Heaven's Grace

John 12:1-3

At the Master’s feet she’d sat
Heart opened wide to learn.
As every word poured from His mouth
More of His truth she yearned.

Mary knew the Master’s face, so well -
She’d sojourned with Him far.
But gently now she washed the feet
The nails would so soon mar.

Feet that walked so many miles
Into so many lands
Would soon begin a pilgrimage,
Designed by a Father’s plans.

The lands the Master’d journeyed through
Weren’t solely of earth's trodden clay.
He’d sojourned into hearts of man
And taught them how to pray.

As Mary’d sat there at His feet
Listening fully with her heart
She’d heard the echo of the path He’d trod
Right from the very start.

A voice within her’d wakened
A trembling knowing held her fast
Then pouring out the spikenard
Mary’s washing forever’d last.

The fragrance filled the room that day.
On prayer’s wings it was borne
Straight to the Father’s throne room
Love’s costly gift it would adorn.

Jesus’ princely gift of servant-hood,
In obedience each print laid down,
Mary’s heart had captured
Her hair’d become its footed crown.

And though I may not wash His feet
Or with my hair embrace
My heart can follow servant-hood
Adorned by Heaven’s grace.



© DeAnna L. Brooks
31 December 2004

Come to the Waters

Water! It surrounds us. Sustains us. Life of all forms remains ever dependent on its mercies. We’re composed of its essence, and were it to cease, or be overwhelmed with contaminates, life as we know it would cease to exist.

Maybe that is why it fascinates me so. In the beginning, at the heart of God’s creation, it permeated everything, causing God to separate the waters above from the waters below.

Yet in their separation, they remain ever connected, in a purifying cycle that reflects our own spiritual journey. Or so it seems to me. As varied as the terrains water travels, its destination, its purest form, resides in the heavenlies.

Think on it. Jesus, the eternal Living Water, offers Himself to all who will come to Him. To the thirsty, drinking the Living Water promises they will never know thirst again, unless it be of their own choosing.

To each person longing to be clean, the Living Water purifies, cleansing from the inside out, purifying the heart of any who come. None are turned away.

Those seeking peace and rest discover in the Living Water a quiet, a stillness refreshing the soul with a peace belong to the Water Himself.

So here, on these pages, my heart will come to the Living Water, seeking Him in all that surrounds me, behind and before, regardless of the terrain I journey through.

You are invited to come, too, journeying with me. And while you visit, may you find refreshment in the Living Water for your own thirst.

Eden's Dampened Clay

A breeze wrapped its gentle fingers
About my heart today
And it carried me to that moment
When You first touched Eden’s clay.

With tenderest touch You fashioned
From the earth You had just trod
A man in Your own image
Who touched the face of God!

When Adam’s eyes first opened
And he drank in his first breath
The only thing still absent
Was the world’s first taste of death.

Love hovered as a promise
With that first embrace You shared.
And darkness hadn’t entered
It hadn’t even dared.

The Spirit danced in breezes
That stirred about that day.
His pleasure brushed the treetops
When Adam knelt to pray.

I was born within that moment.
That’s what I was brought to see.
For in Your love of Adam
Is the love You bear for me.

Two hearts were interwoven,
The Potter’s and the clay.
And Adam walked beside You,
He knew no other way.

How did that darkness enter
A kinship so divine
And open up a journey
That would spill Redemption Wine?

That is the very question
The breezes asked of me today.
And that is why they took me
To Eden’s dampened clay.

When Adam touched Your face, Dear God,
And marked it as his own
He turned his back on Your command -
His heart had lost its home.

But the Potter felt that absence.
It tore right through Your heart.
So You carried out the plan You drew
Right from the very start.

There still was hid Your image,
Where the darkness could not touch,
Buried deep within the man
The Potter loved so much.

You drew that clay back to Your side
When Adam would’ve turned away.
And it was there the wine was shed
That first Redemption Day.

The earth’s still moist where blood was spilt.
I stand there now and weep.
Where first it drank from Your own cup
The vow You’d choose to keep.

For when You walked upon the sod
And bent to feel its touch,
You knew there’d be a journey
That would cost You, oh, so much.

For love of me it brought You
To Calvary’s wounded hill
And the cup that Eden started
At last would drink its fill.

A breeze wrapped its gentle fingers
Around this piece of clay
And poured anew Love’s story
And I knelt with You, to pray.

© 5 November 2004
DeAnna Brooks