Even though I am not one of those who really loves this season of the year, I am more like Scrooge than Fezziwig, I appreciate the real meaning of this season: that Jesus became poor to enrich us (II Corinthians 8:9),
that He willingly left the highest station in heaven to become like us: because that was the only way to save us (see Philippians 2:6-8).
May many others be drawn to His light in this season. (John 8:12)

The Christmas Outsider

Christmas doesn’t make me merry;
I’m on the outside, looking in
at dancing lights that
mock the darkness in my soul.
I try to smile and scare away the dogs—
they will not beg from me—
I rub my hands in vain
as frostbite nibbles at my toes.
Another glimpse at tree and hearth inside--
and candles;
I imagine warm spicy scents of cinnamon
and cloves, of bayberry and pine.
But wait—I have been spied!
I turn to run and hide
but He grasps my arm
quite firmly and
ushers me inside.
Inside!
I wait for the others—99—
to kick me out again
but there is no pretense
in their welcome,
"Any friend of Jesus’
is a friend of ours" they say.
So I may stay.
But first,
I take the choicest chunks of bread
and toss them through the door.
"Merry Christmas, all you mutts!" I say.
He loved this mutt
enough to care
and gave me something
I can share.
He was on the inside, looking out.
And so am I.

Lori Fiechter
December 22, 2000

Luke 22:31,32

Lori Fiechter
(see also Romans 8:26)
November 18, 2000

Wash and be Clean

(II Kings 5:13)

Lori Fiechter
November 20, 2000

Prayer for Jerusalem

(Isaiah 49,60 & 62; Psalm 122)

God’s city on earth,
We pray for your peace.
We rejoice when you’re glad;
We weep when you weep.
Yerushalayim,
God has not forgotten you;
Your walls are before Him;
You’re engraved on His palms.
Blessed be all those who bless you,
those who long for the day
when your Redeemer will come,
when your gates are called Praise.
City of peace,
your future is glorious,
You will stand victorious
when these troubles have gone
City of Zion,
We pray for your children;
We pray in the darkness
and hope for the dawn.

Lori Fiechter
October 12, 2000

Long, Lean Soul

(Psalms 106:15)

Lean is healthy;
Fat is not,
Unless we’re speaking
of the soul.
God knows
What’s best for us--
His perfect will.
But we insist
on our own way
and sometimes,
He permits it.
You know the rest.
A soul grown lean and joyless;
Our answered prayer
did not turn out
the way we’d thought.
So sure we were,
we wouldn’t listen;
we were hard-headed
and now we are
lean-souled.

Lori Fiechter
October 2, 2000

Dandelion in the Wind

(Hosea 10:13)

You are a dandelion
in the wind;
Ripe and full,
The fluff has flown
and all that’s left is stem.
You scattered seeds,
but all are weeds;
Now you are old and thin,
regretting what you’ve been:
A carefree, careless dandelion
blowing in the wind.

Lori Fiechter
September 27, 2000

I was watching the finale of a show last spring where the main character was declared clinically dead—or close to it—and ended up in heaven. What a cold, though pretty place it was. It left a very bad taste in my mouth. I knew at once why it didn’t satisfy: because heaven is more than a place, it’s a face.

Heaven is a Face

(II Corinthians 4:16-18)

Heaven grows brighter;
Earth’s shadows retreat.
And nothing seems lovelier
than the things I can’t see.
But I am not dreaming of
streets of pure gold;
Nor longing for a country
where I’ll never grow old.
I’m not tasting clear waters
or skipping through space.
To me, heaven is more than a place;
it’s a face.
Without Jesus,
heaven is no more than a beautiful shell;
lovely, but empty;
It wouldn’t fulfill.
Heaven is wherever
my Savior will be;
Without Him,
there can be
no heaven for me.

Lori Fiechter
October 7, 2000

At the Terminal

(Galatians 4:4; Romans 11:25; Ephesians 1:10)

Waiting impatiently, staring up at the sky,
Clutching my flight schedule firmly in hand;
I look at the numbers, glance at my watch,
and mutter, "When will that plane ever land?"

chorus:
In the fullness of time, God sent His son;
In the fullness of time, He’ll return.
He’ll keep His appointment,
we just need to be ready;
It’s a lesson I can’t seem to learn.

A pilot walks up and sits down beside me;
He seems unperturbed, as if all were OK.
By now, I am jittery, verging on panic,
as I ask him, "Why the delay?"

He says, "There is no delay; the time hasn’t come.
I assure you, the plane isn’t late."
So I shove my flight schedule
right under his nose
as I point to the time and the date.

He looks at me kindly, no rebuke in his eyes;
He just picks up my schedule and simply replies,
"Did you read the small print
at the end of page five?"
I read: "Tentative; unauthorized."

(Repeat chorus):
In the fullness of time, God sent His son;
In the fullness of time, He’ll return.
He’ll keep His appointment,
we just need to be ready;
It’s a lesson I can’t seem to learn.
It’s a lesson that is so hard to learn.

Lori Fiechter
October 7, 2000

Maybe I should stop reading those letters to the editor written by college professors who are biased against God and the Bible. Good thing I have inherited low blood pressure.

Confound the Wise

(Isaiah 29:14-16)

Lord, confound the wisdom
of those who are wise
in their own eyes:
Those who can’t see
beyond their five senses;
Whose faith is in knowledge,
who boast of their insight,
Clothing themselves in their
intellectual pride.
But wisdom that comes without God
is only a colorful blindfold.

Lori Fiechter
September 19, 2000

We have two wild kittens named Weasel and Banana. Their mother was a barn cat; she hid the kittens and didn’t bring them out until they were too old to be easily tamed. My boys can pet them now—if you call stroking their fur as they run away from you "petting". And yet, these kittens know—well, read the poem and find out.

Wild Kittens
(Isaiah 1:3)

Born in a barn
But untamed as
the jungle;
They do not like me;
They will not trust me.
But they know me
as their provider.
They are not so foolish
to believe that
cat chow magically appears
in their dish.
These wild kittens
have sense enough
to know the one
who feeds them.
They know enough to rely
on me daily for their needs.
They have sense enough--
and more humility
than I.

Lori Fiechter
September 8, 2000

There was a great letter to the editor last week called "I'll stand by my beliefs". The letter writer asked,

"Why is it called a 'misconception and an intellectual and psychological problem' because I stand by my own rights to be a conservative? why is it that I am refered to as a 'child in a grown-up body' because I choose tolive the way I believe is morally right for my family and me?"

She writes, "________ calls me fearful because I don't accept certain lifestyles as being moral. I call myself strong for the ability to stand against an immoral lifestyle and still have the courage to accept and love the person behind the behavior."

Here! Here! I applaud Carrie Y. for such a letter. She was the inspiration for this poem.

But Names will Never Hurt Me

I do not agree with you;
Therefore, I am a kook:
A mental midget,
a closet bigot,
a fearful, narrow spook.
But I will not be
cowed by you;
I’m not that far "enlightened";
And you can call me
nasty names
But I will not be frightened.
I will not hide
or step aside;
I’ll not hate
or retaliate;
But I will stand
and not back down;
The cross must come
before the crown.

I was fixing garden potatoes for supper; while I was cutting off the toxic green skin off a few of the tubers, I thought of this:

A Green Potato

Frayed Expectations

I once waited expectantly,
Now I just expect to wait.
I know God’s timing is exact;
Why does it seem He’s late?
How long? has changed to
"How much longer?
Is this the way my faith
grows stronger?
The days and years
roll on and on
And still I wait
And still I long
for answers?
No—much more than that;
I long for Jesus
to come back.

Lori Fiechter
May 18, 2000

Like the Phoenix
(Isaiah 61:3)

Out of something ugly,
Out of something dull and plain;
Out of thorns and jagged wounds
and unrelenting rains;
Out of scars and blemishes,
Out of wrinkles, out of stains;
There can come a lasting beauty,
A diadem of beauty,
a richer, deeper beauty
out of ashes,
out of pain.

Lori Fiechter
May 17, 2000

Failing the Specifics

Love my brother?
Easy—until he has a name.
Don’t look at me like that—
I expect you do the same.
Obey the Lord? Of course--
but, you didn’t mean today?
Content with what I have?
Until He takes it all away.
In general, I am full of faith,
I’m peace-loving and meek;
But I fail in the specifics,
in the day-to-day specifics
When you nail down the specifics,
I’m dishonorably weak.

Façade

Mouthing empty cliches,
Donning painted smiles;
We are rocks of papier-mâché
with only the appearance
of solidity.
We wear the name of Christ
as a mere trademark on a T-shirt.
The skin is Christian
but the heart…

Lori Fiechter
April 22, 2000

After more than twenty years of serving the Lord, I still don’t have a firm grip of what constitutes true worship. And what about service? Are my motives pure? The contemplative Christian scorns the busy worker bee as never seeing the beauty in roses for the nectar. The doers derogate the meditative types as never accomplishing anything because they are always smelling the roses. In the new heaven and new earth, there will be perfect worship (Revelation 4:10,11) as well as perfect service (Rev. 22:3). Until then, I’ll just have to keep pressing on, seeking for balance between the two extremes.

In Spirit and Truth

The practical man says,
"I worship you by my service";
The dreamer,
"I serve you by my worship."
Truth dwells on both sides
and in the middle.
There is a time
for action and
a time for reflection;
A time to wait
and a time to work--
for both the Marys
and the Marthas.

Lori Fiechter
April 22, 2000

Past the Bubble

(James 4:14; I Corinthians 15:55)

Living a mere breath
away from eternity;
Oh, can it really be
ever that close to me?
Is the shield which surrounds me
no more than a bubble?
How much should I
think on that bubble?
Should I live in fear of that bubble?
Yes, Damocles' sword
hangs above us as well;
A mere thread separates us
from heaven or hell;
But I know the One
Who holds me in His hand
And He's on the other side--
He's now on the other side of the bubble.
So I won't live in fear
As long as I'm here
Even though I'm aware
Bubbles don't last forever;
Though it may not seem fair
Bubbles don't last forever;
Yet, there is no more sting
past the bubble.

I'm in the Army Now

The Flavor of Hopelessness

Tasting like bile--vile.
Ruining the present sweetness
with tomorrow's bitter gall.
Of impending, ponderous powerlessness;
the elusive purpose of it all.
Prisoners, we are, of
hopelessness;
seeing no clear end in sight.
Just a foggy, dull uncertainty
of sullen, gray twilight;
A sentence ending in ellipsis
or question mark before the night.

Lori Fiechter
February 22, 2000