Two Churches Yet One

 

 

 

Only two churches

And these two are one:

The church militant which is now

And those that are gone.

 

The church militant

Is yet here on the earth,

It comprises every born-again believer

Aka of the new birth.

 

Those that are gone on

Are the church triumphant

Who, when they were on earth,

Were the church militant.

 

 

Neither is a dead church;

There is no such church

For the church of the Living Christ

Is a living church.

 

It comprises the born again

Who are infused with new life

That cannot ever be terminated

By this earthly strife.

 

The body will die

But the spirit will live on

As inferred by the Lord Jesus Christ

Regarding them gone.

 

“So that even though one dies

Yet he lives”

Is the assurance of Jesus Christ

That he assuredly gives.

 

Yes, two churches they are

Yet only one:

The saints which are now living

And those already gone.

 

A great crowd of witnesses

And witnesses at present

Summed up in the church triumphant

And the church militant.

 

 

Two churches yet one,

Both witnesses still

And the church militant yet here

Is of the Father’s will.

 

Stewart Russell © April 21, 2025

 

Not in Heaven

 

 

I looked for my wife in heaven,

On earth we had a grand time

But wherever I searched in heaven

I couldn’t find that wife of mine.

 

I remember when she was buried

They told me I would see her again

And at that time, I must confess,

This helped to ease my pain.

 

Searched and searched I did

Yet, I could not find my wife,

I wondered how I would survive up there

Without the joy of my life.

 

 

I looked around for my children:

My precious bundles of joy,

I searched throughout all of heaven

But found neither the girl or boy.

 

I knew I had left them on earth

Since I passed on before them both

But in heaven I could find neither

Yet, I searched from coast to coast.

 

I looked for my mother in heaven

Surely, she would have to be there

But after searching till I stressed

I could find my mother nowhere.

 

My mother was a lovely Christian

I am sure she was born-again,

Tell me, why couldn’t I find her in heaven?

Why must I endure this pain?

 

I searched heaven for my father

O, how I had loved that man!

He was a most upstanding father:

He had to be in heaven’s plan.

 

 

But though I searched and searched

Nowhere in heaven could I see

That loving father of mine,

Where, O where could my father be?

 

My family, my friends on earth,

I longed to see them again

But my diligent search through heaven

Became a search in vain.

 

I was told I would see them,

That this was the Christian hope

And as I had processed their homegoing

This truly helped me to cope.

 

I had looked forward with joy

To see all of the fore mentioned

But nowhere in heaven, I tell you,

Could I find even one of them.

 

I know they could not be in hell

So, maybe they were not really dead

But wherever they were I was sure

Should have been heaven instead.

 

Don’t expect me to say I woke up

And that this was only a dream

But go and study the Bible

And see what from it you can glean.

 

 

There is no marriage in heaven

Other than the Lamb and his bride

So, whatever we are looking forward to

We must let this be a guide.

 

Family and friends will be in heaven

In fact, we all will be family

But concerning all the details,

That will take an eternity.

 

Whatever it will be in heaven,

It will be infinitely better than on earth

So, with that to look forward to,

Let’s be grateful for our new birth.

 

Stewart Russell © June 13, 2021

 

A Christmas Summary

For some Christmas is a bottle

A simple bottle of rum,

As soon as that bottle is empty

Christmas for them is done.

For some Christmas is a rush

A rush to get things done,

A host of things to accomplish

Before Christmas day is come.

For some Christmas is a rest

A rest from their busy ways,

A chance to relax and reflect

During the Christmas holidays. 

  

Then Christmas is new things

For some it is simply that,

They change whatever they can

Then sit back and relax.

For some it is getting together

With friends and family,

Eats, drinks and fun galore

Highlight their festivity.

For children it’s an opportunity

To frolic and to play,

To enjoy their presents and toys

And eat lots on Christmas day.

The outfit for some is primary

Bedecked in the latest fashion,

At church and Queen’s Park

They parade with passion.

The house is a point of interest

Especially for the female,

She runs herself ragged

Trying to catch another sale.

For some Christmas is the lights

On buildings and Christmas trees,

The beauty that's displayed 

Is pleasing to all of these.

The doctors cash in too

But theirs mostly come after

Christmas eating and drinking,

More patients is doctor’s laughter

Merchants too have their share

You don’t have to guess,

The more money leaves our pockets

The more they are impressed.

Christmas for the vagrant

Finds him on his street

And the spirit of Christmas goodwill

Supplies him with lots to eat.

Undertakers, I’m not too sure

How they fit into the mix,

Christmas for them could be

Those patients the doctors didn’t fix.

Christmas for some is that chance

To do what’s otherwise a chore,

It is one of the few times

That they “darken a church door”.

Christmas is that special time

The needy anticipate each year

As organisations reach out to them

With loads of Christmas cheer.

Christmas for the butcher

Could be the death of many pigs

As he supplies the ham and pork

For the various Christmas gigs.

Christmas for a church pastor

Could be a church that’s full,

Compliments of Christmas programmes

Attracting many people.

For some it’s really a bother

Their religion can’t accommodate,

Wedding anniversaries they keep up

But Jesus’ birth they won’t celebrate.

But still there are others

Who’ve experienced the “new birth”,

Christmas reminds of the time

That Jesus came to this earth

The trappings of the season

Still matter to many of these

But above and beyond these frills

Is the acceptance of the “Prince of Peace”.

Stewart Russell © 2015