April 26, 2004

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Apostle Paul said, "Run the race in such a way as to win the prize" (1 Corinthians 9:14, NIV). Here are two poems that explore how that is done even when life takes us down tough paths. Both conclude by celebrating God's way of helping us move forward in spite of adversity. —David Bunch

Desperation (A Prose Poem)
By Frank Eubanks

Life ticks the days grow old. I feel a burning down inside of me; my skin is starting to crawl, as time goes. Past memories come to mind as the sun goes down. A time I had of freedom. A crack of lightning points me down my path I see the face of the Ancient One, and He gives me strength. I sigh and breathe as I take a step a flame goes before me showing the snares that are set. I hear a voice of condemnation, I close my eyes and pray and strength comes.

I fall on my knees and travail as a still small voice is telling me to prevail. Tears swell my eyes as time ticks I feel my heart beat. I stand and run as the flame lights my way. I keep my face to the Ancient. Who bled for me Love fills me, joy overwhelms me, and patience perfects me. My spirit is filled with thankfulness; I will run this race and keep it with endurance.

ninetyandnine.com

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Frank Eubanks is from Denver. He and his wife enjoy going to church and fellowshipping with other saints. They are also involved in youth ministry and choir. Some day they plan to go back to the Caribbean and enjoy more than a week there.

Still I Press On
By Rebekah A. Ewing

Sweating and panting I press on,
Crunching leaves below my feet.
The silver moon gazes curiously down,
Reflecting off my face.
Around me, all is still and quiet.
I am the driving force in the woods.
I reflect the light in a cold and lonely land.
I urge myself to progress further.
To forget Yesterday,
To press toward the mark,
Toward a higher calling.
Why stop? I am not satisfied.
I will not be satisfied but for one thing.

Though I am weary a force from above
Renews my strength.
It gives me wings as an eagle
To soar beyond all I could ever be.
Into something he has made me to be.

I faint not for in due season
I know I shall reap.
It comes ahead, though I cannot see it.
It is the substance of faith.
Things hoped for evidence of things not seen.

With each new stride
My determination increases.
The wood remains stagnant
It mocks me as I rush past.
I will not stop. The dawn is breaking
I'm gonna make it all the way home.

ninetyandnine.com

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Rebekah A. Ewing wrote this poem for an AP English Literature class.