My Dying Heart

I have loved the Lord in a perfect way,

But my body is so far from heaven,

Fresh experiences and sparkling days,

The secret burdens won't lessen.

Two conflicting hearts beat within my chest,

One longs for spiritual joys and meaning,

The other empty worldliness,

And the church bells still ringing.

I'm looking at a face, and it's mine,

I can't describe the coldness, no heartbeat,

"God rest her soul" is the line,

Bloody water covers me head to feet.

Someone I was has just died,

There wasn't enough room inside,

But to keep me alive I was crucified,

With a lamb on a cross in a river wide.

I'm looking at His face, the agonizing pain,

Etched in the heat of hell and fiery sand,

Two bloody pools like guilty stains,

Drip from the mans outstretched hands.

And all around Him the sea is crying,

Great tears that sting the salty wounds,

Slowly, Gods Son is dying,

 His heartbeat is the only sound.

All the while I feel almost dead,

My bed is in the midst of the sea,

The water climbs above my head,

His right hand holds me.

The heartbeat stops,

I'm gasping for air,

"My God, my God, are you there?"

Suddenly I'm ethereal without care,

Blinded by swift lightnings glare.

A single heartbeat in me grows,

And it longs for the slain lamb,

Who took all my fleshly woes,

Into His great I AM.

Lo the heart that beats within,

Is fashioned after His own,

Paid is my steep debt of sin,

By a Savior on Heavens throne.

Up from the waves we wildly burst,

Resurrected from ashes of deathly night,

Dried up is my well of worldly thirst,

The one who lives is Christ. "

Lauren East

"I delight in the law of God according to the inward man. But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" Romans 7:22-24  

"There are three that bear witness on earth; the Spirit, the water, and the blood; and these three agree as one." 1 John 5:8  

"I have been Crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20  

"If I ascend into heaven, You are there. If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, Even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me." Psalms 139:8-10  

"Do you not know that as many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death?...We were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead to the glory of the Father, even so we should also walk in the newness of life." Romans 6:3-4  

"For if we have been united together in the likeness of His death, certainly we shall also be in the likeness of His resurrection, knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin. For he who has died has been freed from sin." Romans 6:5-7

Poetry by a Christian Prisoner

Here's another Voice of the Martyrs email I found very encouraging! What a beautiful testimony for Christ, to write love poems to Him in prison, while enduring unimaginable sufferings. May God give us the strength to be faithful to the end like this faithful brother, and to overcome our trials in a way which transforms the soul into a perpetual feast of love for our great God and Savior.

Dumitru Bacu was a Christian prisoner during the 1950s and 1960s. Like so many others, his crime was simply being a Christian. Dumitru used his twenty years in prison to compose poetry of love to God. The poems were carefully written in small bars of soap or tapped through the walls in Morse code so that others could learn and pass them from cell to cell.

“The pains which weakened our bodies were not able to master our hearts,” Bacu said after his release. “Instead of hate, we cultivated love, understanding, and wisdom.” Here is one of his poems, composed in solitary confinement in a cell infested with rats, bedbugs, and lice: Jesus appeared in my cell last night; He was tall; he was sad, but oh he was light. The moonbeams I treasured grew suddenly dim As, startled and happy, I looked upon him. He came and he stood by the mat where I tossed And silently showed what his sufferings cost. The scars were all there, in his hands and his feet, And a wound in his side where his heart did beat. He smiled, and was gone. And I fell on the stone And cried out, “Dear Jesus, don’t leave me alone.” Clutching the bars, I was pierced through the palms: Blessed gift, blessed scars.