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WORKING WRECKS

I came upon a wreck
Along the highway of life;
A sick sadistic man
Abusing his helpless wife.

He hadnít learned the scriptures
written long before,
Love your wife as yourself;
Youíll love her more and more.

The next mishap I happened on
Was a kid high on drugs
Who had no one to nurture him
Give guidance and some hugs.

A woman out in sin
With no concern for her own soul;
Hadnít been with Jesus
Or He would have made her whole.

I came upon a marriage, broken,
Overturned along the way;
Instead of love at home
Both had gone out to play.

An aged man and woman
Lives filled with tears;
No one to love and care for them
In lifeís sunset years.

I saw a fallen Hobo
Drunk on cheap red wine;
He hadnít had a meal,
Didnít have a dime.

I fed and clothed the fellow
Told him of God above;
The rest is up to him
May he embrace Godís love.

A little child abandoned
By a mom who didnít care;
I took her to a place of safety
And left her with a prayer.

Someone with broken pride
Gone flat along the way
Punctured deeply by a fickle friend
I patched them up today.

I often dial emergency
Speak each name in prayer
Bring them all to Jesus,
The fallen everywhere.

I work for the Heavenly Highway Patrol
Perusing lives and doing checks,
Directed by my Father;
Iíve been out working wrecks

Joyce Guy
 

RESERVATIONS

Joyce Guy

People seem so nonchalant
About where theyíll be sure to go
When this old world discards its robe,
And begins to wobble to and fro.

When they plan a spring vacation
They make such detailed plans;
Of where theyíll spend a week or more,
Whether mountain heights or ocean sands

Temperatures are all checked out,
Reservations made quite early;
For no one wants to be left out,
And considered blasť or squirrelly.

How is it then that years go by
With not one thought of dying;
No plans are made for eternity
As if Godís Word were lying

What will they do at the Judgement seat
With no one to plead their case
No one to present a victors crown
For the way they ran the race.

Nothing there can justify
Their life all gone to waste
No hope of mercy shown by God
As He turns away His face.

Oh foolish man how can it be
That you lived your worldly life with care;
Yet gave no thought to eternity,
And what God requires up there

He requires a price, which Jesus paid,
When He suffered and died in your stead;
Accept His blood bought sacrifice
And be by His Spirit led.

Go on, make your peace with God
Change your eternal fate
Reserve a home in heaven now
Before it becomes too late.


And we know that   ALL THINGS    work together
for good to them that love the Lord...
 

ALL THINGS

Joyce Guy

All things work together for good
to them that love the Lord,
to those who answer His calling,
according to His Word.

Once in the hands of Jesus
faith is the walk of life;
it causes joy in the sunshine,
and delivers us through all strife.

That means every single thing
that happens to you or me
is part of God's mighty plan
to prepare us for eternity.

Though not conscious of His presence,
we engage the shield of faith,
knowing God has provided
the circumstance, time and place.

Nothing that happens can hurt us;
we know He is there by our side;
for all things work for our good,
to perfect and prepare His bride.
 
 
 

SORE AFFLICTED

Joyce Guy

Tried I've been, and sore afflicted;
Purged to set my spirit free
from the worthless gold and glitter
of a world still courting me.

God must slay the soulish passion,
for the world means naught to me;
Yet my frame so oft embraces
what the Spirit warns me flee.

Useless dross, my very being;
Yet some value caught His eye;
God's Spirit hid among the rubble
would emerge if I could die.

Flay this flesh, old self do sever;
Kill the soulish inner part;
Unveil the Savior ever living
in my redeemed, surrendered heart.
 
 

THE LAUGH OF FAITH

Joyce Guy

The laugh of faith is: victory
while yet in the midst of the storm,
while battles grow fierce, and sharp arrows pierce,
attempting much spiritual harm.

The laugh of faith is: joy
during times of suffering and loss;
it is knowing the Savior looks only with favor,
as you struggle, yet carry your cross.

The laugh of faith is: peace
when the waves flow o'er the boat,
and demons of hell prevent you to bail,
and you know for a fact you can't float.

The laugh of faith is: love
when unlovely people assail,
when, through no fault of your own, you stand alone,
and companions forsake you to fail.

The laugh of faith is: long suffering
when the trials seem never to end;
you are at the end of your rope with no reason to hope,
forsaken by even your friends.

The laugh of faith is: gentleness
with those who torment your soul;
they don't understand God's purpose and plan,
they just threaten, malign and scold.

The laugh of faith is: goodness
when no one is good to you;
others will doubt you, spread gossip about you,
but you let your Savior shine through.

The laugh of faith is: knowing your God
has your life in the palm of His hand,
your trials under control, making you whole;
that your victory is part of His plan.

The laugh of faith is the Spirit of God
reigning and ruling within;
the outcome is sure for He will endure
and on this secret He'll let you in.
 
 
 

TRUST BEYOND ALL REASON

Joyce Guy

Chilling clouds of doom and darkness
often engulf my soul;
problems arise on every hand
over which I have no control.

Why does God not deliver
when I  sink low  in despair?
because I must learn, even in darkness,
my Father is always there.

When I feel alone and forsaken,
and forces of hell assault  my lair,
'tis God who knows and allows it
to bring my shield of faith to bear.

I must trust Him beyond all reason,
no matter the source or cause,
or magnitude of my troubles,
because He says He is close;

That all things work for my good,
they are all under His control.
Yes, I learn to look to my Savior,
for He truly nurtures my soul;

There is no circumstance that perturbs Him,
for He ordained them all,
and they all work to perfect me
before death's last trumpet call.



BOOT CAMP

The Marines take a rude, rough and tumble gal or guy
And teach them how to just obey, not question what or why;
They take a shrinking violet, afraid and often shy,
And train their first response to be both tough and sly.

The school of basic training reduces one and all
To a quaking mass of nerves, insignificant and small.
They push you to the limit, in your face and allÖ
You learn to know the trainerís voice, and answer to his call.

Gradually they achieve a change in the way that you behave;
They see you corresponding to the pathway that they pave.
You change from a ďnew recruitĒ living in a daze,
And become a faithful soldier standing tough and brave.

What is the component that brings the change about?
Youíve learned to hear their whisper and understand their shout.
You let them take your fragile world and turn it inside out;
Theyíve taught you to obey commands, of that there is not doubt.

That is just what Christ does through troubles sent your way;
So you become His soldier, not a child at play.
You respond to His initiative each and every day
Not yield to taunts by satanís hordes to stray along the way.

He will help you stay the rugged course, uplifted by His might.
He will train your spirit and sharpen up your sight.
He makes you, a soldier of His cross, alert both day and night;
So you can follow in His steps with purpose and delight.

His duty is to train you, yours is just obey;
Youíll not have to plan the strategy or seek another way.
Your troubles are your training; so you wonít lose the way
Out on lifeís treacherous battlefield just bow your head and pray.

He responds in a whisper, or circumstance so strong and loud,
That you can receive His message, alone or in a crowd
You are fitted with His armor, so stand up tall and proud;
And when the battles over Heíll receive you in His cloud.

Joyce Guy

After all these years of training are you still a new undisciplined recruit or can you pass muster?




THE PRODIGAL

I am so tired and hungry,
How could I have been so dumb?
As to ask for my inheritance
And take my wealth and run?

I have turned out all my pockets
To see what I could find
No, there is nothing left,
Not even one thin dime.

My wealth has been spent foolishly
On things that have no meaning
On women, drugs and booze
What on earth was I thinking?

These husks the pigs are eating
Are beginning to smell near good
If my stomach could stand it
I would eat this swill for food.

I think I might go home again
And ask my father for a job;
He might not take that kindly,
After all I have been a snob.

His servants have life better
Than I have had of late.
(I rearranged my tattered rags
And headed out the gate.)

After many a weary mile
Walking on swollen feet
My belly calling urgently
Wanting something soon to eat.

I see my father standing
There upon the lawn
As though he is awaiting
His errant son come home.

I guess I should have known
That he would do his part
Though my actions were selfish
His is a fatherís loving heart.

I feel only my own shame
As I see him standing there
His eyes upon the road
And in his heart a prayer.

ďMy son at last returns,
What more could I desireĒ
I see it in his face
It sets my soul on fire.

I donít deserve his blessing
But He has forgiven all
Gives me a welcome hug
And brings me into the hall.

He kills the fatted calf
The one saved for special guests
A ring slips on my finger,
I get the very best.

Father please forgive me,
I must have been insane,
Forgive the awful damage
I have brought upon your name.

Your love has brought me back
Never more to roam
Thank you for your welcome
And all the days to come.

Joyce Guy


NEW POEM  

WORKING WRECKS

I came upon a wreck
Along the highway of life;
A sick sadistic man
Abusing his helpless wife.

He hadnít learned the scriptures
written long before,
Love your wife as yourself;
Youíll love her more and more.

The next mishap I happened on
Was a kid high on drugs
Who had no one to nurture him
Give guidance and some hugs.

A woman out in sin
With no concern for her own soul;
Hadnít been with Jesus
Or He would have made her whole.

I came upon a marriage, broken,
Overturned along the way;
Instead of love at home
Both had gone out to play.

An aged man and woman
Lives filled with tears;
No one to love and care for them
In lifeís sunset years.

I saw a fallen Hobo
Drunk on cheap red wine;
He hadnít had a meal,
Didnít have a dime.

I fed and clothed the fellow
Told him of God above;
The rest is up to him
May he embrace Godís love.

A little child abandoned
By a mom who didnít care;
I took her to a place of safety
And left her with a prayer.

Someone with broken pride
Gone flat along the way
Punctured deeply by a fickle friend
I patched them up today.

I often dial emergency
Speak each name in prayer
Bring them all to Jesus,
The fallen everywhere.

I work for the Heavenly Highway Patrol
Perusing lives and doing checks,
Directed by my Father;
Iíve been out working wrecks

Joyce Guy


NEW POEM

MAKING OF A DIAMOND  

In the furnace of the earth
Lay a black and ugly chunk of coal
Beset by mighty pressure
And intense heat upon its whole.

Intense pressure pushed it upward,
through the mire and mud,
to be touched by Jesus life
and changed by His transforming blood.

No longer black, but clear,
A diamond in the rough
The Holy Spirit took it,
Still opaque and tough;

Marks He made upon it,
According to Godís plan,
As gently He engulfed it
In His skillful hand.

How best to cut and size it
To catch and hold the light
reflecting God the Father
Eíen through the darkest night.

He knew how to set each facet
So it would sparkle most
And reflect the Saviorís image
toward worldly, wicked hosts;

To flash the light of heaven
To send a message clear,
That time is of the essence
And hell is drawing near.

The cutting of the diamond
Causes much grief and pain
But the emerging stone lay silent
Awaiting Godís cut again.

The troubles of the world
Are a worthy blade
To sever self entirely
Where the Spiritís marks are made.

In time it is transformed
By all it has been through
Under tutelage by the Spirit
Unto a stone made anew;

The sparkle cannot come
Without the sear of pain
As conforming cuts are made
Time and time again.

A glistening sparkling diamond shines
Reflecting Godís own fire
To rescue sinners tightly bound
On Satanís hellish pyre.

This bringing to perfection
Lasts throughout your life and mine
Until God calls us home to heaven
Where weíll forever shine.

Joyce Guy
POSTSCRIPT: The chunk of coal pictures a lost person. Coming to Christ the Savior makes him or her an uncut stone. The trials and tribulations of life are the blades which cuts away all that does not reflect Jesus until the sparkle and fire are brilliant enough to witness to Godís love and power. The light of Christ in the life of a Christian is what draws all men to Him through us.


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