Shut Out

 

 

The bumming on the door

Could be heard both far and near,

He was locked out of his house

To me, that was clear.

 

I stood up not far off

To see what he would do

But the bumming only continued

With nothing else in view.

 

Mr. Moron had lived there

With his wife, Mrs. Simpleton

And all of their neighbours were aware

Of their common problem.

 

Take Moron by name

And add Simpleton by nature

And between the two of them

You’d get the total picture.

 

Mr. Moron was sweeping the step

When a gust of wind blew the door in,

He didn’t have a key

And started up a din.

 

He kept on bumming on the door

While exercising his lungs

And his voice could be heard

Calling out for Simpleton.

 

Simpleton! Simpleton!

Try and open this door!

And hearing no response

He pommelled the door more.

 

It was as though

This door was his wife

Whom he had often beaten

Within an inch of her life.

 

It was their modus operandi

For they have never fallen out

And with him now on the outside

It was his time to shout.

 

Suddenly she was standing beside him

With a quizzical face,

“Moron,” she asked him,

Why are you knocking down the place?

 

“I want you to let me in,

Cause I locked myself out.”

And with that

The two of them started to shout.”

 

“Let us in! Let us in!

Whoever is inside!

This is our humble dwelling place

And it is here we abide.”

 

They said this repeatedly,

Obviously, this had happened before

So, they kept on banging and shouting

And threatening the door.

 

“If you were inside,” Moron said,

You could open the door

And we wouldn’t have to fret

And shout out anymore.”

 

“That’s a brilliant idea,”

Mrs. Simpleton said to Mr. Moron,

“But I am locked out too

And that is the problem!”

 

“Let’s pretend you were inside

Then you could open the door,

And I would be able to come in

And not be out here anymore.”

 

“Okay, so I am in the house

And I have opened the door,

Now you can come in, you moron,

Don’t stand out there anymore.”

 

The bumming had stopped

But now it started up again,

“Simpleton! Simpleton! Try and open this door!”

Tell me my dear reader, which would you blame?

 

Stewart Russell © May 2020

No Kidding

 

 

If I send you for the left shoe

And you bring the left shoe

Wouldn’t that be the right shoe?

 

But if send you for the left shoe

And you bring the right shoe

Then that would be the wrong shoe

 

It’s like driving in Barbados

To drive on the left is to be right

But I guess you knew

 

That’s a collapsible chair

You better not sit on it

Why? You may ask.  Well it might collapse

 

If the house burn down

You may have saved some stuff

But if it burn up nothing might be saved

 

The bottom line is that if you work hard

You would likely reach the top

If not your top will be someone’s bottom

 

If I ask you if the answer is no and you say yes

Then your no is the same as yes

It means for once I can trust your word

 

To dig a hole one starts from the top

But get out of it he starts from the bottom

If there is no top there is no bottom

 

He told the truth when he said he lied

But he lied when he said he told the truth

Don’t you worry; I have the proof

 

 

People living near a cemetery

 Are never buried therein

But then again neither are those dying elsewhere

 

He was standing at the front of the church

But the evidence was inadmissible

As to whether he was inside or outside

Either of the two was probable

 

If one is coming back now

It would have to be now he is coming back

Chances are he will arrive later

 

If nowhere is no place

Then how is it possible to get there?

And more particularly to get there by doing nothing

 

There’s one thing I cannot do when I am sleeping

That is to wake up

Yet that is the very thing I am expected to do

 

I am especially concerned

When I am not concerned

Since not to be concerned

Gives me a very good reason to be concerned

 

Is it possible to do the impossible

When the impossible is not possible?

Yes, only if the impossible is possible

Then God can

 

Stewart Russell © August 22, 2021

 

He

 

 

 

He may call the equipped

Or He may equip the called,

Whether before or after

He equips them all.

 

For a task He prepares them;

His task is to prepare

All them that are committed

To His loving care.

 

It is God that I speak of

I am sure that you knew,

It took me a while

Before I came to this view.

 

We bring nothing to Him

Other than ourselves,

There is absolutely nothing

We can take from our shelves.

 

This is to remind us

However bright we may feel

On Him we totally depend,

To Him we must yield.

 

There is no failure in Him

Though we will often fail

And our failure occurs

Whenever we set our sail.

 

To set our sail is to determine

Where we will go

And we do so in ignorance

Since the way we don’t know.

He must set our sail

And He must steer our ship,

He knows the currents that are

And the tides that rip.

 

So whatever we feel

About whatever we see,

He must remain in charge

However that may be.

 

He is our compass

And our rudder and power,

We must keep faith in Him

Each and every hour.

 

We will never arrive

Not ever in this life

But we have the Spirit’s deposit

To help in the strife.

 

He makes it possible

For the Three to be with us

That is the Father and the Spirit

And the Son, Jesus.

 

With such infinite resources

We have the guarantee

That we can make it to the shore

And that, successfully.

 

So whether you feel equipped

Or equipped you must be

Just say yes to His call

And enroll for free.

He will take you on board

It is you He has called,

Just accept Him at His Word

And give Him your all.

 

Instant transformation will occur

And its continuance too

And you will find without doubt,

What He says is true.

 

He keeps His Word

He never ever takes it back,

He is absolutely reliable

And that is a fact.

 

Even when we are unfaithful

He is still faithful and true,

I have found Him to be so,

Haven’t you?

 

Stewart Russell © February 2020

The Ass that Horsed Around

 

 

The story is told of a faithful ass

That one day horsed around

Or so it appeared to his master

That actually beat him to the ground.

 

He always did his master’s bidding

But one day he resisted,

His master got particularly angry

And vehemently insisted.

 

The ass began to horse around

And behaved like a mule,

The man became increasingly mad

And acted like a fool.

 

Instead of being reasonable

He started to smite the ass,

Nothing like this had ever happened

But proper thinking became a task.

 

The man was on a mission

That he should not have been on

And the fact the way was blocked

Had not upon him dawned.

But the ass was quite aware

And veered off into a field

Whereupon his master smote him

Refusing to take his lead.

 

The ass had no other option

Than to rush against the wall,

Again, the master smote him

Causing the ass to fall.

 

With the ass upon the ground

His master beat him with his staff,

What happened next my goodly friend

Would make most people laugh.

 

The ass began to talk

And his master answered back,

The poor animal was an ass

But his master had to be half-cracked.

 

Never before had this man owned

An ass that talked to him

And the fact that he had answered back

Says he must have been pretty dim.

 

The eyes of the ass were opened

Before his master’s own were,

Finally, he saw who blocked the path

And with his ass concurred.

It was the angel of the Lord

And in his hand, he held a sword,

He had stood in the way of the man

For he heeded not his word.

 

I have a very strong feeling

That by now you know the man,

But just in case you do not

Let me introduce you to Balaam.

 

However, my focus was not on him

But on his ass that horsed around,

That is how it must have appeared

To Balaam who proved to be quite dumb.

 

Stewart Russell © April 2020

 

On Our Way Home

 

 

We’re on our way home

There’s no turning back,

From the moment we’re born

That is the hard fact.

 

From the new born babe

When it draws its first breath

Life’s journey is begun

On its way to death.

 

Birth is the beginning

And that’s when we rejoice

But sooner or later will be

The grim reaper’s voice.

 

The victim won’t hear it

Since he would be already gone

But regarding them that remain,

They would be forewarned.

 

We’re on our way home

From the moment we’re born,

Call me morbid if you must

But this is the norm.

 

“Born to die” says the epitaph

Inscribed on a tombstone

Verifying the fact

We are on our way home.

 

This may sound purposeless

But it need not be so

If the Christ I have come to know

You also know.

 

It must not be an obsession

But we should be aware

And for that eventual homegoing

We ought to be prepared.

 

To live without Christ

Means the worst death to die,

This may sound paradoxical

But let me explain why.

 

Without Christ we are dead

In our trespasses and sin

And so, we die without hope

If we never come to him.

 

Philippians 1:21

 

However, if while I live,

In my heart, the Lord Christ reigns,

Then “for to me to live is Christ,

And to die is gain.”

 

So, I do not fear my homegoing

As much as I did before

For in Christ I now live

And my election is sure.

 

Positively respond to his call

If you hear him today,

Right now, he may be calling you,

Please don’t turn him away!

 

You are on your way home

And there’s no turning back,

From the moment you were born

That was the hard fact.

 

Stewart Russell © July 28, 2021

 

In the Cross I Glory

 

 

I will glory in the cross

On which Christ’s blood was shed

I will walk the path he trod

And by his hand be led

 

And though I murmur and complain

I will walk with him each day

For when all is said and done

There is no better way

 

Christ’s cross not the crucifix

Shall be my abiding light

And when I’m down and feeling lost

He will guide my steps aright

 

I will never be ashamed

Of the cross and what it means

Daily I will gaze there on

And reflect on its saving theme

 

 

It is through his selfless sacrifice

That today I live in him

Freely pardon and liberated

From the debilitating power of sin

 

Like an emaciated wimp was I

Prone to Satan’s charm

Falling for his enticing deals

Ignorant of their spiritual harm

 

But one day the cross loomed great

And on it I saw the Christ

Crucified in my stead he was

For my sin and all my vice

 

I should have been crucified I thought

As I recalled that song

I am the one that should have died

Since Christ had done no wrong

 

But my death could not have sufficed

For the sins of all the world

It required the life of the sinless one

That of Christ the Living Word

 

My death could not even have covered

The sins that I commit

But God chose to judge His Son

And the cross was His remit

 

Men have argued about its shape

Whether a cross or stake

Such is of no consequence to me

Compared to my sinful state

 

I concur with the songwriter

And I need no other argument

It was on some tree that Jesus died

And my salvation was his intent

 

 

I will glory in his cross

Hewed from some forgotten tree

For ‘twas on that cross that Jesus died

He died for you and me

 

I will glory in his cross

The remains of which cannot be found

For my sins have all been washed away

And now I am glory bound

 

I will glory in his cross

For one day I will see his face

The one who paid sin’s price for me

Nailed to that cross in my place

 

I will glory in his cross

For there is nothing better to do

His life for mine, my life to him

My brother and sister, how about you?

 

Stewart Russell (c) February 2019

 

Psalm 82:3-4

 

 

“Defend the weak and fatherless,

 Bring justice to the poor and oppressed.

Rescue the weak and needy,

Deliver them from the hand of the wicked.

 

To those that God has enabled,

The above is your remit today,

Of Governments and leaders in society

Do not from this stray.

 

If you have been blessed with much

More than enough for your needs,

Then please help another less fortunate:

Let this be your creed.

 

Defend the weak and fatherless

If placed in a leadership position,

To the strong and parentally established

This too is your mission.

 

Bring justice to the poor and oppressed:

There’s ample opportunity for such,

Less boast re what you’ve accumulated

And help those without much. 

 

Rescue the weak and needy:

Obviously, here’s a word to the strong,

Lift up a head that is bowed down

And help to bring him along.

 

Deliver them from the wicked

The intent of whom is destruction,

Become an obstacle to the oppressors

Who will stop at nothing.

 

If God has called you to such

Then you He has appropriately equipped,

All that you need he has provided

To make you fighting fit.

 

Waste not His resources on the haves

But minister to the haves-not,

If where you are speaks of abundance

You are accountable for this lot.

 

 

“Defend the weak and fatherless,

 Bring justice to the poor and oppressed.

Rescue the weak and needy,

Deliver them from the hand of the wicked.

 

Stewart Russell © May 8, 2022