Tag: Christian Poetry

Parenting, Poetry

The Prodigal’s Mom

Michelle Lesley 
There’s an empty chair at the table
Where my child once used to sit
When we all broke bread together
A family whole and fit

There’s an empty place in the photo
As his siblings celebrate
Without him again, missing him in
The memories they create

There’s an empty stocking at Christmas
Another year far from home
Joy with tarnished edges
As the wayward one still roams

There’s an empty place in my heart
That longs to be peaceful, content
Praying my child heeds the call of Christ
But fearing he’ll never repent

And so goes the song - it goes on and on -
Of a godly mother’s heart
Life’s full of empty moments
Her prodigal’s sin imparts

Until our knees and hearts are raw
We pray and pray again
A thousand tears we offer up
“How long, O Lord?” and “When?”

And the Father who once welcomed us home 
- For we were His prodigals too -
Says, “Come and rest, and stand the test,
My grace is sufficient for you.”

Poetry, Sanctification, Suffering, Throwback Thursday

Throwback Thursday ~ Crafted Like Christ

Michelle Lesley

Originally published July 2, 2013crafted like christ

“Lord, make me more like Jesus,” I prayed.
“Yes, Beloved. I will,” He smiled.
He began to lay out the tools of His trade,
A sculptor’s tools, for shaping His child.

“Oh no, Lord, not those,” I gently whined,
As chisel and mallet He took in hand,
“Use instruments of a softer kind,
To help me walk as faith demands.”

“See, over here, the tools I’ve laid,
To gladden my spirit and brighten my eye.
Surely, the velvet cloth of blissful days,
Will change my heart into one like Christ’s.”

“And here,” I went on, “Another I’ve brought,
A feathered brush of comfort and ease,
To keep at bay life’s dust and rot,
This will bring holiness, certainly.”

“At end, I’ve laid a pleasant salve,
Of bountiful health and silver and gold,
Take this, Lord; it’s yours to have,
To make me for the gospel bold.”

“Wish you to remain a stone?”
I heard my Master say,
“My tools are used to chip and hone
What looks not like Christ away.”

“The mallet of trial, the chisel of need,
The grind of suffering,
These in love and grace I wield,
To conform you to the likeness of your King.”

“Your implements will come, in time,
Velvet will dry the tears you weep,
Feathers brush off toil’s grit and grime,
Salve, your deepest pain will ease.”

“This will make me like my Lord?” I groaned in disbelief…
“Do not spurn my tools, my child” my God said, lovingly,
“For Christ was a Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief,
And learned obedience through suffering.”

Poetry, Sanctification, Suffering

Crafted Like Christ

Michelle Lesley

crafted like christ“Lord, make me more like Jesus,” I prayed.
“Yes, Beloved. I will,” He smiled.
He began to lay out the tools of His trade,
A sculptor’s tools, for shaping His child.

“Oh no, Lord, not those,” I gently whined,
As chisel and mallet He took in hand,
“Use instruments of a softer kind,
To help me walk as faith demands.”

“See, over here, the tools I’ve laid,
To gladden my spirit and brighten my eye.
Surely, the velvet cloth of blissful days,
Will change my heart into one like Christ’s.”

“And here,” I went on, “Another I’ve brought,
A feathered brush of comfort and ease,
To keep at bay life’s dust and rot,
This will bring holiness, certainly.”

“At end, I’ve laid a pleasant salve,
Of bountiful health and silver and gold,
Take this, Lord; it’s yours to have,
To make me for the gospel bold.”

“Wish you to remain a stone?”
I heard my Master say,
“My tools are used to chip and hone
What looks not like Christ away.”

“The mallet of trial, the chisel of need,
The grind of suffering,
These in love and grace I wield,
To conform you to the likeness of your King.”

“Your implements will come, in time,
Velvet will dry the tears you weep,
Feathers brush off toil’s grit and grime,
Salve, your deepest pain will ease.”

“This will make me like my Lord?” I groaned in disbelief…
“Do not spurn my tools, my child” my God said, lovingly,
“For Christ was a Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief,
And learned obedience through suffering.”