No Prisoners

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“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord.” Luke 4:18-19 ESV

Love, as God’s gift to us,
is not merely decoration,
and not in league with money,
cares nothing for our station.

Love whispers confidently.
It has no need to be loud.
It radiates confidence
without the bluster of the proud.

When it enters a room
it becomes the natural center.
It is attractive without insisting,
force not being its nature.

Love is always active,
dispersing darkness with its light.
It’s the warmth of a healing fire
when we’re surrounded by the night.

Love mostly eludes definition
giving without being owned.
The food of all good growing,
the harvest of all good grown.

But love defined itself best
as the Son of God on Calvary’s tree,
when instead of taking prisoners
love set the captives free.

© Joel Tipple


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Blessed by the God and Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ, the
Father of mercies and God of all
who comforts us in all our
affliction so that we will be able to
comfort those who are in any affliction
with the comfort with
which we ourselves are comforted
by God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Heavenly Father,
Comfort those in mourning,
whose loved ones’ hearts beat on
in memories joy and pain filled
during lonely nights and dawns.

Comfort minds lost and broken,
those who cannot rest. Bring
them caregivers gentle, angels
heaven sent.

Comfort broken limbs and burned
skin, arms and legs no longer there,
that still send messages of pain,
phantoms in the air.

Comfort First Responders, who see
more than they should, who go when
others stay, who do more than others

Comfort enforcers of law,
the ones who wear the vest,
who put our safety first
while making their arrests.

Comfort the military,
our red line around
the world, the ones who
often run into harms way
with our flag unfurled.

Comfort the healers,
who administer best aid
for our ills small or
grievous, their dedication
never wains.

Comfort for the Pastors,
who count everyone their
flock, whose hearts might
stretch out of their chests
while they point the way
to the walk.

Lord, if we can’t give comfort,
at least let us not add pain.
Let us, like all the other helpers,
be there for those in need
when sorrow rains.