Born Again

 

 

How many times, I ask,

Can one be born again?

Once, twice, three times, maybe four?

What is your truth claim?

 

Can anyone know for sure

That his or her name is written

In the Lamb’s book of life

Which is held in heaven?

 

What assurance is there

That we are born again

If this event occurs over and over

Again, and again?

 

 

“Rejoice,” stated Jesus,

“Your names are written in heaven,”

By implication meaning

You are also forgiven.

 

Chosen in Christ Jesus

Before the foundation of the world,

Go to Ephesians 1 and verse 4

In case you haven’t heard.

 

Can it be scratched out?

I am referring to a name

And be re-entered into the book

Again, and again?

 

Whether yes or no

Show me from the Word

For if yes is the stated answer

We ought to be disturbed.

 

Jesus knows who are his

And his should know him too

For they bear the Spirit’s seal;

Tell me, do you?

 

Is my name written there

On the page bright and fair?

The question of a beautiful hymn,

Is my name written there?

 

 

One must be born again

Not of physical rebirth

But born again of the Holy Spirit;

Of heaven, not of earth.

 

It is a work of grace,

God’s grace I need to add

And it continues in the Holy Spirit

Minus all manmade fads.

 

Plain and straightforward

As told to teacher, Nicodemus,

“Ye must be born again,”

The very words of Jesus.

 

How many times, I ask,

Can one be born again?

Once, twice, three times, maybe four?

What is your truth claim?

 

 

Once, it appears to me,

Not what Nicodemus thought

And so, as in the natural,

It is only once wrought.

 

I know it is puzzling

Re the saving claim of people

That live somewhat differently

From kingdom principles.

 

But leave it to the Lord,

He knows who belong to him,

Just know if you’ve been born again

You’ve been saved from sin.

 

Stewart Russell © June 14, 2024

 

Just One of Those Times

 

 

Just one of those times

When I feel I should write

But there’s a problem here

For nothing is in sight.

 

Just one of those times

No topic on my mind,

There’s none I can find

None to which I am inclined.

 

Yet I am drawn to write

A poem of sorts,

If nothing comes soon

I’d be forced to abort.

 

Even all like now

As I type verse number four

There is no inspiration

But I’ll try some more.

Have patience I am told

Maybe something will unfold,

I am not warming to the task

Everything is cold.

 

This is verse number six

Still trying to get the right mix,

Really stretching my mind now

But can’t get out of this fix.

 

Any suggestion you can give

I’d readily welcome,

If it doesn’t come soon

You can bet I’ll be done.

 

Well it’s too late now

I am packing it up,

Writing without inspiration

Is certainly not my cup.

 

It was only recently

A good friend made a request

But I told her unless I am inspired

I cannot give my best.

 

“But you write well,” she said,

“It should be very easy for you.”

I reiterated, “Unless I am inspired

I cannot do what you require.”

 

That’s similar to right now;

I feel a need to write

But no matter how hard I try

Nothing comes out right.

So before I repeat myself

And bore you half to death

I’ll just repeat verse one

And wish you the best of health.

 

It’s just one of those times

When I feel I should write

But there’s a problem here

For nothing is in sight.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2017

 

My Eschatological Puzzle

 

 

 

Whether Idealist, Historicist,

Preterist or Futurist,

I am definitely positive

There is something they all miss.

 

With each of these four

There is an emphasis

And with their intended unique focus

Some information is dissed.

 

A focus on the past

As in the Preterist’s case

May very well overlook the future

In their eager haste.

 

Similarly, the Futurist,

Intent on their peculiar task

Could have inadvertently missed

The prophetic past.

 

Idealist and Historicist

Could be culpable too

Premising their summations

On a partial view.

 

 

Therein is my puzzle

Concerning any eschatology,

And thus, I refuse to be labelled

By any category.

 

I do believe, however,

Most prophecies are past

And I note that this is a position

Most have not grasped.

 

Prophecy fulfilled

Is a vindication of the Word

That God in his infinite knowledge

Has never deferred.

 

Not one has failed,

They all have come true

And the annals of history show

This to me and you.

 

 

Some have been distant

And some near at hand

But that some indication is given

Has always been God’s plan.

 

In Daniel he was told,

Shut up the words, seal the book,

Go now to Daniel 12 verse 4

And have a look.

 

The urgency was not then

But for a while after

And thus, the sealing of the vision

Until the time of the matter.

 

 

But not so in Revelation

In the vision given to John,

This was sent to seven churches,

Yes, to everyone.

 

It was a matter of urgency

Applicable to them

And that’s why with the Futurist

I have a problem.

 

I have a huge problem

With the Preterist as well,

Concerning the current believers,

What hope do they tell?

 

Hyper Preterist teach

Every prophecy is fulfilled,

There remains not a single one

Regarding God’s will.

 

No coming yet to come

And no physical resurrection,

What then, I am forced to ask,

Is my redemption?

 

Regarding life after death,

When does this life truly begin?

And, will there never ever be

Complete riddance of sin? 

 

I am still puzzled

But not unduly disturbed

For there is still much that I glean

From God’s Holy Word.

 

In the 1^st chapter of John

And in the third also,

A wonderful truth has been given

And this truth I know.

 

I am a child of God

Having received Him by faith,

Naught of any good I have done,

Only by God’s grace.

 

But as many as receive Him

Not one of them will perish,

For all will have everlasting life

And this I truly relish.

 

 

 

So though puzzled I may be

Concerning its working out,

That God will bring it all to pass

I have absolutely no doubt.

 

Stewart Russell © March 6, 2025

 

Trouble a Brewing

 

 

“Trouble don’t set up like rain”

But sometimes it does

And you don’t have to listen hard

To hear the growing buzz.

 

The buzz in the community

And in the market square,

The buzz right here and beyond

Says it’s drawing near.

 

Can’t you hear the buzz

Or have you turned deaf ear

To all that has been happening

Hoping it won’t appear?

 

 

It may be a single incident

That brings a domino effect

Like in the COVID-19 pandemic

That many still suspect.

 

It may be a string of events

Related and unrelated

Like the criminal activity occurring

And going on unabated.

 

Something huge is imminent

In our little country

And storm clouds are everywhere

If we’re not too blind to see.

 

 

Barbados land of ostriches,

Of sunshine, sea and sand,

Immersed in revelry and jump-up

Where fickleness is grand.

 

To ignore is to make light,

To remain silent, a protest,

And if I do not see it, it is not there,

Is Bajan at its best.

 

 

Oh, we are standing tall

With heads buried in sand

And seemingly lack what it takes

To resuscitate our land.

 

We have moved far away

From what we once held dear

When we’d look to God for help

With reverential fear.

 

Now it is very different

As we do it our own way,

With God left out of the equation

We are bound to stray.

 

 

Trouble is a brewing

Storm clouds everywhere!

Is it nothing to you, my friend?

Doesn’t anyone care?

 

What’s all this deflecting

Trying to confuse me

Rather than deal with the problem

Behind the criminality?

 

How many must die

To fill greedy man pockets?

How many more square pegs

In round hole sockets?

 

Why empower students

And impoverish their teachers

When such is getting us into trouble

Deeper and deeper?

 

 

Are our leaders blind?

Can they not really see

That great trouble is a brewing

For our country?

 

The way around it

Is to return to God

But our leaders call this simplistic

And thus, continue to fall.

 

God offers a parachute

But they prefer a parasol

And with this I must reiterate,

We continue to free fall.

 

Stewart Russell © June 17, 2025

 

Playing Games

 

 

Ever watched a game

Between a lizard and a cat

And realized from the beginning

The lizard was trapped?

 

The lizard gets its freedom

And the cat takes it back

And this goes on for a little while

Controlled by the cat.

 

It happens with mice too

Involving the cat as well,

Must be the cat and mouse game

Of which many tell.

 

 

It is a tragic game

For the lizards and mice

For as we all know so very well

The outcome is not nice.

 

This game ends in death

For the unfortunate prey,

The cat always being the predator

At the end of the day.

 

An application can be made

In relation to life

Where some people treat others

As though they were mice.

 

They become playthings

And then they are discarded

Becoming the scum of the earth

Or at least so regarded.

 

It is a game for some

But it’s death for another

And those in their ivory towers

Don’t have to bother.

 

 

Those with the guns

Terrorize those without

And the people who bring them in

Have great clout.

 

They must have

Or else, explain to me

Why little people are always caught

But no big body.

 

It’s not only with the guns

But with the drugs also

When the prey is taken into custody

And the predators nah show.

 

For a little while

The prey may escape

But at some time sooner or later

Some become the late.

 

 

Freedom is snatched away

And some rot in jail,

That is, if they are not fortunate

To put up the bail.

 

Predator and prey:

This is the deadly game

Perhaps much better understood

By the cat and mouse name.

 

 

The games we play

Are really death for some,

Toying with the poor and vulnerable

For me is not fun.

 

It’s fun for the predator

But death for the vulnerable

And how ever one may look at it

It is fraught with trouble.

 

Stewart Russell © March 11, 2025

 

God Knows Everything

 

 

He was called by his name

Long before he was born

And I can boldly say

He was not the only one.

 

His name was given

Fifty decades before his birth

And he became a great leader

In all the earth.

 

Although he was a pagan king

God used him mightily,

He was only twenty-five

When he won a great victory.

 

He became a world emperor

At the fall of Babylon,

What God says He will do

Must be counted as done.

 

 

He was anointed

By none other than by God

Go to Isaiah chapter 45

And read it in His Word.

 

He was a prototype

Of the Messiah that would come

And I am fairly sure you know

I mean Jesus, God’s Son.

 

God gave him much wealth

And many a conquest

And concerning His people Israel

In him did greatly invest.

 

Isaiah 44:28

 

Said God of this emperor

“He is my shepherd,”

And God Himself added,

“He shall perform all my pleasure.”

 

 

Even saying to Jerusalem

“Your walls shall be built;

And to the temple,

“Thy foundation shall be laid.”

 

 

A prophecy that came to pass

At the time prophesied,

That God knows all things

Cannot truly be denied.

 

God knew this emperor

Long before he was born

And he knows everything about us

Thus, we have been warned.

 

A particular king of Judah

Was named before he was born,

This one was Josiah;

Cyrus was the other one.

 

There were specific prophecies

Relating to their lives

And everyone was fulfilled

As in the biblical archives.

 

God is a promise keeper

And He knows everything,

He is able to declare

The end from the beginning.

 

Stewart Russell © July 2020

 

Fine Ants and Finance

 

 

Fine Ants and Finance

What have they in common?

Or, what have they in contrast

Lest we have forgotten?

 

Well, they sound alike

If only at first

But if pronounced properly.

This must be reversed.

 

One we could do without,

Of one we are in dire need,

They both cost us some trouble;

One very much indeed.

 

 

One befriends the poor

The other is of the rich,

One is needed to deal with one

According to the script.

 

One is often lagging

Especially for the poor

Who are frustrated with the other

Creating many a door.

 

 

So many spots of entry

Besides window and door,

And through the many crevices

Found in any floor.

 

Regarding fine ants,

Such a lack is appreciated

While re the other ‘sound alike’,

On more we are fixated.

 

A little more is the cry

For the wretched poor

While for the filthiest of the rich,

Just a billion more.

 

 

Much there is in contrast,

In common, not a lot,

But having a lot of one of them

Puts us in a good spot.

 

 

Not so with the other

And you know which one,

It’s the one we have the most of

That we wish was gone.

 

Stewart Russell © May 26, 2025