Month: August 2022

sing: ways in which the Holy Spirit talks to us

/ Joy Lenton / Leave a comment

God knows what each one of us is dealing with. He knows our pressures. He knows our conflicts. And He has made a provision for each and every one of them. That provision is Himself in the person of the Holy Spirit, indwelling us and empowering us to respond rightly.” — Kay Arthur

We long to receive comfort, support, guidance and answers to prayer. God has not left us bereft. We have the Holy Spirit indwelling our hearts by faith. His continual presence reassures, leads, guides, teaches and speaks to us in ways we can understand. The prayer/poem below explores some of the ways we can seek His help.

Talk to our hearts 

Sing Spirit—
Sing of the soul’s birth,
it’s rightful place in this world,
sing in whispers, in clouds, and lullabies,
in every tree, plant, person, ocean, and sky.

Sing of secrets
that lie out of reach
concealed far from prying eyes,
covertly hidden in plain sight
but revealed to the faithful and wise.

Bring us messages
direct from heaven,
written in holy script,
which we receive when we read
your wondrous words with humility.

Talk to our hearts,
talk strong, talk soft, talk much, 
as you slowly break apart 
our hardened souls of stone
where you are now enthroned.

We long to hear
a comforting word, an answer
to prayer, guidance and confirmation,
reassurance, hope and encouragement 
to give us courage to start again.

Though we might not
listen hard enough, or even rebel
and go our own way sometimes,
don’t ever give up speaking to us
each and every day of our lives.
© joylenton

“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.” — John 14:26 NIV

waking up: when we hear the inner witness in our spirits

/ Joy Lenton / 7 Comments

“It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.” ― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Waking up

Is it the moment 
when eyelids spring
open or feet hit the floor 
in a slow or swift movement?

Or does the pure act 
of waking up
stem from a signal 
within our hearts?

It is both act and art
to comprehend 
just when 
we fully awaken. 

Our souls might ignite 
with a lucid
holy light, illuminating 
more than our human sight.

Truth speaks soft to us,
a gentle whisper
we can barely hear within,
yet it calls out everything.

All our sadness, all our
joy, our hopes, 
our guilt and our pain are bathed
in a restful wave.

This awakening 
act is heard
inwardly as it speaks to 
the core of who we are.

Not the masks we wear.
Not the ugly
fears. Not the shining image 
we try to present to others.

Instead it echoes 
within our hearts and souls,
right to the very depths 
as it calls us loved and whole.

Yes, it sees it all,
with every wrinkle and stain,
each pain-filled place
wakening now to grace.
© joylenton

“Another reason for right living is this: you know how late it is; time is running out. Wake up, for the coming of the Lord is nearer now than when we first believed.” — Romans 13:11 TLB

fruit picking: revisiting memories of previous summers

/ Joy Lenton / 5 Comments

Rather like the ravenous, darting wasps who seemingly cannot get enough of the windfall apples in the orchard we look out on, I’m a self-confessed fruitaholic who revels in the wider choice and bounty that summer brings to us.

But the best way to appreciate fresh fruit is to either grow your own—says she, happily munching on yummy home-grown greengages from her son’s garden—or to pick your own (pyo) fresh from the field, like I used to do as a girl.

Though I furtively ate a fair share, fruit picking was done mostly in pursuit of extra money in my pocket, to savour the sun and fresh air, and to helpfully keep out of my parent’s way during the long summer holiday. Here’s a glimpse of that experience… 🍓🍒🍐🍏

Fruit picking

I bend to the task before me 
with inky-blue stained fingers 
cradling soft, squishy currants 
with increasing expertise.

My mahogany neck
is a fragile stem, 
crisped by sun’s fierce heat, 
with my hair bleaching 
blonder by the day.

Summer was mostly lived 
outdoors. My sister and I 
could disappear for hours
and venture further 
from home’s confines.

It was a needful breathing 
space in the school year, 
where being yourself 
was easier to bear. 

Stretching like a lazy cat 
warming herself, I smile 
at the heavy weight of fruit 
sat down by my feet. 

A good crop means more 
money in my pocket,
and enough for the full
bus fare home, at least.

Despite the exertion,
it beats potato 
or strawberry picking 
because here I can stand up
to reach the glistening crop.

Wiping beads of sweat 
from my forehead,
I notice how grubby 
my white gypsy top looks, 
smeared with grime 
and smatterings of juice.

Soon I spot someone 
glaring in my direction 
as the line checkers move 
our way. They don't like 
unaccompanied children,

unless they see you working, 
filling baskets instead of 
bellies. I dutifully bow my
head back to the bushes, 

knowing that when I close my 
eyes tonight I will see a vast 
spread of blackcurrants, 
hanging like dark lanterns 
on my closed eyelids.
© joylenton

What childhood summer memories linger in your mind? Can you still savour the sight, sound, taste or smell of them? Do share in the comments below. Xx 🙂 ❤

PS: This poem was created by adapting an excerpt of a post previously shared on my Words of Joy blog and the ACW More Than Writers blog.