Old Tattered Book 8-16-11

It always has been with me.

The Good Book, it is not.

My book is old and tattered,

and its been read a lot.

I'm very much familiar with

this ragged, weathered book -

I'll hide it not from you because,

I know you'll want to look.

My life is like an open book,

and here for all to see.

Interpret every facet there,

or read it differently.

Folks from different walks of life

have formulated ways -

to gather vast opinions and -

to scrutinize my days.

Now you may disagree with them,

or you might fall in line -

with those who do the gossiping,

and group me with the swine.

I see my 'dog-eared' corners,

the grime and stains throughout.

Forget, I would, some pages -

if I could tear them out -

because I'm very much ashamed

of sinful burdens there -

of sins that I cannot forget -

that Jesus had to bear.

And guilt, at times, still haunts me,

and though forgiveness cures,

I'm very glad you've read my book.

Now read a bit of yours.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Matthew 7:3 (NASB)
Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye,

 but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 

Commonality 8-14-11

Everything in this whole world
has one great flaw in common.

Large, small, very light, or

heavier than a ton.

Some are solid, others not,

and some we hear a lot,

some are just a vision,

while others, cold or hot.

Coffee smells, alarm clocks,

computers, highway signs -

family, long vacations -

schedules, meetings, deadlines.

Tell me, what's in common here -

say, what could it be?

Cookie jars to fancy cars,

curved rainbows, scenery...

And there are many other things,

too numerous to list -

scary masks of Halloween,

to pretty morning mists.

Just ponder for a minute

the commonality -

and what effect these things have had

to others, you and me.

Just think for just a minute,

on all these things I list -

and all else you can think of -

and all else that I've missed...

So try, you just might find it -

if not, reread again -

for every thing is common here

for children, women, men.

Now if you have not found it yet,

the answer, if you care -

is that they steal attention and -

take time away from prayer...

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Tender Tears 8-8-11

Be positive and confident,

and joyous all the while -

and you can be a great success

while wearing your great smile.

Success will bring you riches,

such fun, excitement too -

so do not let this world slip by -

revolve it around you.

Oh, there will be some hurting -

a child without his dad -

and though he may shed many tears

don't let him make you sad.

Just keep on smiling broadly,

and remember, others can -

show their deep compassion.

Don't interrupt your plan.

There's way too many people -

and all, you cannot do -

and after all - it's when you smile,

the world will smile with you.

Spread laughter, joy into this world -

put smiles on all the poor -

and if you still feel guilty,

donate a little more.

Ignore the child crying,

ignore her ragged clothes,

ignore the troubles, not your own

for it is how life goes.

Crack a joke on your success,

and brag on all you gave.

Jest and smile and live it up!

Die laughing to the grave...

And then, when you see Jesus,
and your world disappears -
will you get Him to laugh with you
behind His tender tears? 

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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One Not Worthy 8-5-11

If I was Jesus, could I take -

the blame that wasn't my mistake?

If I was Jesus, could I hear -

the name 'Barabbas' in my ear?

If I was Jesus, could I see -

the multitudes surrounding me?

If I was Jesus, could I wear -

a crown of thorns set on my hair?

If I was Jesus, could I feel -

the rugged nails through hand and heel?

If I was Jesus, could I smell -

the stench of sweat and blood that fell?

If I was Jesus, could I taste -

when sour wine on lips was placed?

If I was Jesus, could I give -

could I be strong, could I forgive?

If I was Jesus, could I die -

for one not worthy, such as I?

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Fragile Fog 8-3-11

Dawn breaks clear and breeze begins- leans the many grasses -

rolling knolls, valleys green- moving, it amasses

moisture up from silent pond, a vapor freely born -

confusing fogs of dampness, there's- another one to warn

of world's prideful arrogance, of want and selfish greed -

another one oblivious to warnings he should heed.

Slow and patient hovering, brings truth so plain to see -

but blindness seizes naive hearts and there will seldom be -

changes to the inner soul that lingers ever past -

then fades away, the temperate fog, as time has fleeted fast.

God creates, then man destroys a life, so visible -

but Jesus comes to heal the sick, the body, spiritual.

God gave Jesus for our souls.  He patiently awaits -

while life is like the fragile fog which quickly dissipates.

Earth- or all eternity- two choices we must weigh -
before the fog has lifted and- life vanishes away. 

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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James 4:14 (NASB)
Yet you do not know what your life will be like tomorrow.
You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.

Plant The Seed 7-28-11

Some smoking cigs,
and drinking beer -
or walking streets
in total fear.

Some loving fights,
or reading smut -
some overweight
in gambling rut.

Some driving drunk
and smoking crack -
small screaming kids,
good morals lack.

A land of grace,
in land of sin?
Please let me know
what world I'm in.

Now up-side-down
this world is not -
so say the folks,
who have a lot.

But God still knows
the evil heart -
each evil soul,
that falls apart.

And die, they will,
so 'drunk in rum'.
I wish it not,
but day will come.

And come it will,
when all time stops -
when wrath begins
and ruling drops.

Death eternal.
Life eternal.
God external,
or internal?

So hate the sin
but love the man.
Let's plant the seed.
You know we can!

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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Touched? 7-26-11

When all goes well, you do not call,

you do not whisper prayers at all.

but when you're sick or feeling bad,

I hear a prayer that makes Me sad.

You pray that I should comfort you,

and tell Me all that I should do -

but then when you are well again,

your prayers are empty, hollow, thin.

So where's your trust when you are well?

I need your faith so I can tell -

you're not a fake or hypocrite,

but sincere friend who can commit.

Commit to church, commit to Me,

commit to friends and family.

Until that day, you're torn apart,

torn in two, straight through your heart.

So pray when things are going grand

so I can tell right where you stand.

Not lukewarm, but hot or cold -

for lukewarm souls, I will not hold.

For I so love this world too -

the worst of men, including you.

I will save you from your sin -

but you must first, invite Me in.

So patiently, at your hearts door,

I stand and knock to offer more.

For from this world, you'll soon depart,

so let me touch your broken heart.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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When Jesus Holds 7-16-11

One day, when Jesus holds me tight,

will I forget the past?

Will I forget my every sin,

from first to very last?

One day, when Jesus holds me tight,

will I cry quite awhile -

then be so red and blurry eyed,

I miss His loving smile?

One day, when Jesus holds me tight,

will I forget the pain?

Will I forget my memories that,

keep driving me insane?

One day, when Jesus holds me tight,

will all my sins replay?

Or will He hold me tighter and

wipe all my tears away?

One day, when Jesus holds me tight,

when I'll be loved the most -

will I remember painful past,

as Jesus holds me close?

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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Blessings 7-11-11

God showers me with blessings -
too many to be named.
And He has given me so much -
so much, I am ashamed.

Though I have lost possessions,
(some former wants and needs) -
I'm steered to where I wish not go,
as my Creator leads -
and made to walk in valleys deep,
so great, the length and breadth -
and made to go to distant lengths,
and sometimes near to death.

He showed me all that I had missed
to understand His scene -
and made me walk on water,
and through His pastures green.
But sight? None can imagine -
the view beyond the skies -
to see what can't be understood
with selfish, simple eyes!

His blessings once confused me,
and camouflaged my pride,
and I just couldn't see His love,
'till I set 'me' aside.
Yes, God has showered blessings,
too many to be named -
and He has given me so much -
so much, I am ashamed.

And yet, His greatest blessing,
so many years before -
was that He gave His only Son.
What blessing is worth more??

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Shiny Penny 7-9-11

Reflection caught my lazy eye,

there on the narrow street.

I spied the shiny penny's glint -

right underneath my feet.

Many will not pick one up,

as value is so small -

and they believe it worthless for,

most anything at all.

To pick it up, not worth it -

at least that's what they say.

but oh, my time was not a waste -

was not a waste that day.

Though, there embossed, was Lincoln's face -

the date stamped clearly new -

more engravings marked the back,

proved it a penny too.

But what can a sole penny buy?

Good luck, what can it bring?

What help buys it, the hungry?

What good, the shiny thing?

Its purpose can be measured,

the value, one small cent.

But there had to be more to it.

My patience had been spent.

I found it - just a penny,

so small and very thin.

I thought it, all but worthless,

but then I looked again...

First opening my fingers,

then cleaning off some dust -

I finally found great value with,

the words, "In God We Trust".

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Pencil War 7-4-11

It will erase the phrase it writes,

that's written on a page -

at other times it writes more words...

it's difficult to gauge.

There is a war that's going on,

that's not on land or sea.

A thousand times my pencil flips,

the two just can't agree.

The selfish lead, the soft eraser -

the two can't get along.

They both appear so far apart.

Each thinks the other wrong.

Their battles seem to linger on -

Confusion wills to grow.

This poem is of truth and love.

Conclusions, can we know?

Am I just like my pencil,

that I take off the shelf -

fumbling between my fingers,

at war within myself?

Am I just like my pencil,

in incoherent bind?

Does warring begin or finish,

within my mixed-up mind?

Seek I, the left, or to my right -

or back, or simply stop?

My mind runs in full circles as

the pencil fights nonstop.

The truth still lives - the answer, one,

to settle this whole score -

until then I, a traitor am,

inside my pencil war.

The truthful words, I'll never find,

or my complete reward -

unless I search the Holy Word

and listen to my Lord.

I compromise my writing,

and it is always blurred -

if I can't lay my pencil down

and understand God's Word.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Erasure 7-4-11

Every day I make mistakes -

they often make me ill -

but my erasure's here atop, my

error driven pencil.

It fixes all my mixed-up thoughts,

and every misspelled word -

and makes more space for other thoughts,

before my words are heard.

My erasure though, lacks power,

to fix my evil side.

It cannot mend my sinful scars -

I know, because I tried.

I frantically attempted -

but then to my dismay,

I watched as my erasure wore

entirely away.

Sin stains our selfish motives,

then guilt comes as a flood,

but erasures cannot help us -

removing sin takes blood.

And Jesus does that best of all.

Erasing takes no skill.

No, we cannot erase our sin -

but Jesus can, and will.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Garden Of Eden 6-26-11

The Garden of Eden, perfect...

Not because the trees there had

so many tasty fruits,

not because the roadways had

the smoothest, shortest routes.

Not because they had new cars,

and pleasure-drove for miles,

not because the malls had sold

the latest fig-leaf styles.

Not because their bank accounts

had endless lines of cash,

not because computers didn't

ever, ever crash.

Not because the stores there gave

them everything for free,

not because the weather was

a constant seventy.

Not because attorneys there

would never, ever sue,

not because the skies there were

a perfect, bluish hue.

Not because the locks on doors

had solid gold keys,

and not because the oceans had

the perfect rolling seas.

Is perfection for our comfort,

that God so amply serves -

or for our reverent, humble prayers

that He so much deserves?

The Garden of Eden - perfect,

but after poor advice,

God had to send His only Son -

our perfect sacrifice.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Poet 6-18-11

A poet writes no poems
despite a great design,

despite the countless hours,

despite the finest line.

Although we pray and meditate,

although the writing's fun,

although we may be gifted,

we can't write even one.

A poem's written long before

a poet lifts his pen -

and sets on paper solemn thoughts

that's given him from Heaven.

For God sends bits of wisdom,

that sprinkle from above -

as He rains down His blessings

and great, eternal love.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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Proverbs 2: 1-10 (NASB)
1 My son, if you will receive my words
And treasure my commandments within you,
2 Make your ear attentive to wisdom,
Incline your heart to understanding;
3 For if you cry for discernment, 

Lift your voice for understanding;
4 If you seek her as silver
And search for her as for hidden treasures;
5 Then you will discern the fear of the LORD
And discover the knowledge of God.
6 For the LORD gives wisdom;
From His mouth come knowledge and understanding.
7 He stores up sound wisdom for the upright;
He is a shield to those who walk in integrity,
8 Guarding the paths of justice,
And He preserves the way of His godly ones.
9 Then you will discern righteousness and justice
And equity and every good course.
10 For wisdom will enter your heart
And knowledge will be pleasant to your soul;

Worst Man In The World? 6-11-11

The worst man in the world?

Now here's a little quiz...

You wonder what he plans all day?

You wonder who he is?

Who next, could be his target,

and What does he derive?

Where could he be living -

and when does he connive?

Full of anger, vengeance,

and filled with evil malice -

he's certainly indignant.

Hate overflows his chalice.

He doesn't speak with 'forked' tongue,

but tongue split into thirds.

Full of pomp, he'll surely be -

as hot air fills his words.

Full of condescension -

with puffed up head of pride.

His shadow marches step in step,

with presidential stride.

His hands do all the devil's work,

his actions chilling, cold.

His heart is hard as granite stone,

which hurts both young and old -

I had given up myself -

my thinking twisted, curled -

it puzzled me, I couldn't find

the worst man in the world...

I sought once more through window,

and thought, "Where could he be" -

but then found him in mirror and,

he said, "It isn't me!".

The worst man in the world?

Well, maybe I am not -

but I'm my own worst enemy -

who God forgives a lot.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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Comfortable? 6-7-11

Was He in comforts of His home

or in a quiet place -

did He have friends supporting Him

or sleeping in disgrace?

Now did He have a multitude,

and did a riot start -

or did He stand in court alone

with still and quiet heart?

Or did He turn His AC on

while in His leather seat -

or was the load too heavy for

His sore and dusty feet?

Did He have mega speakers that

impressed all of His peers -

or did He hear the insults that

had pierced His humble ears?

Oh, did He have His cocktails or

His open soda cans -

or was He holding something else

in torn and painful hands?

New shoes are quite impressive for

the upper-class elite -

or were new shoes not needed with

that nail that pierced His feet?

Did He have vibrant roses, bright,

and crimson sky that warns -

or was the red that streaked His face,

from unforgiving thorns?

Did He receive great pleasures in

all that He could consume -

or was He the great sacrifice

who laid inside a tomb?

The world cannot be bothered with,

these things that sound so grim -

but if we love our comforts so,

we can't give all to Him.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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I SURRENDER ALL

All to Jesus I surrender,
All to Him I freely give;
I will ever love and trust Him,
In His presence daily live.

I surrender all,
I surrender all.
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Humbly at His feet I bow,
Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
Take me, Jesus, take me now.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Make me, Savior, wholly Thine;
Let me feel Thy Holy Spirit,
Truly know that Thou art mine.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Lord, I give myself to Thee;
Fill me with Thy love and power,
Let Thy blessing fall on me.

All to Jesus I surrender,
Now I feel the sacred flame.
Oh, the joy of full salvation!
Glory, glory to His name!

Words by Judson W. Van DeVenter, 1896:

":The song was written while I was conducting a meeting at East

Palestine, Ohio, in the home of George Sebring (founder of the

Sebring Campmeeting Bible Conference in Sebring, Ohio, and later

developer of the town of Sebring, Florida). For some time, I had

struggled between developing my talents in the field of art and going

into full-time evangelistic work. At last the pivotal hour of my life

came, and I surrendered all. A new day was ushered into my life. I

became an evangelist and discovered down deep in my soul a talent

hitherto unknown to me. God had hidden a song in my heart, and

touching a tender chord, He caused me to sing."

I Wonder 6-4-11

Sometimes I wonder how a tree

can stand the way it does -

so crooked, gnarled and twisted.

I wonder what it was...

What made it lean way over -

its shallow roots in mud? 

Or was its last encounter a -

tornado?  lightning?  flood?

Though I am not an expert,

and haven't much, a clue -

I've often looked at people,

and wondered how they grew.

Opinions leaning way too far

with grumpy, creaking sounds -

they're true, 'un-timbered' miracles

with such unbalanced pounds. 

But God still pours out blessings.

His grace forever flows -

and nourishes the lazy root -

no matter how it grows.

Sometimes I wonder how a man

can stand the way he does -

so crooked, gnarled and twisted.

I wonder what it was...

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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It Matters 6-3-11

Who hugs the little children,

abused and all alone -

if no one cares to look for them?

Real, but yet unknown.

Who hugs the hurting mothers,

(for many have been used) -

if no one cares to look for them?

Real, but yet abused.

Who hugs the unborn babies -

discarded in the trash?

Can life be kissed back into them -

or brought back with our cash?

So many different ways, there are -

that powerful abort -

the old, the young, the innocent,

who have their lives cut short.

The weak, the sick, the handicapped,

are also not exempt -

from those who hold lives in their hands,

below their deep contempt.

The rest of us just sit around,

as if we do not care -

but if their target's placed on us?

"Oh no, they wouldn't dare!"

Focused, if we are, on self,

then we will never see -

an end to all the violence and...

more victims there will be.

Decisions have been rendered.

The damage has been done -

though maybe not affecting us,

it matters to each one.

For God so loved the world.
He listens to each prayer.
He knows if talk is just mere words -
or if each we really care.

Please Vote Responsibly!

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Awesome God 6-3-11

Fanny Crosby 1820-1915

I smell the fragrance of the pines

and hear each nature sound.

Something envelopes my thoughts.

Creation's all around.

I sit for several hours but

I can't a sentence write.

Will I be trying hours more,

to write throughout the night?

You'd have to wear some special shoes

to see my unique view -

yet empty are the words I find

explaining God to you.

So try to close your eyes awhile -

in patience.  It's alright.

I'll pray that angels sprinkle words

to help me say this right...

If you could see His miracles

in all I've been forgiven -

if you could also understand the gifts

to me, that He has given -

I wouldn't need to write one word.

His light, you'd finally see -

and understand my awesome God,

though you aren't blind like me.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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Written as I'm reminded of Fanny Crosby (1820-1915), a blind poet who wrote nearly 9,000 poems/hymns such as “Pass me not, O gentle Saviour,” “Sweet hour of prayer,” “Safe in the arms of Jesus,” “All the way my Saviour leads me,” “Jesus is tenderly calling thee home,” “I am thine, O Lord,” “Rescue the perishing,” “Speed away,” “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,” and “Jesus keep me near the Cross"..

Once a Scotch minister remarked to her, “I think it is a great pity that the Master, when He showered so many gifts upon you, did not give you sight.”
She answered: “Do you know that, if at birth I had been able to make one petition to my Creator, it would have been that I should be made blind?”
“Why?” asked the surprised preacher.
 “Because, when I get to heaven, the first face that shall ever gladden my sight will be that of my Saviour.”*

 *Moseley H. Williams, The Sunday School World, (Lesson for Aug. 19, 1900 The man born blind, Applications and Illustrations) pg. 302

Heaven Help Us! 5-31-11

Whether a grown-up, a child, or a teen -

We want to be noticed, we want to be seen.

We buy a new auto, with soft leather seats -

or buy a new wardrobe that nobody beats.. 

But buying top brands at all the best stores -

is just simply futile if showing our drawers.

 Our pants must be pulled up with shirt tucked down in -

and must walk with stature, as dignified men. 

Ingrained are small habits in ways we have found -

to draw the attention of folks all around.

But I am much better than all of the rest.

There's no need to ask me.  I'm simply the best.

And seldom - oh, seldom - so seldom I see -

a person more humble - more humble than me.

I don't spit tobacco, gossip, or 'cuss' -

so please, Heaven help them - to notice Jesus.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http:/www.ganderpoems.org/

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