I dreamed I was in Heaven;

Such eternal bliss;

But one thing was not perfect,

And that thing was this:

I looked across the chasm

At that terrible Lake of Fire;

And suddenly my heart sank

With agonizing desire.

For there I did see

Among the tortured souls in flames,

Friends I'd known on Earth;

And in shock cried out their names.

Why did I not warn them?

Was that truly being a friend?

Afraid they wouldn't like me;

Afraid I would offend.

Not wishing to hurt their feelings;

In fear of friends deserting;

Now in torture they were writhing;

With more than just feelings hurting.

What could I do now?

Now it was too late;

Their eternity was sealed;

A nightmarish fate.

Then suddenly I awoke,

Completely drenched in sweat;

I still had time to tell them;

Their lives were not finished yet.

So if you, like me,

Have unbelieving friends,

Then tell them now and pray for them

Before your friend's life ends.

(written/created by Jeff)

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Posted by Jeff at 3:11 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 10 August 2007 5:18 AM EDT

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The Dreary Foe

 (II Corinthians 10:4-5, Ephesians 6:12)

They march into the window of thought,

Those dreary, dark-clad knights of shadow;

Somber, sullen and grey,

They make their way easily, skillfully,

Into the fortress whereby you interpret reality. 

Like aliens, they march and invade,

Yet are welcomed so easily

And, being strangers, are treated as friends;

They bring destruction, weakness and defeat;

Yet many entertain them regularly. 

They spread gloom and tears,

Black clouds wherein they hide;

They are enemies of your thought-life,

Yet they enter as with a key;

Thieves of the mind, sappers of your strength,

They prey on old and young alike. 

Confusion reigns where these demons dwell;

Like a mosquito seeks for pores,

These seek unhappy circumstances.

Strong to resist, they hold many  captive,

Yet they fall at a single thought.

They flee from joy and happiness,

For these they cannot tolerate. 

Enemies of the soul, they grow in number and strength when fed.

Their generals are famous: 

Depression, despair, doubt, discouragement...to name a few.

They are old as time itself, yet they still plague humanity,

And with ever-increasing popularity,

They are strengthened by our society.

Petty little thieves, whispering in your ear,

They are gladdened by the slumped shoulders,

The hanging head; they rejoice loudly at suicide.

They are our enemies, we must fight them at every turn;

When they sneak in the back door,

We must throw them out the front...

Else happiness evades us. 

(written/created by Jeff) 

Posted by Jeff at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 10 August 2007 5:29 AM EDT

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The bells of Hell

Are no melodic sound;

Here the tortured cries

Of screaming souls abound.

Horrid shrieks, pleads for mercy,

Begging for an end;

But no end comes, and not even a single drop of water

Will anyone ever send. 

No, no end comes,

Not now, not ever; but souls burn on;

Death seems to come a second time;

All friends and family are gone. 

Sulphur and Brimstone is your environment;

Gnashing and grinding teeth from excrutiating pain;

Here, reality is terror and terror, reality;

You scream; your thoughts become insane. 

No God listens;

Only loneliness hears;

But flames, a constant companion are;

Never consuming, yet continuously sears. 

No earthly flames are these;

No oxygen do they need,

Nothing will extinguish them;

Any earthly terror, this pain and horror does exceed.

Sin paying for sin,

Never complete will its payment be;

Never more true was it, that all hope is surely lost;

And your family, you will never again see.

(written/created by Jeff)

Posted by Jeff at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 10 August 2007 6:30 AM EDT

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Oh, to be a missionary in a foreign land;

To see souls saved;

Or be a martyr for the Faith

And gain a martyr's crown.

To be on the forefront of the battle

In enemy territory;

This is adventue; this is challenge;

This is living life to its fullest. 

To preach the gospel

Where it has never been preached before;

This is excitement.

To work for God;

To depend upon Him for your resources and necessities;

To know that you are a tool that God is using.

To have the pure joy of seeing someone

Snatched from the flames of Hell---

This is that which makes your own faith

So much more real; so much more alive. 

To live above mere day-by-day existence; 

To go beyond the average;

To step out in faith;

To be more than run-of-the-mill. 

While others are content to sit in their lounge chairs 

And on their sofas watching TV,

You seek high adventure

As only the God of the universe can show you.

While others worry about petty trivialities, you seek souls for eternity;

You have a higher purpose, a higher calling, 

To which watching TV, going to movies, going to parties,

Cannot hold a candle to.

You are part of God's rescue mission team. 

(written/created by Jeff)

Posted by Jeff at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 10 August 2007 5:45 AM EDT

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Sometimes I sit and wonder:  Why do You love one such as I?

I who have been so wicked; I who have not obeyed;

I who, rather than walking close to You,

have so often and so far strayed.

When I'm faced with the choice of obeying

Or going my own way,

I too often follow after pleasure,

Day after day after day.

How can I be so foolish

To forfeit such a prize,

And give up such a blessing

By listening to Satan's lies?

Instant gratification

Is a worm on a sharp hook;

Immediate but short-lived pleasure

Was all the bait it took

To drag me to defeat 

And destroy me with sin,

But, crying out in repentance,

I looked up, and there You were again,

Ready to forgive me,

Stretching out nail-pierced hands,

Across the chasm of my sin,

Your perfect love spans.

Sometimes I sit and wonder:

Why, Lord?  Why do You love one such as I? 

Why did You sacrifice Yourself

And for such a lowly sinner die?

"It's because I love you,"

Would be His compassionate reply.

"For you I left Heaven; for you I tasted death.

That's how much I love you, and that's why I did die." 

Oh, Heavenly Father,

Intimate Lover of my soul,

You sacrificed Your own Son for me;

Therefore You do I extol.

(written/created by Jeff)

Posted by Jeff at 12:01 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 10 August 2007 6:06 AM EDT

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Here comes Peter Cottontail,

To lead you down the road to Hell,

Hippity, hoppity, Easter's on it's way.

Bringing every girl and boy,

Lies that steal away the joy

Of the Truth that Jesus

Rose again that day.

He's got fairy tales for Tommy,

And he'd never tell sister Sue

That Easter is when Jesus

Overcame death for you!  Oh!

Here comes Peter Cottontail,

Covering Truth with a tale,

Hippity, hoppity, Happy Easter Day!

Here comes Peter Cottontail, 

Carrying a deceptive veil;

Look at him hop and listen to him say:

"Try to do the things you should;

Maybe if you're extra good,

God will let you into heaven one day."

You'll wake up on Easter morning

And you'll know that he was there,

When you find those chocolate bunnies,

For Christ you'll no longer care!  Oh!

Here comes Peter Cottontail,

Hopping down the bunny trail,

Hippity, Hoppity, Happy Easter Day! 

(written/created by Jeff)

Posted by Jeff at 3:59 PM EDT

Updated: Wednesday, 8 August 2007 3:35 PM EDT

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(This is a poem I wrote for my goddaughter Susanna for her birthday.) 

If God made flowers

So beautiful and sweet;

If God made mountains

Whose majesty can't be beat;

If God made peacocks

With colors to dazzle the eyes;

If God made rainbows

To paint the skies;

If God, the greatest Artist,

Makes only beautiful things (which is true),

Then God made a wonderful, beautiful

And sweet person, when He made you.

Posted by Jeff at 3:18 AM EDT

Updated: Wednesday, 25 July 2007 4:21 PM EDT

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