492.
Prayer For Churches
Oh Father God, we pray for all churches
That they withstand all trials & challenges
Oh Lord Jesus, we pray for every church
That they can answer our spiritual search
Oh Holy Spirit, we pray for our house of worship
That they remain as strongholds of Your eternal lordship
This we pray to our One True God. Amen.
-12/25/2015
(Dumarao)
*Prayer Poems for Christmas
Are standing in oppression, standing mind you.' Despite satanic agression, and we are
Having trouble..? With predators of kids, we must wake to, the solution To both attacks, strong prayer and faith we must give, as an offering to God who sees who is weak or strong.' In the way we provide for or fellow humans.' I say the way is neither ( too hard ) nor too long.' Call on the
Lord, get active too..Email create raise an
Eyebrow of two, or even some millons' in
Prayers if you might.? Call on Jesus, its time to address; of both plights.)
the old bones of god
sit on street corners
with their doors unlocked—
not for prayer,
but for the lost electricity
of people trying
to feel something again.
they rent the pews
by the hour now:
yoga mats where knees once bent,
AA circles where confessions
spill easier than psalms,
daycare toys rattling
in the echoes of stained glass.
sometimes a wedding,
two kids promising eternity
under a roof that’s seen
too many broken versions
of forever.
other times it’s silence—
a holy kind—
where only dust believes
in resurrection.
the steeple still watches,
but it doesn’t judge anymore.
it just waits,
the old drunk sentinel,
for someone to stumble in
with a wound
too human for the streets
and too honest
for the bars.
what are churches used for now?
whatever keeps the roof on,
whatever keeps the lights dim,
whatever lets a few souls
sit still long enough
to remember
they’ve got one.
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod,
Churches stand void,whilst taverns brim with glee,
And cry I out for mercy righteous God.
The painted panes grow dim,their light is flawed,
The pulpit soundeth naught but mockery-
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod.
The sacred choir's song is hushed,outlawed,
Their silence bought with coin of blasphemy,
And cry I out for mercy righteous God.
The alehouse glows; each drunkard is applauded,
Each sin doth shine as virtue seemeth be-
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod.
The holy house now dealeth wine unawed,
And maketh crimes to save the its dignity,
And cry I out for mercy,righteous God
Yet still I kneel,though mocked by men flawed,
Lord,breath anew Thy breath in sanctity-
I weep in streets where erst the faithful trod,
And cry I out for mercy,righteous God.
Silence of Churches
The world, this living place, is a boisterous city
Always almost, in the work, after work. All time
Needs rest, relaxing, a nest of peace. No noise
Listening to the hidden life. A peaceful life. Nest
The God. The Nest. His Paradise. His soul. Life
We can arrive there any time. For a break. Time
I found the time. The silence. No time. It’s eternal
Spend time in the church. God’s house and time
My life was saved with time. With the time of God
Thank you, my God. Your nest. Your life. Silence
Thank you for listening to me
Thank you for the compassion
Thank you for the understanding
Thank you for the hidden
And secret opportunities
My
God
What about me?
Asked Master Satan
You
Same
Opposites
One unit
Then?
Asked
Satan
Love
I answered
Sure
Said
God
Way?
Only
Love
Said
God
and
Satan
Beneath the basilica’s patient stone,
where candlelight forgets the sun,
lie shelves of centuries, spine to bone—
and prayers that whisper one by one.
Each parchment bears a living breath,
inked with the trembling hand of trust;
the saints, though sleeping, defy death,
their words outlasting mortal dust.
Fragments of robes, a rosary’s bead,
a crown once worn in quiet pain—
their silence speaks to every need,
their loss becomes the Church’s gain.
The vaults are not of fear or guile,
but sanctuaries time defends;
truth bends beneath the holy aisle,
and rises whole where history ends.
The Spirit moves through shadowed halls,
turning pages none may see;
for God records what never falls—
the light of hidden memory.
So let the scholar’s heart be still,
and pilgrims breathe the sacred air;
the relic, book, and broken quill—
are prayers that are kneeling there.
Rain pouring on pubs
Grey cotton weaving up high
Sprinkling on churches
Churches falling apart
In this breaking many hearts
Judging outside the four walls
Not within that keeps one at stall
We don't need a open door on every corner
But more open within through the transformer
This could be a good thing
For ones to come together and sing
To put Christ first in our life
Not division causing misery and strife
Could we come together with love
The world has enough who shove
To hear one talk of Christ as past
Has not reached out to grasp
We need to see the foolishness of many teaching
God's spirit through Christ is the one to be preaching
To think God how did ones before us make such mess
In your word is the only true peace and rest
The hidden mystery of treasures within
That one can tell the world of your win
We need to have a new awakening
To many lost hearts are breaking
Close to a scandalous ten thousand,
A reproach to the late Reverend Townsend;
All with their advertising megaphones,
And big dreams-nursing microphones …
In my town of domicile
With odds one can’t reconcile
Which I had some time walked miles
With my job-hunting files
That rather handed me victorious counts
Of how their number mounts:
I tell you: A Religious Harassment,
An unendurable embarrassment;
Ten thousand, really a killing figure
For a town wielding not the circumference of Cairo
And herself not lending to vigour
Definable with honest biro …
I still maintain: gong hollowed-out halls,
No Rock Musician would try for his frenzied falls;
A good many of them: a late traveler’s tent,
Whose thanksgivings broadcast Satan’s intent …
Never could be God’s umbrella,
For the catholic Emmanuel and Emmanuella;
Nor altars for demonic exits
From Christ’s patronizing visits …
Christ’s salvation current;
Is unthinkable in rooms of high rent!
In the religion
Of the pigeon
Possessing a feathered pinion
Stands as proof of the opinion
That the pigeon holds dominion
Over all creation
For in the Holy Word
Of this enlightened bird
It is the avian creed,
That not intelligence, but speed
Is the gift that God decreed
For this, His chosen nation.
So in their highest perches
That serve them as their churches
The bird world’s chosen few
Will strut toward their pew
And with bowing neck will coo
In pious adulation.
© Barry Freeman - July 2016
Hotels to relax local and foreign people come
People reaches to pray Churches why bombs?
Where ever it’s bleeding and killings crimes
But at these churches what’s teaches is what prime!
(Following bomb blasts at some Churches in Sri Lanka today)
Its a good trap though
For those who stayed, worshiped God
Those who left, moved on
Gone to churches
Now gone
Pray I God
Your mercy to send
To calm the night
Tremors and
Terrible thoughts
And show the shooters
There is another way
Than at all costs
There are so many false churches, and its hard to say,
which one is true today.
All churches do say,
they are true in everyway.
A church that says Jesus resurrection was spiritual on that day,
then that church is false in everyway.
A church that puts Mary equal to Jesus,(as some do say)
then that church is false in everyway.
A church that says baptism is by sprinkling, (as some do say)
then that church is false in everyway.
A church that says Jesus resurrection was bodily on that day, ( as some do say)
then that church is true today.
A church that puts Jesus above Mary, (as some do say)
then that church is true today.
A church that say baptism is in the name of the Father and The Holy Ghost,
and the body is fully emerged in the water,(as some do say)
Then that church is true in everyway.
STUDY YOUR BIBLE AND YOU WILL FIND WHAT IS TRUE TODAY.
Devils Fill Churches
Say the ones from outside
I, on the other hand find sanctuary
From liberals who tell me how I must think
I only wish peace, good will and a wee bit of gods drink
I open my arms
I hug the entire world
I know there is evil and I know there is good
The paths are many, and I love those who see
Is not the path, but the destination and the destiny
I know I am human
I know I have sinned
I know that we all are made up of same universal cloth
I know, I know nothing, nothing at all
Other than kindness and to love others big or small
Like brothers and sisters together we stand tall
I am humbled when I see the poorest of humanity
Offer me comfort and his only blanket
I may not know what is up there in the stars
I know that kindness is never wrong here or on Mars
I love science and knowledge
I love the diversity of life
Yet some call me evil without ever knowing
The inner beauty in us all, that in the dusk of the evenings
You can see nature’s gifts and the universe still dreaming
Faith you see in not about gods calling
Faith is about the goodness of all of us collectively
Humanity
From sea to see
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