what stones leave. a maundy thursday poem.

when the fullness of despair is
resurrected
it’s possible for the whole of creation to
laud and praise
while others linger in the shadowed emptiness
wringing
their hands over the stone which
held
their grief in check now
rolled away and pain
split
wide open. “Freedom!” the masses
exclaim
while others search for it in the cold dank corners of
exposed
tombs where the real
miracle
is that light reaches those desolate places
still

*****

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The good news about secrets.

secrets

 

*****

In my new novel, How Sweet the Sound, the Harlan family knows a lot about secrets. They learn some pretty tough lessons, too, about what happens when sin is allowed to fester and weave its way unchecked through the generations.

Just like in II Samuel 13:20, when folks are told to keep pain to themselves, the innocent and the broken have no choice but to live out their days in the desolation of silence and shame.

Find out how the Harlan family learns to live different, and how the grace of light and the mercy of forgiveness are available for all who seek.

*****

“He shines a spotlight into caves of darkness,
    hauls deepest darkness into the noonday sun.”

Job 12:22 (TMV)

*****

How Sweet the Sound is available wherever fine books are sold, in print and e-readers formats. The best place to buy it is always at your local, independent bookstore. But here’s a few more places you can buy it too:

How Sweet the Sound at Amazon

How Sweet the Sound at LifeWay

How Sweet the Sound at Barnes and Noble

How Sweet the Sound at Books a Million 

How Sweet the Sound at Christian Book Distributors (CBD)

How Sweet the Sound at David C. Cook (Publisher)

How Sweet the Sound at Family Christian Stores

 

 

three cries and a thrill: a poem

dark
shadows spatter across the gray horizon
like hard coal
thrown
against the brown withered winterscape
all the ground groaning for life
but
the nevermore of blackbirds
taunt
until
wait
the red stain on the wing
there
stripes of crimson
fighting against the fickle
season
change
feathered bones pushing heavenward
as if blood surely does redeem
golden light an accent
an afterthought
hope

*****

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