Category Archives: poetry

I Saw a Steeple

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“I Saw a Steeple”

I saw a steeple pointing high, lifting my eyes upward.

I felt the pulling of strings inside, calling me homeward.

Inside the doors were welcome sounds, voices full of joy I heard.

And when the Word of God was read, I went forward.

Not a preacher’s hand to shake, or to drop a dollar in a plate,

But in humble, broken, desperation seeking needed consolation

That the upward, homeward consecration wasn’t over.

Assurance was the welcome sound; the Spirit’s Voice I heard.

So from my knees I stood repaired, repented, marching onward.

– Anthony Baker

 

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Filed under Christianity, Church, poetry

I’m Not Shining; I’m Reflecting

because I read another poem about the moon personified…and I’m in between bus routes…

“It’s Not My Light”

I know that  you see me, and you think that I can shine. 

But the light is a reflection, which is why I’m called the “lesser.” The brightness that you see is his, not mine. 

Had the light you see been coming straight from me, perfection would be all the beam would show. 

But here the surface is laid bare before each telescopic stare, made evident each night within the glow. 

I do not shine, I just reflect. 

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Filed under poetry, Uncategorized

Another Day In Court

“I See the Offender”

 

The offender stands within my sight,

Bound with the chains of judicial might.

I cannot reach him – I wouldn’t try,

But it’s crossed my mind – I wouldn’t lie.

 

Forgive me.

 

My little girl so young and sweet!

How can I stay here in my seat?

The rule of law will be my guide;

Within Thy Fortress I will hide.

 

Hold me.

 

Vengeance is not mine, I know;

It’s in Your hand where this will go.

But somehow wrongs will be made right,

If not now, then in Your sight.

 

Avenge me!

by: Anthony Baker

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Filed under abuse, poetry

If You Think It’s Hot Here…

“There’s a Hotter Place”

 

If you think that it is hot here,

Then you might be surprised to know

There’s another place that’s far, far hotter,

A place where you never want to go.

 

Here the summer has certainly parched us.

Here the crops are all failing fast.

But there’s another place where it’s much, much hotter,

And the heat wave lasts and lasts.

 

Here you can find you a bucket

With ice and cold water or beer.

But there’s a place where it’s so much hotter,

People beg for the drop of a tear.

 

Oh, you think it’s so terribly hot here,

You avoid it be staying inside.

But there’s a place where there’s no hiding from it:

The Hell of the lost who have died.

 

by: Anthony C. Baker

 

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Filed under Faith, Future, poetry

Just Mow

“Just Mow”

I have so much to write

But it was to0 long a night.

The stress of it all, all the phone calls

I slept till I saw the light.

 

Yeah, I “saw the light”

I don’t have to write!

This is my blog, I’m not on the clock

There’s nowhere a paycheck to write.

 

So, it’s a beautiful day

The weather is great

I’ll crank the John Deere, put buds in my ear

And just mow all my stresses away.

– Anthony Baker

just mow

 

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Filed under poetry

A Book Title Poem

About the Books

About three years ago I received a rather large addition to my personal library. In addition to the over a thousand books in my office, nineteen banker’s boxes full of books was given to me by a former seminary professor.

This professor of theology, a graduate of New Orleans Baptist Seminary and a contemporary of David Platt, was from Canada. When his work permit in America expired he found himself unable to ship his library back home – the cost was prohibitive. Therefore, he offered them to me to keep and use in his absence. He said, “If I don’t come back in a couple of years, just consider them yours to keep.”

It’s now been three years, and I’m just now starting to unwrap the “gift.” I hope he forgot me.

The Box

FullSizeRender (4)I’ve seen how people have been writing poems by using the titles of books. Linda Kruschke is a good example (click HERE to read her latest poem, My Soul Feels Peace).

So, what I did was open up one of the boxes of books (one of which I’d already written the contents on the lid), reached down inside and pulled out a decent stack, and then arranged the stack into a pyramid…largest book on the bottom, smallest on the top.

The poem that I proceeded to write was based on the titles of the books from top to bottom.

The Poem

The Science Question

The Science of God is the study of God

It’s something we call Theology.

The Apostolic Fathers taught it well,

Setting the standards for what would be.

The science would produce Three Views on Eastern

Orthodoxy and Evangelicalism

But Apologetic Preaching would come along

To combat what we’d come to call pluralism.

What’s True for You, but Not for Me

May give you A New Perspective on Jesus,

But be mindful of The Origin of Christology

And don’t neglect to peruse some Aquinas.

There’s something about The Passionate Intellect

That leads some to question, “Does God Exist?

But the wise understand Creation Out of Nothing

Was breathed by the God of The Ten Commandments.

And now that the Fathers are long past gone

The Cross of Christ is the message they give.

This new generations of scientific theologians

Who preach as they ask, “How Should We Then Live?

 

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Filed under Apologetics, Christian Living, poetry, Theology

Morning Coffee

Morning Coffee

When the morning is young and the air is still cool, 

I drop off the children at the local high school.

From there I proceed to a place down the road and

Stop for some coffee where the arches are golden. 

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Medium in size, no sugar, two cream in, 

The brew of the bean insures I’m not dream’n 

I converse for a moment as I sip my caffeination 

Then resume my duty of pupil transportation. 

The morning brightens, children disembark

I check the seats, head home. Now I’m parked.

Another morning is over and now sitting in the holder

Is a cup less filled, and Phil looks older.

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And the coffee is colder.

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Filed under Food, Humor, poetry

A Poem for Our Youth Pastor

I will paraphrase what our Youth Pastor, Jared Bolstridge – a wise, world-traveling, Dallas Seminary-attending, well-read theologian-in-residence – said to me after our prayer meeting Wednesday night:

“Yes, I read all your posts, but I’m gonna be honest with you…I love ‘ya, brother, but I’m usually wiping the sweat off my face, worrying about what I’m about to read.”

So, since I know he’s going to be reading this, worrying whether or not I am going to slip and say something doctrinally unsound or politically unsavory, I figured I’d write him a poem.

An ‘Ode to Jared Bolstridge

I have a Youth Pastor

A solid staff member

A reader, a preacher, a saint.

He’s a seminary student

A worker who is prudent

But a calloused Senior Pastor he ain’t.

I know he will be reading

The words I now am writing

While blotting nervous sweat from off his brow.

But fear not, dear Youth Pastor

The words that I must plaster

Will n’er give glory to a golden cow.

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Wait…is it OK for a guy to write a poem for another guy? I’m confused. Wait!! If I’m “confused,” then it would be appropriate. But, I’m not that confused!

NOTE TO SELF: For future reference, never write a poem for or to another guy, only about him.

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Filed under General Observations, Humor, ministry, poetry

Her Pain Is Mine

Fibromyalgia

I don’t know what you know about fibromyalgia, but whatever it is, whatever causes it, my wife suffers terribly from it. Over the last several years it has robbed my wife of her ability to enjoy many things in life that we take for granted, like sitting, sleeping, getting dressed, washing one’s hair, or even being hugged.

So many people doubt fibromyalgia is real. They say that if it was a legitimate illness, then there would be clearly identifiable symptoms, specific medications or treatments that would work, and even a Jerry Lewis-like celebrity raising money for research. Unfortunately, the only real constant for my wife is pain, and all that comes with never getting relief.

valeriePutting on a brave face is a daily occurrence. My wife was always the hard worker, the entrepreneur, and the aggravating “early riser” who would wake everyone else in the house with, “Thank you, Lord, for this fine day!” Now, her smile is for the encouragement of others who look to her as a pastor’s wife; but her family knows the truth: she spends much of her time in tears.

We have tried doctor after doctor, from local clinics to Vanderbilt. Tests of every kind have been run, yet all are inconclusive. The only diagnosis is fibromyalgia – and there is no cure. She has her better days, and her really bad days, but rarely are there good days. It would seem that this is a burden which we are destined to bear, that is, until God sees fit to lift it.

After a particular troubling doctor visit today, one who made all kinds of false assumptions and accusations, my dear wife decided she couldn’t handle much more. She wept. That is when I wrote the following poem.

Give Us Strength

I tend to wonder

About what I know

Or at least what I think I know

About pain, about grief

About the reason for no sleep

I tend to wonder

I tend to ask

The usual “whys?”

And I guess I know the “why”

But I doubt at times

When there’s no reason or rhyme

I tend to ask

I know the truth

But I tend to wonder

About the load she’s under

The pain without an end

I ask for answers, even when

I know the Truth

Give me strength

But give her more

Dry her tears; make mine pour

On my shoulders place her sorrow

And for the joy again tomorrow

Give us strength

Pray for Us

I try to be funny on this blog. There are times I get angry, too. But right now I really want to ask all of you who pray to intercede for my wife, Valerie. Pray for her healing. Pray that I will know how to better encourage her. But pray, most of all, that through all that we endure God will receive the glory.

As both of us cry together and wonder why she has to go through this, I am reminded of our Savior who also cried in the garden and said: “Father, if it be your will, let this cup pass from me.” Our prayer is that this will pass.

But, Jesus also said, “Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done.” (Luke 22:42) Whatever tomorrow holds, to God be the glory!

“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9 KJV

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Filed under Christian Living, Christian Maturity, Defining Marriage, Do not judge, Faith, Life Lessons, poetry, Relationships and Family

A Poem for Friday

A few minutes ago, a couple of hours since the sun peeked over the mountains and began its job of drying up the dew, I stopped by A Sojourner’s Voice. There, Robin Lawrimore posted a poem about the morning. That got me to thinking. Maybe I should write one, too.

“It’s Friday”

Eight a.m. waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go down stairs
Hot cup of tea, butter on raisin toast
Plagiarize a song by a girl with Black hair.
 
Got a mid-term that’s due tonight
Seminary’s really try’n to kick my buns.
Still gotta finish a honey-do list
Being out of work is fun, fun, fun!
 
Friday! It’s Friday! Out of work this Friday!
Studying and reading. Gettin’ ready for this Sunday.
Friday, Friday, gettin’ down on Friday.
Need to exercise and take my morning multi-vitamin for men.
 
Wife stayed up for two days straight
Now’s she’s in bed and can’t stay awake
Gotta figure out what’s wrong with her
Don’t know if much more she can take.
 
Daughter wants to ride her bicycle
Wants me to ride mine with her, too
Maybe I should finish this poem right now.
Daddy, pastor, student’s got a lot to do!
 
Friday! It’s Friday! Mail will come this Friday!
Maybe a check’s in the mail that’ll let me tithe a lot this Sunday.
Friday, Friday, gettin’ down on Friday.
Need to pray a lot and take my morning multi-vitamin for men.

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Filed under fitness, Humor, poetry, Relationships and Family, Uncategorized