The brightest light

The Brightest Light

The batteries of my flashlight are empty,
and the wood is too wet to make a fire.
The dry ground became muddy from the rain.
The slippery roads don’t hold my feet.
As the darkness is closing in, I shout,
“Can you hear me?
Can you help me?
Please, safe me”!
With a panic-stricken heart, I try to focus.
“Don’t panic”, I say, “God-child don’t lose your calmth”.
As I bring back the beatings of my heart to a normal pace,
I use my knowledge as my most powerful weapon.
And in the dark silent mud I whisper, “Love”.

The more I whisper the one word I know,
darkness retreats,
driven away by a beam of light.
Following the light to find its source,
the light has made a home in my heart,
where my deeds create the greatest beams,
and my thoughts drive away any kind of evil.

The Voice of Love and Light speaks to me,
“My child, in order to find the light in the darkness,
you only need to look inside your heart,
where I am.
Always present, giving strength, sharing wisdom.
Knowledge is your torch in the darkness,
your heart is the calmth in the rushing storm,
but love is your most powerful weapon,
for love is the brightest light that I can give you”.

The brightest light

 “This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you”.
(John 15:12, the Holy Bible)

Family

Family

Family is not genetic,
but defined by a bond,
that goes deeper than the heart.

 Family is friendship,
where souls connect in dimensions,
invisible for human eyes.

 A love for one another,
that transcends the mind,
as if all thoughts collapse,
and all your worries die.
Where strange is a normality,
weird the basis of your understanding,
and crazy the norm in your reality.

 Love is not a question,
but an answer to trust.
Where truth is a foundation,
a house build on love.
Where love is the beginning and the end,
and our acts the deeds we believe in.

Family is not a word,
No, it is a feeling,
an emotion,
our soul’s desire.
Family is the heart,
where we live and breathe in.

family

You know how much I love You

You know how much I love You

How can I describe my feelings?
How can I describe the contents of my heart?
When I look at You all logics fade,
and my heart pounds like that of an antelope,
who only just escaped a hungry lion.
The world disappears from my sight,
for my eyes can only perceive You –
nothing else matters to me but You.
If only You would know how much I love You!
My heart languishes for You,
in the brief moments when You are not with me,
I cannot exist without You by my side.
Still I know that I am one of many,
still I understand that I have to know my place.
But when You ask me,
if I love You more than others?
Then yes Lord, You know how much I do,
You know how much I love You!

You know how much I love You

“The third time Jesus said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”

John 21: 17

A beacon in the night

A beacon in the night

In a hardened world,
a leopard better hunts alone,
if he wants food before the night falls.

How is it then,
that the leopard dies of hunger,
and the pride of lions eat their meal?

Together is better than alone,
for a multitude of eyes see more,
than one single set alone.

Once rejected,
it is difficult to find your way,
your place back in the pride.
But the victory is for those,
who don’t give up.

Remember that I AM,
always by your side.
I pave the way for the weak,
and I support the crushed in spirit.

Unable to snatch you,
out of my loving hands,
the flowers will never fall,
and the grass will never wither.

My love is your beacon in the night,
a lamp that shines before your feet,
and the embrace that holds you up.

Before the night falls,
the light will remove the darkness,
so that the night will never fall again.

A beacon in the night

 

 

Worship

Worship

Love is a heart on fire,
where passion colors the soul red.
Inextinguishable is the joy,
of a heart that knows how to love.

When Your hands hold me,
I feel safe enough to let my guard down.
Comfortable in my own skin
I play in a pool of  shallow water,
where amusement makes me sing.

Wherever I go,
You are with me.
Wherever I am,
You hold me tight.
Wherever I was,
is simply forgotten –
forgiven is the heart that lives in love.

You are my passion.

You are my anchor in the storm.

Your light guides me home.

Worship is simply a love song.

 

 

 

Under the chuppah

For two nights in a row, I received a vision. The vision showed me a wedding. I was looking through the eyes of the bride. Her face covered with a veil, my sight was through that veil. White chairs on each side, with an aisle in the middle. The wedding took place on a grassland surrounded with trees, as if it was a secluded garden. At the end of the aisle I saw a man in a nice black suit but I couldn’t see his face. I knew he was the groom, because nobody was sitting on the seats and besides us, there was nobody there. The groom was standing underneath a beautiful white chuppah, dressed with white roses. Those same white roses where in a bouquet that I was holding in my hands. The wedding was about to start. And as soon as the image came, it left me.

Today I turned this vision into a poem. Before I started many bible verses came to mind that allowed me to understand the vision better. The bible verse that described the vision best is Isaiah 62:5, which says,

“As a young man marries a young woman, so will your Builder marry you; as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you”.

After this, I looked into the chuppah. In my vision I saw it clearly and I was curious if there was a special meaning to it. During my research I discovered that the chuppah symbolizes so many different things. It was so interesting to read. What stood out to me was the following. The groom enter’s the chuppah first, which symbolises his ownership over the home (the chuppah also symbolises a home) on behalf of the couple. When the bride enters the chuppah, it is as though the groom is proving her with shelter or clothing. With this he publicly demonstrates his new responsibilities towards her.

The reason this stood out to me is because it symbolises our relationship with God so beautifully. When we give our lives/hearts to God, we marry Him in a way. It is as if God is waiting for us under the chuppah and as we (the bride) enter the chuppah, God publicly demonstrates to all living things that He is now responsible for us. It deepens our bond with Him. It connects us to Him on so many different levels. God loves us so much.

I hope this makes any sense to you but if it doesn’t, take the poem as you read it. Let it find a way into your heart and find your own meaning in the words. Because that is the beauty about poetry, it can be read in so many different ways. This is mine and I am so curious….what is yours?

Enjoy the poem (in the picture)

Under the chuppah

Lost is the heart that falls in love

lost is the heart that falls in love

Truth be told, I have never written about love in the sence of being in love. Since I find the subject rather difficult and the subjects ‘Faith’ and ‘Life’ a lot easier, I avoid it all together. But yesterday I made an attempt to put something on paper. So here it is and I need your honest opinion. Please leave one in the comment section below. I love to hear from you!

Adoption

On the Dutch television is a program about adoption. In this program a team searches for the biological family of someone who is adopted. It has been on the TV for many years. I remember watching it as a teenager with my mom and my brother and it is still airing today. It has always been a fascinating show to me. The reunions are often so emotional and it happens so often that the story about why someone has been adopted is slightly different from what the adopted child has been told.

One morning, about two years ago, I sat down to write a poem. As I sat down, images from this television program flashed in front of my eyes like a vision. The poem God gave me that day gave me a completely different view on the adoption process itself. God allowed me to understand adoption from the biological mother’s point of view. Keeping in mind that not all biological mothers feel this, I do believe that the majority does.

So often adoption is only seen from the point of view from the parents who are adopting a child or the adopted child itself, but never from the point of view of that woman who had to give up her child for whatever reason she had. As a child grows in a mother’s womb, the bond between mother and child is already developed. When the child is born the bond is already established. So giving up a child that you are already connected to so deeply is extremely difficult.

One thing, that is very important to mention, is that I have never had children myself, I am not adopted and I have never had any experience with this whatsoever. So there is no way I can know all this. I only know it because God showed me. All the glory is for God alone because this is His work, not mine!

Adoption

The blue ocean slips through my hands,
after it has pierced my soul with love.
Vigorous brown trees give strength,
but they take my tears back to the clouds,
preventing the rain to fall down,
on my fragile empty hands.

For a while we shared a home,
in the hands of Him who gave us life.
The synchronic beatings of the drums,
changed my heart into a vortex,
where negative surroundings are washed away,
changing into positivity and hope,
until reality sets in and our home is destroyed.

Homeless my heart dwells in a valley,
longing for the rain to fall down,
until it washes away the waves of my last breath.
It has slipped through my hands,
smothered by life I am forced to move on,
and my empty hands show my empty heart.

All I wanted to hear was your smile,
but silence is my daily companion.
All I wanted was to see you walk,
but the road only carries me.
All I wanted was to hear, “I love you”,
but the deafening silence chokes me.
All I wanted was for you to grow up,
so I handed you over to be adopted.

 

 

 

Between my fingertips

I honestly do not know why I haven’t told this story yet. Is it the fear that nobody will believe me? Maybe the idea that my story doesn’t matter? Or maybe I really just forgot? I don’t know but a sweet friend from Australia inspired me to write the story.

The story is about something that happened to me about three years ago. It was a night like any other. Nothing in particular happened that day, that could have inspired this. It was a dream that I will never forget. It was the dream where I met Jesus, face to face.

In my dream I didn’t see anything other than Jesus. There were no views or surroundings, it was me and Him. He was standing at a distance looking at me and I wondered by myself, “Why are you always standing at a distance from me?
Suddenly He was gone and for a second, I slightly panicked. But then I felt His presence behind me and He came from behind and stepped next to me. I was sitting down and He was standing. All I could do was to stare at Him. My eyes looked into His and didn’t look anywhere else. My heart almost exploded with love for Him. In His eyes I saw both love and peace, but also worry. A worry I didn’t understand then but I do now. With His hand He softly stroke my head and He let His hand rest on my head. Such love! 

I always have these awkward moments where I do something that I don’t quite understand. Here another classic! As we were staring into each others eyes, I couldn’t say a word. So what did I do? I thought about how uncomfortable His robe looked and wondered if it felt as uncomfortable as it looked! So I reached and held His robe between my fingertips and rubbed the fabric gently. It was surprisingly soft though. Then I looked back into His eyes. Out of all the things I could have done, I never expected myself to do that, but He didn’t Judge me. Not once. He still had the same loving, peaceful, worried but gentle look in His eyes. And His hand was still resting on my head. Then He walked away and I so badly wanted to say something, call after Him, but I couldn’t think of anything. I went silent and woke up.

Meeting Jesus, feeling His touch, His love and being so close to Him was an experience I will never forget and never get used to. Even though  it didn’t go exactly according to plan, my plan that is, it did bring me a lot of peace. I always believed in Jesus but somehow it felt as if I needed this. As if I needed it so see Him and touch Him. Just to feel Him close to me. Ever since that day, or should I say night, I am longing to see Him again. Longing for a moment where I can speak. Where my mouth will for words. I am still longing to feel His love as vivid as I did then. Meeting Jesus makes that you just cannot let go anymore. That is the power He has over people. Once you see Him, you can’t let go!  (For all who are wondering what Jesus looked like. He looked exactly like the paintings ‘Prince of Peace’ and ‘Jesus’ by Akiane Kramarik.)

About this experience I wrote a poem called ‘Between my fingertips’ that I would love to share with you now. Enjoy!

Between my fingertips

 I still feel the soft fabric,
gently between my fingertips.
Your eyes are imprinted in my soul,
how can I ever forget Your gentleness?
Not a word has to be spoken,
our minds are one.
And as the Spirit draws us closer together,
our bond is still the same,
Between You and me,
nothing has changed.

 Your brother love exceeds,
it is a heart without boundaries.
Never will Your anger rain down on me,
or felt in any chamber of Your heart.
Your teachings are my guidelines,
wisdom is planted in my mind,
where it grows out of love for You.
I walk the roads of this world alone,
but in heaven I look out for You.
More are You to me than a Savior,
more than all the Kings of the earth,
more than all my brothers combined.

 I still feel the soft fabric,
gently between my fingertips.
Your brotherly worries unspoken,
Your love speaks louder than any word could.
Not a soul knows our connection,
or the bloodline that keeps us attached.
The memories hold my heart,
when the distance becomes an obstacle.
All I need to know,
when my soul returns home,
that the fabric of Your robe,
is still between my fingertips.