I see

Is a not a habit.

 

I still struggle with self

More than I should

And tell me if I could do better

You know I would.

 

Yes, I often talk to myself

Trying to convince me

That I am doing the best I can

But not truthfully.

 

Unconditional love

What is your grade?

I can tell you that as for myself,

Mine is a FAIL!

 

Don’t you begin to think

I am hard on myself

For of all the photos in my mind

I’m # 1 on my shelf.

 

You may say I am honest

Given my analysis

Because I have openly confessed

I am first on my list.

 

But admitting to guilt

Should not me excuse

Or anyone else, for that matter,

If the wrong they choose.

 

It is practically not easy:

Unconditional love,

Though Jesus demonstrated it

When he came for above.

 

 

There is absolutely no self

In unconditional love,

For you that scored yourself high

That’s what I’m talking of.

 

I am seeing the adjustment

You are already making,

Unconditional love is about giving

Far more than taking.

 

Now create two columns:

Under “Giving and Taking”

And show me that you give more

Than you rake in.

 

Do not include your bills

Or even your tithes:

Women, don’t include your husbands

Or husbands, your wives.

 

Check the good Samaritan

Back in the Bible time,

This was unconditional love;

He wasn’t just kind.

 

 

He risked his own life

For his life-long foe,

Very unlike the Levite and priest

Who no concern showed.

 

Unconditional love

Isn’t who is my neighbour

But rather, and fundamentally so,

Am I a neighbour?

 

Note the lawyer’s question:

“Who is my neighbour?”

And note Jesus’ pedagogical approach

In cluing him the answer.

 

Don’t ask the question

Who is my neighbour

But do the introspection and ask:

Am I a neighbour?

 

Luke 10:37

 

And he said,

He that shewed mercy on him.

Then said Jesus unto him,

Go, and do thou likewise.

 

Romans 5:7-8

 

For scarcely for a righteous man

Will one die:

Yet peradventure for a good man

Some would even dare to die.

 

But God

Commendeth his love toward us,

In that, while we were yet sinners,

Christ died for us.

 

Herein then,

Is unconditional love:

That Jesus Christ gave up all,

Even heaven above.

 

Stewart Russell © November 28, 2024

 

Moored to Oneself

 

 

To what are we moored

In this pluralistic time

Where everything seems relative

And jelly is spine?

 

No difference, it seems,

Between sand and rock

And one can pass for the other

Like dress and frock.

 

Nothing is steadfast

And we just float around,

Same difference, some would say,

Whether up or down.

 

To each his own reality-

That’s how he sees it,

No reference point or benchmark

Informs his habit.

 

Moored to myself

Makes me feel free

And it really does not matter

If I drift aimlessly.

 

No beginning, no end,

All one continuous bend

Riding the world’s merry-go-round,

World without end.

 

No reference-point

Nothing by which to gauge,

The entire world is just a stage

And I am its sage.

 

It’s me and me alone

Accountable to only me,

And my truth is as good as anyone’s

So, set me free.

 

 

 

Nothing is absolute!

Bear this in your mind,

One man’s freedom, my friend,

Is another’s bind.

 

It’s nothing topsy-turvy

If it works for me,

I am the centre of the universe,

And I am free.

 

My beauty is my beauty,

My truth is my truth,

Thus, my values are my values

And I am my proof.

 

My reason to be here

Is my own purpose,

It has nothing to do with anyone

Hence, it is just.

 

The survival of the fittest?

Call it what you may,

This means of all there is, I succeed

While all beside me fail.

 

 

 

I am moored to me:

Distinctly myself and I

And don’t you dare try to change me;

Don’t even try.

 

And so, I present to you

The world’s dilemma,

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

And each book its cover.

 

Thus, all things of beauty

But no distinctive beauty,

No benchmark by which a judge

Can perform his duty.

 

Many varying values

But no moral plumb line,

Morality and immorality are the same

Together combined.

 

 

 

A myriad of truths:

Yours and mine and theirs

But no truth by which to measure

What is just and fair. 

 

Different purposes

But no defining purpose

That rightly informs all of humanity

On his return to the dust.

 

From dust created He us

To dust we will return

And the sooner we understand this

The more we will learn.

 

God is the only absolute

By which all can be measured

And to ignore His divine blueprint

Is to miss life’s treasure.

 

Truth is at the top

Forming value and beauty,

Out of these emerges our purpose

That informs our duty.

 

 

 

Moored to the Rock

Though adaptive to change,

For to be moored to oneself

Is to be deranged.

 

Stewart Russell © September 17, 2025

 

Valentine Downplayed?

  

 

 

Was it me

Or was it true

A downplayed Valentine

Was in view?

 

A lot of red

But not of Cupid,

A campaign was going

For a 3-peat bid.

 

 

 

Love of party

And of Mia Amor

And re that sea of red

Above she soared.

 

Maybe today

With results finalized

The fact of Valentine

Will be realized.

 

I imagined it?

Maybe probably so

After all, quite a lot of red

Was on show.

 

A gift of 30 seats:

Mia’s Valentine gift

And to the Botanical Gardens

Many will drift.

 

‘Twill be a sea of red

Over that place

And the Valentine photo

Will be Mia’s face.

 

 

 

The triumphant red

Over yellow and green

Will be readily on display

With their queen.

 

Congrats to the BLP

And to Mia on her 3-peat,

No room for the others;

Not a single seat.

 

Spare a thought

For Valentine Day,

Don’t let the party of red have it

All their way.

 

 

 

Combine the two

As you celebrate,

Remember it’s a love date

And don’t hate.

 

 

 

For we are all one

Bajan born and bred

And all colours are significant

But today, it’s red.

 

And let’s hope

Out of it will come good

For the nation and its people

As it should.

 

Happy Valentine

To all of you!

To the BLP, DLP, FOD, et al,

Keep love in view. 

 

Stewart Russell © February 14, 2026