Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

It's Not God's Fault

You’ve heard it said, “Well, that’s the way God made me,” haven’t you?
When the fact of the matter is, that’s very far from true.
If someone’s born with defects, are unattractive or ugly,
That’s the result of the Fall -- sin’s legacy, essentially.

We mustn’t go blaming God, which effectively is what folk do,
When they say, “That’s the way God made me” — a disturbing view.
Any deformity is the work of the devil, or,
Simply the work of humans, for blame can lie at our door.

Satan has always been busy engineering misery,
He’s the proverbial mad scientist of infamy.
And he absolutely loves it when our God gets the blame,
Yes, when people say, “That’s the way God made me” — a false claim.

Hence Christ’s statement, “An enemy has done this” — the devil,
For who else would cause such misery, and in such revel?
Yes, who else would be responsible for thistles and thorns,
But the evil one — the devil — who every good thing scorns.

Yes, he’s an evil genius, far cleverer than man,
Who right from his downfall, trouble and destruction began.
He’s been systematically destroying God’s creation,
And fiendishly enjoying himself since Adam’s abdication.

When Adam sinned, he forfeited his rulership of earth,
A position Satan claimed, ensuring more ill would give birth.
It was he who turned nature into a reign of tooth and claw,
And harmful bacteria, disease and mutation oversaw.

Earth has been his experimental laboratory,
Where both human and creature have suffered so dreadfully.
No, it’s not God who’s at fault, but sadly, Satan and man,
Who via selfishness, alias rebellion, earth’s troubles began.

By Lance Landall

Contemporary Complainers

Seems we’re always looking for some sign — Lord! Please do this or that — as if God’s some magic genie,
We wanting answers as if the world revolves around us, we looking here and there frantically,
When the truth is, God’s given us an adequate brain, a map with instructions which we’re to use,
His Bible our guide, His Spirit empowering, that we might rightly walk, search, speak, ask and choose.

Seems that we’ve forgotten Job, God allowing our afflictions too, and He withholding as well,
So why do we get so upset when we don’t get what we want, and God, somehow try to compel?
Please! Lord, Please! Give me this or that, fix, rid and solve — our problems often due to our own folly,
Yet, we demanding answers — Remember Your promises, Lord! — we on His back repeatedly.

And yes, always looking for some sign, such rare rather than common, God not at our beck and call,
Nor into dazzling displays that holler, “I’ve heard!” — He speaking through His Word and the Spirit’s quiet call.
Yes, He faithful in answering all our prayers, but given our faulty asking, He oft says, “No.”
Which is why we don’t get all that we seek, God not foolish, indulgent, (nor niggardly or slow).

Oh, what’s wrong with us? We moaning and groaning just like that rebellious nation, ancient Israel,
Who as soon as trouble struck, or when they didn’t get their way, would ungratefully murmur and wail.
Yes, don’t like this, don’t want that, we griping our way to Heaven — that conditional promised land —
As Heaven’s not for those who haven’t died to self, something that we quickly need to understand.

By Lance Landall