Coming Soon…

The next Desert Abbey will be held soon. If anyone is interested I will be posting details on how you can be involved in the near future… This however, is just a heads up for my long-time readers (who will actually remember what the Desert Abbey is). All will be welcome (as usual) and different viewpoints will be encouraged…


Alone in my Own Camp

I want someone singing
someone singing of you
to reach into my heart and sing its pain
I want someone in the same kingdom
I want a fellow subject
to sing
to sing my pain.

Perhaps if I was better off
if I had been more obedient
then perhaps
perhaps I could feel what I hear
from them now.

But you know I can’t.

Speak to my heart oh Lord
and it will be as you speak.


The storm seems always raging
but maybe I am wrong
perhaps it’s just gone on a while
but not quite reached forever.

The night last night was aching full
pregnant with the pains of life
and in my tears I did not see
the test that He would send.

And after failing I laid down
afraid my deepest fears were true
and wanting answers even more
but scared to even ask.


“Forgive them Lord,
for they know not what they do.”

I think I speak for all of us
When I say
That we wish we could say this of ourselves
more often
we often do
what we do.

And we still do it.

I think we all find it hard
To forgive our enemies
and ourselves.

But without forgiveness
Where would we go?
What would there be left?


Fruit Trees and Dreaming

I once was lost in my own world
But then a hand reached down and grabbed
And now I’m waking to the real
And yes, it’s even worse.

I tried to hide from all the pain
And it did not achieve my goal
And now I’m waking to the real
And nothing feels quite whole.

I read the bible every day
And in the book I see them shout
And they, awake, unto the real
Make their feelings known.

But Abraham seems far away
And Lot so flawed that I can’t help
Thinking he would not care for me
My problems seem so small.

Small problems are what took my heart
And made it numb as it can be
And now I’m waking to the real
And it’s too bright to see.

Evil waits on every page
And God is not afraid
Waking up now to the real
I see He’s set the stage.

Some Days With Our Brothers and Sisters

Hope is a precious thing
And I don’t know where it goes
When your child dies.

Every day someone dies.

Everyone is someone’s child.

And sometimes you outlive your children.

Where does gentle hope reside
When grief in force kicks down your door?
And where do fragile spirits hide
With all this blood upon the floor?

Teach me oh God of Wrath
Where the rain upon the earth will fall
And where the soul that grieves may go
When every hope has fled.