Poetry From My Life 3
I Set My Face
I set my face to do God's will,
And bravely started out,
Determined that I would fulfill,
My pledge and never doubt.
I ran against the gates of Hell,
Flags flying, sword aflame,
Eager to face each obstacle,
In Jesus' holy name.
The difficulties barred my way,
Yet I, undaunted fought,
Dethroning self and yielding all,
At least that's what I thought.
But fierce, relentless conflict soon,
Left me somewhat distressed,
As pressure from the foe increased,
And greatly 'gainst me pressed.
"This is too much," I cried aloud,
For God to ask of man,
And looking for a place to rest,
I turned my back and ran.
The Lord, in mercy carried me,
Off the field of war,
And set me down to rest and learn,
And help me to mature.
You ran into the battle son,
Before you could prepare,
What you must learn I'll teach you,
If you'll come to me in prayer.
You were impetuous and young,
In spirit matters new,
Before I send you out to fight,
I'll make a man of you.
And for what seemed eternity,
The Lord put me aside,
And dealt with motives, attitudes,
Ability and pride.
He taught me that my confidence,
Must be in him alone,
And many lessons I must learn,
Before his work is done.
Now I have set my face again,
And I confess with joy,
A confidence that rests in him,
Which nothing will destroy.
C R Lord © 1987
The poem above is straight out of my life experience. As a young Christian I was filled with zeal but not much knowledge or experience. I went out into ministry full of assurance and believing that I was ready to battle the devil and all he could throw at me. I found out before long that I was not nearly as ready as I thought, and the Lord took me out of the ministry to teach me some very important lessons that helped me mature.
It is not my surrender Lord,
I know within my heart,
There is no willingness to give,
Even the smallest part.
I have no care for holy things,
Dear self I must preserve,
I only want what's best for me,
More than I could deserve.
Surrender? Oh my flesh cries out,
You ask too much of me,
Won't you accept a certain part?,
I cry out desperately.
Surrender all the Spirit calls,
I can't my soul replies,
And shrinking from my cross I see,
Grief in my Savior's eyes.
I can't, this time with tears I fall,
Hard at the Master's feet,
"The give me your weakness," he replied,
I'll make your surrender sweet.
Then light poured upon me from his face,
His truth filled my heart with peace,
As he took my weak and wavering will,
Surrender was sweet release.
C. R. Lord © 1987