Come and Make it Well

In the summer of 2000 I sat down at the piano and penned a plea for God to “Come and Make it Well.” I had questioned my faith and was ashamed. As I wrote I was reminded of a famous hymn “It Is Well With My Soul”, and the writer’s faith amidst the horrific loss of his children. With my lyrical confession complete, my hands began to play the old hymn in response, then back to an ending of my own, where forgiveness embraces the faint of heart.

Make It Well With My Soul

Come O sting of shame for questioning my faith, the penitence has flown.

Tears of salt must pour on the valley floor, for repentance to swell in my soul.

To think you’d ever find me here, sinking in these wounds of fear,

but you know my frame – O God.

Somewhere near my heart, where you won the war a thousand years ago.

False accusers came and built the walls again, but as if you didn’t know,

Come and make it well with my soul.

Make it well with my soul, make it well with my soul.

Make it well, make it well with my soul.

*Insert verse one and chorus of “It Is Well With My Soul”.

Run forgiveness run, down the drawbridge comes,

for your Spirit to dwell in my soul. ©Cindy Palin/2000

You can read about Horatio Spafford’s story, lyricist of “It Is Well With My Soul”, at

www.sharefaith.com

 

 

 

We Are Almost Home

We didn’t meet by chance. I was in the middle of middle age, hosting a dinner for single parents, and he was in the middle of raising two kids on his own, in search of a break. Through a period of time, of questions and prayers, he chose to believe in Christ.

I always want to do more, but there is a distance between us which prevents a closer relationship. We live in different cities. His children are younger, our children are older. We do get together once and awhile, but once and a while is not enough.

More often than not God brings us together at just the right time, and I am so thankful for that.

We’ve had our talks about church and the importance of surrounding yourself in God’s family for growth and support. It has been painful watching many of my new believer friends struggle to find a place where they feel they belong.

Meanwhile there are those friends who have believed for a long time, and don’t anymore. I guess it is the way I’m wired, but it hurts every time I see someone just give up, or walk away. I’m not angry, but I wonder all the time, pray and ponder about why some dig deeper, and others just quit. Cause it’s not about just quitting on a club, or the gym, it is about quitting on “the friend that sticks closer than a brother” (Prov. 18:24). It is about breaking promises. It is about “forgetting our first love” (Rev. 2:4). It’s about missing out on giving your children the best you can give (Deut. 11:19-21).

I’ve long since stopped accepting excuses. My friend’s life has been very difficult, but life is hard. And no one knows that better than Jesus.

God knows we need each other to run the race of faith together. We can’t do it it without Him, and we can’t do it without one another. Somehow we have got to come together, and isn’t that what church is all about?

 

 

Our friend came to visit this week, and we were delighted to have lunch together. It didn’t take long for me to hear that compromise had come to call. I appreciated his honesty, that way I know how to pray, but I felt a sadness creep over me. I went home and prayed at the piano –

“We Are Almost Home”

It’s not as if we met by accident, God knows when – a heart is ready. I wonder just how many times He’s prayed, hey – to get us where we are today?

I’de be the last one to ridicule your life, but I’ll be the first to sound alarmed. If you forget what He said, and tell Him it’s too hard.

He said, I’ll never leave you or forsake you. No child of mine is left alone. Don’t let the voices confuse you. We are almost home.

The secret’s not about what we can do, that’s the truth – grace is hard to handle. Patience has to be His middle name, hey – He believes that we can change.

You’d be the last to adjudicate my life, but please be the first to take my arm, if I forget what He did, and tell Him it’s too hard.

He said, I’ll never leave you or forsake you. No child of mine is left alone. Don’t let the voices confuse you, we are almost home.

©December 31st, 2015

DON’T GIVE UP – WE ARE ALMOST HOME

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why?

Recently friends of ours have had to go through something no one ever wants to experience. These words (also in song format) are dedicated to their family, and evidence the family of God grieves together. This is my attempt to share their pain, and my intent to join them in asking our Lord – “Why?”.

“Why?”

Cry, wanna cry a river,

wanna weep an ocean.

Even still justice will remain,

hidden beyond heaven’s plain.

Time, could it travel faster,

or should it make a motion –

Yesterday hasn’t yet arrived,

and second thoughts spared us from this plight?

Oh – oh – oh I can hear your loud accusers

Oh – oh – oh blinded by their own peculiar stains

So let the sun refuse to rise!

Let the earth swallow the skies!

Let a mother’s tears run dry!

Oh – oh – oh …………………..why?

©Cindy Palin – November 2nd, 2015

photo made possible by http://www.dreamstime.com

Babylon is Not My Home

I walked past the piano on my way to bed last night, and noticed a layer of dust. I pulled out the bench, clicked on the desk lamp, and sat down.

Prayers for a friend were heavy on my heart. I was reminded how a veil of dust can cover many things in our lives, and I began to write.

Verse One: “The dust had covered my beloved, futile thinking had come, but not for long, not forever, Babylon is not my home.”

I then remembered my journey in my twenties, dating a fellow whom I loved very much, but going about our relationship in a very different way than what God commanded. There was a picture of Jesus in his bedroom, and every time I looked at it I was reminded of my Saviour, and what He did for me on the cross.

Eventually I shook the dust of deception from my spirit, and stopped pretending to be someone I was not. I didn’t belong in that relationship, I belonged to Jesus. My joy would never be full without trusting Jesus, and obeying Him.

Scripture tells us of a time when the Israelites had forgotten God, and went their own way. As a result God exiled them to a foreign country, Babylon. At one point the captors ask the musicians of Israel to sing, and their reply is:

“By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. There on the poplars we hung our harps, for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land? Psalm 137:1-4

My relationship with my boyfriend was like living in a foreign land. I tried to talk to him about my faith, but eventually it drove us further apart.

I wrote verse two: “By the river, I hung my harp up, no more reason to sing, but not for long, not forever, I’m the remnant and He’s my King.”

The bible tells us, “A remnant will return, a remnant of Jacob will return to the Mighty God. A remnant will return; yes, the remnant of Jacob will return to the Mighty God” Isaiah 10:21.

My eyes began to get heavy as I worked on the chorus portion of the song. I couldn’t finish last night, but before I put down my pen and paper, another scripture verse came to mind.

“Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” Hebrews 4:13.

If you have heard the voice of God call you into a relationship of faith in Jesus Christ, and have made a decision to follow Him, then everything you do thereafter will be subject to God’s will for your life. If you are living outside of His will, as the Israelites were, you may feel as though you are in exile. Your joy is hanging on a poplar tree, and you cannot breathe let alone sing, because you are in a foreign land where you do not belong.

God sees you, His love’s relentless, and he desires to see your relationship with Him restored.

When We Choose Love (in memory of Kayla and….)

I was in an uber taxi in Washington D.C. when I heard of Kayla’s death.  I did my best to find a news clip or paper to read about who she was, and how and why she died.

When I got home from our trip of visiting our son, I stayed in my pyjamas all day long and wrote and recorded this song in memory of Kayla (whom I don’t know personally), and all the others who readily give their lives on the battle front, for the innocent.

 

 

When We Choose Love – by Cindy Palin ©February 15th, 2015

Everyone has heard your name, your cruel claims to fame

Can’t hold a candle to, the lights who dare defy you

Headlines used to fuel your fear, intimidation’s here

But when the body dies, love cannot help to shine brighter

I am unafraid to leave this place, at the hands of those who choose to hate

The blood of innocents has seen enough – to know that life is lived when we choose Love.

Underneath the battle cries, something louder comes to life

The power of a prayer, the victory is here

You can draw the border lines, emancipation’s mine

‘Cause when the body dies, love cannot help but shine brighter

I am unafraid to leave this place, at the hands of those who choose to hate

The blood of innocents has seen enough – to know that life is lived when we choose love.

 

 

More Bitter than Sweet

There are days that seem insurmountable because of the pain that surrounds us.  On those days I imagine myself climbing up on God’s lap and leaning my head on his shoulder, and singing something like this newest song of mine.

 

I just want to crawl on your lap, you must be busy

but if there’s anyone who cares, It’s gotta be you.

Life as we know it has turned out to be,

tougher than nails, more bitter than sweet.

 

I appreciate your answers, but I just want your arms.

Wanna hear your heart next to mine.

 

Can I come and rest at your feet?  The world’s gone crazy,

and there’s nothing left that’s fair, except for your truth.

Love as we’ve shown it,  has turned out to be,

colder than steel, more bitter than sweet.

 

More bitter than sweet.

More bitter than sweet.

©Cindy Palin/October 20, 2014

Weak is the Strong

WEAK IS THE STRONG

I pity the child who searches in vain

who strives to be strong

man’s approval to gain

who hangs on his words

her purpose and worth

and builds on his walls

to honor man’s call

 

I pity the child whose body is grown

but mind left behind

man’s bars of control

She built on his praise

so twisted and tough

but we are all grass

and strong’s not enough

 

I pity the child who misunderstood

for weak is the strong

and humility good

to work for approval

annihilates grace

and crushes the spirit

and shadows God’s face.

 

2 Corinthians 12:9,10

copyright Cindy Palin, October 19th, 2014

 

Should We Dare Expect the Joy Without the Sorrow?

Who am I that you are mindful of me?

I’m not the first to see the thirsty scorn your living water.

I’m not the only one, to wrestle or to question,

the mysteries of life, our groanings under heaven….

I just learned a couple of days ago that my song “O Morning Star” is on the shortlist of finalists, in the Word Guild Awards, Write Canada 2014, under the best song lyric category.

This song is very personal, they all are, but this one in particular, because it was written to prepare and equip for an agonizing time, for me, my family, and our church family.

Our daughter had come home for a sick day in November to let us know that a friend of hers had just lost her mother, after a long battle with depression and insomnia.  We were heart-sick, racked with tears and pain, but not without hope.  Our daughter brought her friend home shortly thereafter during a snow storm and we were all able to hunker down by the fireplace and hear the young lady tell us all about her mother.

A friend, and mother whose children were around the same ages as mine, had just been diagnosed with cancer, and aggressive kind.  Her family, and our church family as a whole – were devastated, but not without hope.  She died a week before Christmas, and her funeral was held just days before our Christmas Eve service.  Never has Christmas been so sacred or more meaningful. It was as if she was giving us a special gift, a reminder.  After all, that is why Jesus came to a manger, to identify with our sorrows, and sufferings, and eventually put an end to our eternal death sentence, by dying on the cross, then conquering death on the third day.

I had found out on a snowy Wednesday before Christmas that my brother was not recovering as we had hoped he would, from his stroke and related ailments.  I stood before a judge just five days before Christmas begging the Judge to grant me a warrant to get my brother further help.  The Judge granted the warrant but the Doctors would not comply.  We tried.  Did we fail?  Maybe, but….

Who am I that you are mindful of me?

Should I accept to dare expect, the joy without the sorrow?

You are the Holy One, my peaceful revelation.

The certainty of death is swallowed in salvation.

O Morning Star, you are life and light unto my soul, and still I sing….

©Cindy Palin, October 2013

The interesting and profound revelation is; this song was given to me right before any of the above mentioned, happened. Almost as a foreshadowing of what was to come.  I sang it throughout the months of November and December, as well as at our friend’s funeral, and felt God’s comfort and assurance through the journey.  He is  my Morning Star, and He is light and life unto my soul!

The Fairy Tale – or The Real Deal?

People are looking for love…we turn on the television and we see some semblance of it – but that’s not love at all

People are looking for meaning, we right away think “money”, we see the suits and the office towers – but that’s not meaning

We feel driven to see and experience all we can even if it means missing the truth in front of us, because deep down inside our whole being is not engaged in the truth, we’re not sure we really believe all of it?  Do we really want to look like freaks?

And we miss the profound, the children, the moon, the sun, life, breathing…..need I go on?  We miss it!

I found myself thinking of the crowd on Palm Sunday.  They missed it!  Are we any different from they were?  We rally around our heroes, and for what?  For ourselves, as long as there is something in it for us. So sure we know, but we mostly live on the surface of life, not deep down inside.  There’s plenty of spirituality to go around, but no one really wants to know about Jesus.

They thought they were getting an earthly King, the kind that would put an end to Roman rule and really put their nation on the map!  They sang their hosannahs but their tune quickly changed from adoration to accusation.  Doesn’t that sound like us?

I wrote a song this morning, may it bring us all to a new revelation of how not to miss the King, not today, not tomorrow.  Let us be present, with our eyes open to the spiritual truth, the layer just above the one that hypnotizes us to sleep.  Let us shake off these earthly distractions and look into the eyes of our eternal Savior and King.  Then we can sing Hosannah.

“Hosannah” by Cindy Palin ©March 6, 2014

Everybody wants the Ferris Wheel,

it’s all about the thrill,

Nothing much has changed since we sang – Hosannah

We wanted a King, a vindication

A conqueror strong to rule our nation

So ready to spill our enemies blood

We couldn’t see the Son of God

Everybody craves the fairy tale,

the power and the crown.

The roar of the parade, the charade – Hosannah

He gave us a King, a soul salvation

Heaven came down with invitation

and we took his life, we spilled his blood

we still cannot see the Son of God

Unless we bow, unless we woe

Then we can sing – Ho ….sannah

Hosannah

Hosannah

Amen

Living Vertical in a Horizontal World

Good morning Jesus. It has been an interesting week, holding on tight to your hand and walking with you while you open my eyes and lift my chin gently upwards with the tips of your fingers.  You keep me living vertical.

Windows and doors open all around me, revealing images of this world’s reality, of our perilous soul condition.  Objects of desire are blotting out the Son, blind sheep still wander.  The weight of it wraps around my feet and threatens to keep me horizontal.  The pain of it tries to drown me, but you severed my ball and chain on the cross, and we walked into freedom from the tomb.

Since you joined the Father and left your Spirit here, there’s a lot of seeking going on, but not for you.  Your truth has been traded for brighter lights, bigger toys, man’s temporary fascinations.  As if we can compete with you and your design, your purpose and your plan? Have we forgotten the cycle of history repeating itself?  Our struggles and our triumphs are not original, or the first, or the last, but You are.

You hand crafted our intricate, brilliant minds in your image, kissed our lungs with air and yet some can’t even bring themselves to speak your name.  So much safer and hip to use the buzz words of the day, so non-committal, so plastic intelligence, empty, and most of all – powerless.  But my soul is not downcast.

You delight to say my name and called me before the earth felt the warmth of the sun.  The realization that I even bleep on your radar slays me, that I am so much smaller than the stars, yet matter more to you than the entire universe put together.  I am but a speck of star-dust orbiting around you.  You are a mystery magnet I cannot explain. I am in awe of you and go deeper, past the velvet curtains of your solar systems to the beginning and the end, into your heart.

How do I know you are real?  How do I know there is one God, and that you love me?  How do I know I have nothing to fear when I put my trust in you?  You have proven yourself over and over and over again.  Every living cell bears your seal, every generation has witnessed the majesty of your handiwork.

The closer I come to you, the faster you run to me.  I don’t need to see the exact lines of your face to feel you here beside me.  I am not ashamed, and I will not apologize for believing in a baby born in Bethlehem, born of God and born of man.

As the world grows darker, as the pages of time draw to an earthly close, even though my body may lie down before the trumpet sounds, keep my spirit living vertical.  I love you.