Day 22: A poem or song you've written.

If you want to hear songs I've written, check out my YouTube channel.

Otherwise, here is a poem I wrote about a year ago.  It's kind of... touchy, and I wrote it during a time in my life when I was pretty frustrated with the church as a whole and with the name Christians have been making for ourselves.  I actually wrote this on a day when I felt like church was becoming less of a fellowship experience and more of a routine (which I see now depends a lot on how I've prepared my own heart beforehand). 

After I've had time to reflect, I don't know if I agree with everything I said in this poem, but I do agree with several parts of it.  I am pretty sure I've never posted it on this blog and I figured it could go with my last post.  Here goes.

Handshakes

When I walk into the church,

The lifeless people, empty ears,

All these sheep, bleating, bleating,

I wonder, "Are You here?"

We greet each other: plastic smiles,

Sometimes a brief embrace.

Why can't church be something more

Than meaningless handshakes?

Everyone is pressed and clean

And white and so content.

No one stops to truly see

The heavy price You spent.

Your assembly, God, it often fails,

Where are the seeds we've sown?

We need more than weak handshakes

To see Your children grow.

10-24-1

This is a song I found in one of my notebooks that I brought from home.  I'm not exactly sure when I wrote it, but it's probably around two years old.  I still vaguely remember the tune.

Break Me

My future is unsure. I am blinded.

My heart is faltering. I need guidance.

My plans are all laid out in my weak, human mind.

Why do I not trust Yours, even when I know You're right?

I know You have many plans for me.

What they are, I don't know, but I guess I'll wait and see,

And when I pull away, try to plan my dreams,

Break me, Lord.  Fill my heart

With who You want me to be,

With who You want me to be.

I am trembling.  Life without You

Is harder than I thought.  God, I need You.

I can't believe I ever thought I knew enough.

I need Your love.  I need Your love.

I know You have many plans for me.

What they are, I don't know,

So I guess I'll wait and see.

And when I pull away, try to plan my dreams,

Break me, Lord.  Fill my heart

With who You want me to be,

With who You want me to be.

Take control of my life with Your burning, searing flame.

Renew my love for You so I will never be the same.

Make whole my breaking heart.  Hold me in Your hands.

Form my life.  Form my future.  Place me in Your plans.

I know You have many plans for me.

What they are, I don't know,

So I guess I'll wait and see.

And when I pull away, try to plan my dreams,

Break me, Lord.  Fill my heart

With who You want me to be,

With who You want me to be.

Perspectives

I ache to hear Your whisper,

But my fear shuts You out.

I cannot help but wonder

How all this has come about.

I've wandered and I've waited,

And now I'm feeling tired.

My thoughts are on my troubles

When they should be reaching higher.

I know You hold my every thought.

I am cradled in Your palm.

I try to understand Your plans,

But my perspective is too small.

I'm young. I don't know many things,

But You've known since the start.

So break apart my every fear.

It's You who's won my heart.

Emily Whelchel

8-31-11

I wrote the poem below on a day when I was feeling homesick.  In my life right now, some days I feel independent and I spend time with friends and I can bring myself to see a bright future here in college... and then some days, all I want is to be back at home with my family.  As you read this, don't think I feel so lost and dreary all the time.  No, I enjoy myself most of the time, but sometimes, I can't help but wish I was home.

HOMESICK

Wake up, sleep, walk and walk.

Life and time and breathing.

I think of school and other things,

But mostly just of leaving.

I miss my house. I miss these things.

I'm lonely, sighing, living.

If I could step back into time,

I'd always keep on giving.

I'd hold my daddy's hand again

And dance atop his feet.

I'd hug my mom and kiss my dog,

If we were again to meet.

So here I am, walking, walking.

My heart hangs in the air.

What I would do, what I would give,

To be at home back there.

Emily Whelchel

9-12-11

As a Christian, I'm a minority on-campus at my large state university, Texas A&M.  Recently, I've come to realize the importance of being a light for Christ in every aspect of my life.  People look at me and my actions and think, "That's what Christians are like, so that's what Jesus must be like too."  It's so important to be a witness in everything I do.  Of course I'll mess up sometimes... and I do frequently, but it's so important to try.

Occasionally, I'll come across someone who is unraveling the few positive opinions there are left of Christians.

For example:

There is a young man who I typically call "The Screaming Bible Guy."  I've seen him on campus two or three times in the last few days.  He'll find a busy corner or a group of people gathered together, stand right in the middle or a few feet off to the side... and start screaming.

"REPENT!  REPENT!  TURN FROM YOUR WICKEDNESS OR FACE THE FIRE OF ETERNITY!  DO YOU BELIEVE IN HELL?  DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD'S WRATH?  REPENT BEFORE YOU FIND YOURSELF BURNING FOREVER IN THE PIT OF ETERNAL FLAME...  YOU ARE WICKED!  THE STUDENTS AT A&M ARE WICKED!..." and etc. and etc. and etc.

This guy is a Texas A&M student.  He's young, curly-haired, small-built, and he wears a pair of black glasses.  He doesn't pace when he yells, but instead sways passionately and waves his Bible in the air.  When he screams at everyone, his voice is so loud and carries so far that he almost seems violent.  It's a bit frightening, to be honest.

Once I saw The Screaming Bible Guy standing in the middle of a common area, screaming at everyone around him.  People were moving about a hundred feet away at the very closest in order to pass him to go to classes.  This guy looks vicious when he yells.

The other night, I saw a freshman leadership group having a meeting outside.  This meeting happened to contain a stereo and a bit of dancing (there may have been some inappropriate dancing... I'm not sure.  I'm not a part of this group and I didn't stay to watch).  Probably a mere three or four yards away stood The Screaming Bible Guy, doing his best to yell at them over the music.  Everyone ignored him, but I couldn't help but feel very embarrassed because of what the guy was doing.

Does he actually think he's affecting these students other than causing fear, irritation, and anger against the Christian faith in general?

I admire this guy's passion and zeal, but all he's doing is hurting his witness.  No one will listen to him.  The harshness of his words will only shove people away and cause them to never look back.

The first time I saw The Screaming Bible Guy, I felt a great sorrow.  During my literature class, I scrawled out a quick poem.

LOUD WORDS

Your loud words echo in their ears,

But don't you see? They do not hear.

Harshness doesn't bring true faith.

You speak of fire and not of grace.

I see your heart. I see your zeal.

This truth I know you greatly feel.

However loud your words may be,

They'll pull away. They will not see.

His love matters, not the other,

So THAT'S what you should preach, my brother.

9-19-11

Emily Whelchel

Since then, I re-wrote the poem onto another sheet of paper and included my email address.  And the next time I see The Screaming Bible Guy, I will approach him, hand him the folded up sheet of paper that contains his poem, and say, "I wrote this for you."  If he has anything to tell me after that, he will be able to email me. 

I don't know if he will change his screaming ways after I give him the poem.  But I feel like I need to share with him the truth of what he is doing.  He will win no hearts for the Lord with his anger and loud words.

I haven't seen him on campus for a couple of days now, but when I do, he'll get a poem (and I'll be sure to let you know what happens).

Oh, Africa,

You hold my heart.

Each whisper of wind,

Each pair of fragile hands.

Oh, Africa,

Sing to me in voices

Of hope and pain and joy,

Of beauty.

Of love.

Oh, Africa,

I long to step onto your soil,

Taste your air,

Hear your songs again.

Oh, Africa,

Your smiles surrounded me,

Broke my heart to pieces

And yet made it whole again.

Oh, Africa,

Bring me back to you.

Emily Whelchel

August 25, 2011

This is a poem/song without music I found from an old notebook I used up during my freshman year of high school.  The poem isn't great, but it still made me think, so I thought I would share.  It's about abortion.  It has no title, which is perhaps a good thing.

Please don't hurt me. I've done nothing wrong.

I haven't breathed yet. Please let me live on.

My heart is beating, but you say I am not real.

Ten perfect fingers, yet you claim I cannot feel.

You say I'm no one. I would have been a girl,

But I'm not human. At least not to the world.

I'm just a fetus, and as my mommy cries with shame,

I feel the needle. Kinzy would have been my name.

Here is another poem I found from around the same time period.  It's quite a bit darker than the first one.

Knitted together in my mother's womb,

But the thing is, I wasn't wanted.

Meant to change the world,

But you'll find me in the garbage bin out back.

And it hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Silent child cannot scream,

So I pray you'll hear me later.

At night, you'll hear weeping babies.

Here comes the darkness.

This is a poem I found in one of my old notebooks from my freshman year of high school.  It's a little rough and didn't even have a title until I made one up just now, but some of the lines touched me.  I thought I'd share it here.  (The picture is something I took around the same time period in my life.)

Breaking.

I'm almost back to the place where I wanted to be.

I try to be You, but I still seem like me.

The world's in my ear and my heart's on my sleeve.

I try to be real, like You want me to be.

Jesus, make me like You. Jesus, set me free.

Don't let me fall back into the world.

All I want is to be Your baby girl.

And if breaking apart is what I need,

Do what it takes to truly change me.

Even though I tried with all of my might,

Now I know that I never left Your sight.

By the way, for those of you who have been asking me, "What is college like?", I'm having a Q&A about it on September 10.  If you have any specific questions, you can ask them in the comments or email them to me at jacksfavoriteowner@yahoo.com

P: Poem

O Sleeper

Sleeper, wake; O Sleeper, rise.
Open up your weary eyes.
Apathy is reigning true.
Act or sleep- it's yours to choose.

Sleeper, wake; O Sleeper, rise.
Stand up strong and join the fight
For freedom, truth, and all good things,
The battle for the Mighty King.

Sleeper, wake; O Sleeper rise.
Scream His Name unto the skies.
Spread His Word throughout the numbers.
O Sleeper, break out of your slumber.

8-27-09

Emily Whelchel

This is an old poem.  I based it off of Ephesians 5:14, which says: "Wake up, O sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." 

Apathy is such a huge problem in the church today.  So many Christians aren't crazy for Christ.  They seem like normal people who happen to be Christians.  I say this very bluntly because I tend to become the same way.

We should seem insane to the world, and yet most of us are merely a part of the world.  We sacrifice a close relationship with God for music that has a really, really good beat... or a movie that looks very exciting... or a romantic relationship that simply isn't meant to be.  We sacrifice our witness to avoid weird looks and fit in with the crowd.  And I say "we" because if I'm not careful, I will do the same thing.

We're in the world, but let's not be of the world.

It's time to wake up.

Note: This is the last day to ask any questions for the Q&A day tomorrow, so if you have any more questions, feel free to ask them below or email me at jacksfavoriteowner@yahoo.com. :)

Yes, I'm still doing the alphabet blogging challenge.  But occasionally I'll take a break.  Today is one of those days.  I was looking through the old Facebook notes I wrote and came across this poem.  I forgot I had ever written it. 

We Are.

We are cool, we are calm, we are lifeless.
Candles covered in shadows so dim.
When we sleep, when we're not affected,
We're not telling the world about Him.

We live on, we live life like an empty shell,
Our eyes on right now, on our pasts.
Our purposes, our passions won't be unveiled
Until our sight is on things that will last.

And they walk, and they scream into nothing,
A world of broken, lost hearts.
We say ours are on the verge of erupting,
But they haven't, and they have yet to start.

The earth still has darkness and anger.
Each soul harbors sorrow and shame.
While we let our apathy linger,
This cold world still stays the same.
And who are the ones to blame?

10-22-09

Emily Whelchel

Here is an old poem I found in my window seat of stories and poetry.  I wrote this when I was around seventh grade.  During this time, I was very depressed and had strayed far from God.  You can probably tell.

I lit a candle, wishing that I could see,

Opened my Bible, hoping I could still believe.

'Cause I'm sick and tired of this empty game,

Where love equals loss and life is only pain.

It's a tragedy. Life's filled with misery,

In a world of pain and sorrow.

It's just a tragedy, only a tragedy.

I break my heart in a thousand pieces.

Can You hear me? Show me You love me.

Crumpled pages of a filthy, broken world.

Consequences for those who don't deserve.

The blackest night fills my eyes while I try to pray.

Dirty past, shattered bones, dwelling in worms of shame.

I don't like the rhythm, but I find my bitterness and confusion from this time to be interesting.  I can hardly remember ever feeling this way.  It's amazing to me that I wrote something like this. 

This is not the best poem I've written.  In fact, it's rather poorly written.  I'm not sure why, but I thought I'd share it anyways.

This is an oldie, but I kind of like it.