poetry

It’s Time

Time, you’re politically conservative,
moving the reverse of NASCAR,
all right hand turns,
and no lefts.
And Time, you’re
bereft
of imagination.
You move
at
a
constant
pace.
You’re stuck in a rut.
Now think, Time, if you were freed from my clock,
not chained to my night stand as a home for my Ipod dock,
what marvelous change you could make.
Yeah! You could make a break,
pull up stakes
and wave your hands in the face of convention.
Sleep on what I’ve said, Time.
Don’t be alarmed if I wake up before you do tomorrow.

© Joel Tipple
330

For Your Favor

Let the favor of the Lord
our God be upon us;
And confirm for us the
work of our hands;
Yes, confirm the work of
our hands. Psalm 90:17 NASB

A man may work all his days.
Sweat and blood might cover
all he’s wrought,
but if not for your favor, Lord.
If not for your favor,
If not for your favor, dear Lord,
all is lost.

I may endure all hardship,
and fight through pain
of the body and mind
I may seek and share inspiration
and be praised by those I love,
but if not for your favor, Lord.
If not for your favor,
If not for your favor, dear Lord,
all is lost.

It’s so easy to waste time
chasing what we think
has intrinsic value.
But Your scales weigh what we discount.
When I consider the treasure You allow
a place
in Your storehouse,
I feel a change
begin in me.

Setting aside what consumed our minds
in favor of Your wonderful design,
We come before You Father
seeking
for Your favor, Lord.
For Your favor.

© Joel Tipple
324

Not of the little g

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God
not of the little g
not only of the easy moments
when my sanity
seems certain

God
not of the little g
not of the times when I measure you
to see
if You’re big enough
to trust

I want to walk
bold confident brazen loud
throwing open the pages of Your holy scripture
You are my God and I trust You
though you slay me

God
not of the little g
not of those years when I turned my back
fervently searching for anything else
easier
than everything for you

God
not of the little g
too big for me to contain
but more than big
enough
to hold me

The earth may shake
winds may blow
floods roar
carrying away
what seems our very foundation
but
God
not of the little g
I don’t doubt your guarantee
I won’t try to reduce you
to bargaining

I praise you God
not of the little g

© Joel Tipple
323

Sharp Things

There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.
Proverbs 12:18 ESV

You shouldn’t trust yourself
with sharp things
like words
that wound
and demean
just because you can be clever
and put them together,
for a moment playing the king.

Words are meant for building
and mending
and to correct,
but in the hands of the disrespectful
they’re bound to maim
and wreck.

A man
or a woman
who learns to weigh their words,
giving the intent behind them honor
like the good Lord taught,
will leave a legacy of wisdom
and better hearts
for the speech they have wrought.

© Joel Tipple
319

Image

Perspective

A flea’s view of the back of a dog.
Some dying moss on the side of a log.
The green tinged roots would look funny on a lass.
Do you think it might be some fountain grass?

© Joel Tipple
314

To the Encouragers

To the encouragers, we celebrate you,
with your words
you change lives.
Salt of the earth, God’s messengers,
Discerning talents with your light.

How many of us would not try,
or try a little and then stop.
Spirits faint, not willing to step out,
for fear of falling.

Cajoling, gently nudging,
You’re the ones who say we can swim.
Somehow we’re able to borrow your courage
and begin
and begin again.

Whatever our best is, you see it before we do,
encouragers, heroes behind the scenes.
You don’t always get the credit,
but we know how much your love in action means.

If you get what you deserve,
you’ll be encouraged too.
Thank you, encouragers.
Thank you.

© Joel Tipple
311

Vessel to Serve

Why did you call
me,
this nondescript vessel?
I’m every-day-ware, with a few chips from use.
How do I dare take a place on your table?
And yet you say I’m beautiful. And you use me.

It’s the same mistake we make every time,
trying to discover our purpose
our way.
But the vessel cannot dictate to the potter.
It doesn’t have the final say.

Let your love pour forth from this vessel.
Help me get out of the way, and let Your Spirit work.
I know this God, You didn’t make your vessel
to store.
You made it to serve.

Here at your table, your everyday vessels,
redeemed and rescued from sin.
We humbly offer ourselves Lord.
however you care to use us,
pray begin, Lord.
Begin.

Let your love pour forth from this vessel.
Help me get out of the way, and let Your Spirit work.
I know this God, You didn’t make your vessel
to store.
You made it to serve.

© Joel Tipple
310

Cursive

A more inappropriate word
I believe I have not found
it just doesn’t bear examining,
like most other words around.

Well…
The word is cursive,
a most contradictory word.
Beautiful writing bound with ugly speaking…
a concept, frankly, I find absurd.

When one pounds one’s thumb with a hammer
elegant lines and flourishes don’t appear.
Instead what falls south from an undisciplined mouth
is more like an eruption from a gassy rear.

Sorry.

I’ll readily admit,
It’s a craft I’ve never mastered.
I mean the writing part,
my handwriting is a disaster.
An artist with a pen I’m not,
though mostly the letters find their right place.
So I decided long ago to not try,
thus saving face.

Now cursing, as a boy,
I recall being quite good at.
At least it was effortless,
especially when I was at bat.
But then after introspection
following a revelation from the Lord,
I turned over a new leaf,
cleaned up my act
and found language I didn’t abhor.

Now I admit the occasional slip,
like the other night when half of my poem disappeared
I did let one rip.
To the cat and dog I apologize.
If I ever pick up that bad habit again,
feel free to claw me down to size.

© Joel Tipple
309

what to write

just between you and me Lord
tonight I don’t know what to write
the cursor blinking teasingly at me
is mocking and a fright
production has ground to a standstill
like the government of late
and it seems I’ve lost the numbers
needed to open the gate
I keep sliding screens across my brain
the way I do with my phone
but it’s so hard to write something worthy
when it seems there’s nothing home
Please help me tomorrow
with some energy in a cup
and a couple extra brain cells
with shoestring synapses to tie them up
For tonight I bid you thanks
for abundant grace and truth
your love for your creation
needs of course no more proof
good night

© Joel Tipple
308

That

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When you see the biggest waterfall
you’ve ever seen, and its size and noise transports you to somewhere amazing…
That.
When you endure discomfort and put forth more effort than you thought you could,
and finish the race, because you said you would…
That.
When the young lady you respect and love says she loves you too
and wants to spend her life with you…
That.
That’s what it is to ask God to please use your gift to make a real impact for Him
and for Him to make that dream come true. It really is
that.

© Joel Tipple
305