Eve’s Regret

It was the most beautiful garden

 You had ever seen

My husband was the king

And I was the queen

I remember the day

I set my eyes on him

Back there was no lust

No hatred no sin

I recall God coming down

In the cool of the day

He would just commune with us

Even then that was His way

Those were lovely times

But O how I regret!

The folly I did then

A simple term I reject

It was not the “you can”

That was my trial

It was the simple “don’t”

That was used by Belial

He or it or whatever

Was in the garden too

He was smart and knew a lot

That I had wished I knew

Back to the garden though

Before I talk about him

Before meeting him

I hadn’t known sin

This garden was immaculate

Everything was clean

No garbage or litter

Was ever there seen

The trees were lovely

A tremendous variety

And the fruit on their limbs

Were divinely tasty

There was a particular tree

It was right in the middle

It was the tree of life

Sounds like a riddle

If only we had eaten

Of that tree instead

We would be alive all like now

Nobody would be dead

But that wasn’t the way

How things turned out

I believed Satan

And God did doubt

There was not much to do

But enjoy the scene

Everything was so pristine

So absolutely serene

I was out one day

When I saw this creature

Its colours were varied

And he spoke like a preacher

He knew what God said

And even more

O he was confident

And very self-assured

And there he was

In this particular tree

It was a tree to be desired

He soon made me see

I was so impressed

By his silvery tongue

In no time at all

My defenses were down

We had conversations with God

But nothing like this

The way Satan projected

Why, this was bliss

Don’t get tied up

About the kind of fruit

That is not the point

Just an offshoot

God had said, “Don’t!”

But Belial had said, “Do!”

God’s word receded

Satan’s word filled my view

I was captured

By his alluring charm

Eating that fruit

Could do me no harm

Even before I tasted it

It was sweet to my lips

So why not take a bite

And enjoy a delicious sip

So that I did

And the rest is history

Before, there was heaven

Now hell is a reality

Everything changed

In my mind it did

From that moment

Both Adam and I hid

Before there was no fear

We felt so strong

Now there was weakness

And a sense of wrong

Before all was good

Now there was evil

Yes, blame Adam and me

For the plight of all people

O how I regret

Having made that choice

Stopping by Satan

And heeding his voice

O how I regret

Having made that misstep

And a simple “don’t”

I decidedly reject

There were so many “cans”

And they all disappeared

That “don’t” was all that mattered

About all I cared

Satan’s word was a lure

God’s word is the truth

I was Satan’s fish

Now you have the proof

I shouldn’t have listened

But I did

And ever since that time

From God man has hid

But there is hope

Thank God for Christ

Who in the fullness of time

Made that sacrifice

For my sin and yours

On Calvary’s cross

We sold you out

But Jesus paid the cost

To redeem you and me

From the curse of sin

Praise be to Jesus

How I thank God for him!

Stewart Russell © September 2017

Just Imagine

Cast your mind way back

Maybe about two thousand years or so,

Come with me along that street

And an amazing thing I will show.

I see a crowd in a procession

Walking slowly along the way,

Observe with me their reluctance

And the heat on that dusty day.

The number of the people is hard to tell

But the crowd comprises a mix

Obviously of the old and the young

With a young man taking his final trip.

You are right; it is a funeral procession

And the dead is a man young in age,

The only son of his widowed mum

And many people with her at this stage.

Their grieving is very plain to see

After all the deceased is just a youth,

Whether he died of disease or accident

I have no idea of the truth.

You know how parents love their children

So keep in mind he was the only one,

Then consider the grief of this mother,

With both husband and only son gone.

Appreciate too the crying and wailing

As they make their way to the cemetery,

Consideration is due this bereaved mother

And that only son she would bury.

No son to protect her from the oppressors,

Think of her anxiety and distress,

No family male to come alongside her

As she confronts life with its many tests.

She may have had a daughter,

Maybe one or two or three

But to have lost her only son

Must have been the height of her misery.

  

Were you in the place of this widow

What would you have done

But do just as she is doing

And mourn the lost of your son?

But stretch your imagination for a moment

To the turn of events as they occur

And as you think of this widow’s plight

What would you wish for her?

I see in my astute observation

Another procession approaching,

There is a man of no striking features

With some men and people accompanying.

As he draws near the city gate

He sees the dead being carried out,

I note his demeanour and eyes of compassion

Are unlike those around with clout.

I see his hand extend to the widow

As he says to her, “Weep not.”

And then he walks up and touches the coffin,

Just this gesture would have meant a lot.

But there is more; it’s so unbelievable,

He is speaking to the dead,

“Young man, I say unto thee, Arise,”

Are the words that he actually said.

And he that was dead sat up

And more than that he began to speak

And this man delivered him to his mother

What a wonderful and unexpected treat!

I am sure this exceeded your wishes

As you thought of this widow’s plight,

Only Jesus could have done this

He is the way, the life and light.

Out of the city the procession went

As into the city the Saviour came,

They to bury a widow’s young son

And he to make him live again.

“I am come,” he says to the spiritually dead,

“That they may have life abundantly.”

Thus all who call upon the name of the Lord

Shall be saved eternally.

Think of our young men on the block

Dead in their trespasses and sins,

Just imagine Jesus’ outstretched hand

Inviting them to come to him.

How he wants to raise them up

And give to them eternal life

And bring great joy to a parent’s heart

To whom they have caused much strife!

And not forgetting our young women

Who are following close behind,

Just imagine the turn around

Our country could do with at this time!

Stewart Russell © August 2017

From Legion to a Legend

You live in a good neighbourhood

He lived among the tombs,

Yours is a life of prospect

His was a life of doom.

He was as strong as strong could be

He would always break his chains,

Psychologist or psychiatrist didn’t matter

Him none of them could tame.

He frequented the mountains

A terrorist wherever he went,

His life was one of terror

Providing Satan with a vent.

He was oft loud and in a rage

He was terrible to the bone

And his unenviable pastime

Was cutting himself with a stone.

One thing could be said for him

He was often on centre stage

Particularly in those times of terror

When he exploded in a rage.

How he had come to be like this

No one seemed to know

But with the help of demons

He was able to stage his show.

No doubt he had a family

And through them a natural birth

For as far as you and I know

That’s how we’re born into the earth.

It is difficult to imagine

That once he was a babe

And was given the kind of loving

That every human craves.

Or perhaps it was never so

Regarding his rearing I mean

And lacking the necessary upbringing

Had become the horror of the scene.

  

That being the nightmarish part

A transformation was about to come

For just stepping off a ship in Galilee

Was Jesus, God’s begotten Son.

Straightway this man confronted him

At first acting respectfully

Acknowledging him as the Son of God

He then complained bitterly.

“Come out of him you unclean spirit

And tell me what is your name.”

“My name is Legion for we are many,”

The demon had made this claim.

And they made a request of Jesus

To let them go into some swine

After which the pigs sped off

Violently down a steep incline.

The pigs all drowned in the lake

That was at the bottom of that incline

And as the people gathered round they saw

The man clothed in his right mind.

He pleaded with Jesus in his request

That he might thus remain with the Lord

But Jesus told him to go to his home

And there he must spread the word.

From terrorist to evangelist,

From bondage to genuine freedom,

From Legion to a legend

This demoniac had met God’s Son.

And so it is with every man

That has come to know the Christ,

A definite change has taken place

Who would think that Legion could be nice?

But such is the power of Jesus

With that divine ability to transform

The chief of the worst of sinners

And calm his raging storm.

You may live in a good neighbourhood,

It may be in the terrace or heights

But without Christ you have no prospect

You are destined to lose life’s fight.

Unless you harken to his word

Another Legion you will be,

Dead in your trespasses and sins

And a spectacle for the world to see.

But from a spectacle to the spectacular

With Christ at centre stage

Your legion of sins would be forgiven,

You’d be cured from your sinful rage.

Just like Legion you’d be a legend

And walk in the way of the righteous,

No longer a child of Satan the devil

But a sinner redeemed by Jesus.

Stewart Russell © July 2017

Wrong People in the Wrong Places

Wrong people in the wrong places:

What do we really mean?

Square pegs in round holes is

Often used to describe this scene.

Wrong people and wrong places

Do you see what I am getting at?

Everything is wrong here

And nothing can change this fact.

Are wrong people right for anything?

Where do they fit if they are wrong?

Can a place be found for them?

Or is a misfit only where they are strong?

Can a right place be found?

Can a wrong person be in a right place?

Wrong people in the right places

Even that doesn’t sound in good taste.

Wrong people in the wrong places,

This cliché is so often abused

That the dunce as well as the educated

Feels quite smug in propagating its misuse. 

It just doesn’t make any sense

O dear simpleton, can’t you see?

All right!  I can see the wrong person

But where O where can that wrong place be?

Let us study a scenario for just a minute,

Someone is put a particular position

But he or she doesn’t do well

Even though with high recommendation.

Perhaps he or she is wrong for the position

But tell me what’s wrong with the place?

Does that wrong person make the place wrong too?

No sense in that; not even a trace.

Was that position seriously needed?

Or was it just politically expedited?

If the place was needed it can’t be wrong,

I hope on this we are all united.

Wrong people in the wrong places

That just does not make any sense

So throw out the over worked cliché

For all who use it there is no defense.

Square pegs in wrong holes?

I may be willing to accept

But wrong people in wrong places

I most definitely reject.

It’s a misnomer if ever there was one

 And I guess you know what that means,

It means a way of saying nothing

It’s better that we decide to come clean.

The place is right but the man is not

And there is someone to fill the spot

Hence the right man for the right place

That’s the way to improve the lot.

The right people in the right places

It’s for that we need to aim

And when we do I am sure we will find

Wrong people in wrong places are not to blame.

For it can never happen, that cliché of sorts

When things never seem to go right

Wrong people in the wrong places - not at all

It’s the wrong man that causes the blight.

So look again; consider what you say,

Contemplate it from head to toe,

This saying, perhaps centuries old

Doesn’t make sense; I hope you can see this is so.

Wrong people in the right places

Now who is to blame?

I leave that for the political experts,

They are best at playing the blame game.

Square pegs in round holes?

Now I can give that a thought

For I know at least one situation

In which square pegs were sought.

Remember the old board and easel

And when round pegs could not be found?

A pair of improvised square pegs worked,

They certainly were not round.

Square pegs work depending on the job

Though with not an exact fit,

The board was kept aloft as though with round pegs

And that chalkboard did not even slip.

Not so in the world of work

In which sound leadership is required,

When such mistakes occur as they often do

The misfits should be removed or be fired.

Wrong people in the wrong places

No!  Such as I have shown is impossible

But the reality is what the reality is:

Right places but filled with wrong people.

Stewart Russell © September 2017