The Prodigal’s Lament is a journey from ruin to return. This is my story. I am 61 and have been saved for 35 years, yet I gave my heart to the Lord as a small boy. As a teenager I walked away from my precious Lord and wandered far, far away and would find myself in pigsty of life, the very bottom of the bottomless pit! I gloriously returned to my Father’s house at the age of 26, and He threw His arms around me and His almighty love and forgiveness ruined me for this life. I wrote this a number of years after my return to the Lord.
It begins in darkness , a soul laid bare, surrounded by loss, silence, and the consequences of wandering far from my Father. But in that place of breaking, a cry arose in my spirit… and everything turns.
Because the story does not end with the prodigal’s return……
It ends with The Father running.
Not rejection, but mercy. Not distance, but restoration. The robe, the ring, the feast — all waiting.
If you know a prodigal, share this with them. And if you are one… the way back is still open.
Expressions of love are the first clear waters that gather at the river’s beginning.
To encounter the Lord is not merely to learn of Him, but to know Him, and to be known in return.
It is in this deep, Spirit-breathed knowing, far beyond thoughts and far above language, that eternal life begins its quiet pulse within the heart.
The heart steps forward, and the mind bows back, and suddenly what we know of His glory is no longer information, but illumination.
Scripture tells us Joseph did not “know” Mary until after Jesus was born. Yet even that sacred intimacy is but a distant shadow of the knowing God invites us into.
There is a depth of communion with Him no earthly union can ever touch.
For it is in the tasting, that one comes to understand what fruit truly is.
Many speak of fruit, many can weigh it, name it, analyze it, fruit “experts,” confident and polished, and yet they have never let the sweetness touch their tongue.
But the psalm still whispers its ancient invitation, “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good.”
Goodness is not a theory. It is an encounter. It is a knowing.
And when the tide of our soul recedes, when insecurities rise like exposed stones and longing aches within us like a deer panting for the brooks, the Lord does not turn away.
He sees the weakness of our frame. He understands the fragile tremble of our flesh.
So we wait, dear saint, not in despair, but in quiet expectancy, for the tide always returns.
His presence always comes again to the seeking heart.
And when it rises once more, we are refreshed, restored, and know again that we are known by the One who called us His own.
When I was seventeen, my first child was born, Stephen. He lived for two days.
Two days—barely enough time to understand love,
but long enough to understand loss. “He is not going to make it.” “His lungs are not developed.” “It might be time to turn off the machine……but it’s your decision.”
Everything around me felt blurred, the world was suddenly condensed and it was pressing in on me, crushing my heart and spirit. “Do you want to hold him.” Inexplicably, and something that would torture me for many years……”No.” I did not want to hold my own dying heart, how utterly selfish.
On the day of the funeral, I sat in the back of the hearse,
a small white coffin resting on my knees.
It felt too light. Too still. Maybe just an empty box….. like my heart.
I was there but I was distant in my mind, none of it seemed real.
He was to be laid in the place reserved for stillborn children,
though he hadn’t been stillborn.
He had lived. He had tried, he had tried hard.
The driver took a corner faster than he meant to,
and the tiny body shifted inside the box.I could “feel,” him move.
That was the moment all the walls I had built
collapsed in a single breath.
I knew what was in the box.
The truth I had been keeping at arm’s length
pressed itself into me with a weight I simply could not carry.
For a long time I carried anger for that driver—
that unnamed man who broke the silence for me
before I was ready.
There are things we bury deep,
not because they are gone,
but because we cannot look at them, cannot handle the weight of it, but is still caries the same weight whether we look at it or not.
Years passed.
I came to the Lord.
Life moved on in the way life does—
slowly, quietly, with its own kind of insistence.
And then one ordinary day,
standing under the warm water of the shower,
the deep finally broke open.
Grief rose from the hidden places
like something long trapped beneath ice—
cold, vast, unstoppable.
My legs buckled.
I held the walls with both hands.
A lifetime was passing through me in moments, years
were flooding out of me, threatening to sweep me away.
My wife heard me and thought I was breaking apart.
Maybe I was.
But when it was over, I could breathe again.
The bitter waters that had filled that sealed chamber
were gone, emptied out.
In its place came something pure, living waters
from a pure crystal stream, unmistakably from Him.
The Lord leaves no room untouched.
Every locked door is His.
Every deep place is His.
He moves like a glacier—nothing stands in its way
slow, sure, reshaping everything in His path
until what was buried
finally meets the light. No chamber left untouched.
If you are carrying within you something hidden—
something buried away, unnamed, unknown to the world
know this brother, sister
it will not stay buried forever.
He will touch it.
He will open it.
And when He does,
what comes will be healing.
Unmistakable.
Beautiful in its own way.
Stephen, you are not forgotten…..but your father is forgiven.
For it is the God who commanded light to shine out of darkness, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ (2 Corinthians 4:6, NKJV).This divine command, “Let there be light,” echoes not only through the void of creation, but through the depths of the human soul, awakening the dead and igniting the flame of divine revelation within frail vessels of clay.
And these vessels, earthen, vulnerable and mortal, contain within them a treasure beyond comprehension, so that the surpassing greatness of the power may be shown to be of God and not of us (2 Corinthians 4:7, NKJV).It is in this paradox, this sacred tension, that the furnace of affliction becomes the forge of transformation. We are summoned into the crucible, not to be consumed, but to be refined, not to be broken, but to be remade in the image of the Son.
Pressed on every side, yet not crushed, perplexed, but never abandoned to despair, persecuted, yet never forsaken, struck down, but not destroyed (2 Corinthians 4:8–9, NKJV). This is the holy pattern, the bearing of the dying of the Lord Jesus in our bodies, that His life, resurrected and victorious, might also be manifest in us (2 Corinthians 4:10, NKJV).
The flesh suffers and is scourged that the Spirit might rise, the outward man perishes so that the inward man may be renewed day by day (2 Corinthians 4:16, NKJV).This, indeed, is the Christian mystery, that the path to life is through death, and the ascent to glory begins with the descent into suffering.
For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory (2 Corinthians 4:17, NKJV).We do not fix our eyes upon what is seen, for what is seen is fleeting, mortal dust swept along by the winds of time. No, we set our eyes upon the eternal, upon the unseen, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.
It is there, in the realm of eternity, that power is born, the power to endure, to overcome, to rise from the ashes with beauty unspeakable.Peter walked upon the waters while his eyes were locked upon the gaze of his Master. And he began to sink the moment he turned his attention to the storm (Matthew 14:29–30, NKJV).
So it is with us, brothers and sisters. When we look to Christ, we walk in divine power, power to break chains, to still the storm, to raise the dead things to life.Even in the fire, He is with us.“Look!” he answered, “I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt, and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God” (Daniel 3:25, NKJV).
As with the three Hebrew children, the world may peer into the furnace and behold One like the Son of God walking amidst the flames in the midst of our circumstances.And the testimony shall rise, not only from our lips, but from our lives, that this, indeed, is the God of heaven (Daniel 3:28–29, NKJV).
Shall our lives not speak of such glory, saints? Shall our lives not bear testimony of the majesty that resides in us, the Lord Jesus? In the crucible, which is our lives, may our heavenly treasure pour forth as we are poured out for His sake.
A couple of days ago, I found myself praying through the pain. The weight of chronic suffering pressed hard against my body, sleepless nights, relentless aches, and then came the news: my mother, already fragile, had fallen again, twice in three days. Now she lies in a hospital bed back in Scotland, and I feel the ache of distance more deeply than the pain in my bones.
But in the middle of this storm, our little fellowship had just been walking through Colossians 1, and Paul’s words struck deep: “Strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy.” Oh, what a mystery! That in our weakness, we are strengthened, not by our own feeble will, not by grit or determination, but by all might, according to His glorious power. It is Christ. It is all Christ. His strength, His might, His glory. He initiates, He enables, and in Him, we become more than conquerors. And as this truth ignited my spirit, a prayer rose from the depths, a cry not of despair but of victory, and it thrilled my soul and lifted me high, far above the valley, to a place where joy and power meet on the mountaintop of faith. Glory to God!
……………………This was my prayer……….
When every last breath is torn from my lungs, still, I will give You the kiss of life. When I have tasted no food for many days, my soul shall yet feed the hungry. When the sun has hidden its face and the heavens remain cloaked in silence, I will lift my face to You, and You, O Radiant One, will shine through me. And when my heart is heavy with sorrow and anguish drowns my soul, I will break the alabaster jar of joy and pour it out upon the weary. O Lord of Heaven and Earth! Even in the testing, even in the fire and the fury, even in the shadow of death and in the long-suffering of my pain, let me be a blessing. Let me bless them from the prison of that pain. Let me lift them from the depths of my own valley. If they are halfway up the mountain and I am still far below, let them hear my song rise from the depths:Glory to God. Glory to God!
And may the valley blaze with the light of that glory. Let the darkness tremble. Let chains be shattered. Let the echo of praise thunder through every cavern, For You, O King, are worthy in fire and flood, in feast and famine. Majesty in the valley. Majesty on the mountain.
This is a song I wrote about about the valleys of brokenness to the mountaintops of divine encounter.It declares the eternal power of the Lord’s sacrifice and the unshakeable glory of God’s presence. It can be for personal worship or gatherings and I pray that it will draw you close to Jesus. The valleys spoken of in this song are very real, as is the mountaintops. We are called to worship in both places!…..bro Frank
I wrote this song seven months ago, in the very depths of my cancer and chemo. The presence of the Lord and His grace and mercy had settled on me for that whole time and I sensed a very strong anointing from Jesus. Its at this time I wrote this song to love to my Jesus and called it “The song of love.” I pray that it will bless you mightily and take you deeper into His heart………bro Frank
Hi brothers. Post cancer I have been writing a lot of songs. It seems to be the season that I am in. I am interested in creating songs and hymns that actually say something. It seems that many modern Christian songs are very lacking in any kind of theology and based on a formula of a few words and overlays of music and style. This is a link to 23 of my own songs that the Lord has given me, I pray that they bless you in your your thoughts and worship………………bro Frank
I wrote this today from my meditations on the Lord and my great desire to stay in that quiet place with Him. This is where eternal life is, no matter what storms we find ourselves in.
You are my resting place And deep within these realms of grace You are so very near You perfect love casts out all fear
And deep within this very veil Where there's no fear and no travail I'll throw the lines and I'll set sail Into the depths of your heart
You are my resting place I find in you a warm embrace Your peace alone is my one desire That stands with me in the midst of the fire
So when thunder crashes in angry skies I'll pay no heed nor lift my eyes To you alone I'll cast my gaze Beyond the storm and above the waves
You are my resting place It's there I look upon your face You're my anchor Lord, within the veil Your perfect love it never fails
So when lightening fractures the skies above The heavens shall open and rain down with love And I'll be soaked in your heavenly dew As your hand takes hold and carries me through
So Lord you are my resting place And I'm awash in a sea of grace And when the storm is gone and there is no trace I'll sail on, into the depths of your heart.
Old ruined building on hill side in vineyard (Architecture and Buildings) landscape,abandoned house,ruined building,vineyard,old
Isa 5:12 And the harp, and the strings, the tambourine, and flute, and wine, are in their feasts: but they regard not the work of the LORD, neither consider the operation of his hands.
The lord expects good fruit from what He has planted “so He expected it to bring forth good grapes, but it brought forth wild grapes.” (Isa 5:2) Wild grapes are sour and bitter while initially looking like good grapes. Wheat and tares also look very similar, but the tares are only good for burning. The harp and the strings and the instruments and the wine and the feasts are all the activities of those who call themself by the name of Christ. Christendom can busy itself with many things, with much activity, yet if Christ is not at the beating heart of it, its all just motions.
“Unless the Lord of hosts had left us a very small remnant, we would have become like Sodom, we would have been like Gomorrah,” “hear the Word of the Lord you rulers of Sodom, give ear to the Lord to the law of our God, to what is the purpose of your multitude of sacrifices to me? I have had enough burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of the fed cattle……….bring no more futile sacrifices…….when you spread out your hands I will hide my eyes from you, even though you make many prayers, I will not hear you.” (Isa 1:9-15)
There is a tower in the midst of the vineyard and atop that tower the Lord surveys what He has laid down. There must be Jesus at the beating heart of all that we do. He has called us, not to works, but rather to produce much fruit, these are our works. For it is He who broke up the fallow ground. It is He who removed the stones from our heart, it is He who created the wine-press after planting the best vines. “I am the true vine and my Father is the vine-dresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away……………..if anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered and they gather them and throw them into the fire.” (John 15:1-6)
The work of the Lord is to do His will, to bear much fruit, to become like His son Jesus. Unless we abide in Him and He in us, then all of our activities are abominable in His sight. It is hard for our religious minds to get a hold of that, but there it is, lest any man should boast. All of the glory belongs to the Lord, it His majesty and His holiness that we are called to lift up. What are the fruits that delight the Lord? Love, joy, peace, long-suffering, kindness, gentleness, self-control. These are produced in the wine-press, in the crucifying of the flesh. He dwells with the broken and contrite. He loves those who endure, those who overcome, those who are willing to suffer for His name sake. All other measurements are by faulty scales.
In every storm, the saint has an anchor and His name is Jesus. We are out there in the roiling seas and He is the forerunner. He goes before us into the harbor and draws us in. In ancient times when the sea was too stormy to enter the harbor and giant waves would crash against the harbor walls and the ships would drag their anchors and be in danger of overturning and being swamped, they would lower a skiff, a forerunner. The anchor would be placed on the small boat and the boat would make its way into the harbor and the anchor would be dropped in calmer waters ,then the boat would be pulled into the harbor.
Jesus is our forerunner, Jesus is our anchor and He has went before us and prepared a place for us. A place of peace and stillness, His very presence speaks to the storms, be still! When you flee to Jesus He shall be our Rock, our strong high tower. Come to Me, He says, and I will give your weary souls rest. God and His Word are immutable, that is to say unchanging over time, any time, eternity even. God is unchanging and the Words that He speaks are unchanging. He never lies and this immutability, the Word says, is so that we “might have strong consolation who have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before us.” There it is, its right there, take a hold of it, grab onto to it, never let it go, let it take you into the still calm harbor of His presence so that you might survive the storm. Take hold of this brothers and sisters, and you shall not drown.
I wrote this poem yesterday after the report that the cancer in my colon was gone. It reflects upon the storm my family and I have navigated in the last several months with a diagnosis of stage 4 cancer. It was not my first storm and I am sure it will not be my last but the one ever present help has been Jesus. I have lived as a Christian long enough to know that Jesus is the anchor of my soul. I still have a pet scan next week to determine if the cancer is still in the rest of my body, but the same God who rules and reigns this week, shall be ruling and reigning next week and I will be careful to give Him all the honor and all the praise. Peace, in the midst of the storm, is among the most valuable treasures from the vaults of heaven. If you are in the midst of a storm today, come to Jesus and He will give you peace and rest for your weary soul.
The strength that takes me through.
The anchor of my soul When I was on my knees Is the harbor of my life Amidst the stormy seas
You are my strong high-tower You're the one I run into When I'm weak you are the power The strength that takes me through
The waters shall not overwhelm The fires shall not consume When Christ my Lord is at the helm When His presence fills the room
You were there from the very start You are there when I'm all alone You dwell in the very depths of my heart You are there upon your throne
So I'll praise you lord forevermore You're my life, my breath, my all When you knock I'll open up the door I will answer when I hear you call.
Finding our place within the bigger picture is about knowing the one whose painting the landscape. It’s about being content with being just one stroke from the Masters brush, but knowing that this one stroke causes us to be a vital part of the whole. To be amazed just to have a seat at the table, or to be a brushstroke on the canvas or a single thread in the tapestry is to have a peace that surpasses understanding. Finding our rightful place within the Kingdom is the journey and we discover that the journey itself is the purpose. The destination is simply the veil drawn back. And suddenly we shall see as we are seen and know as we are known. Jesus is the King, He is the Kingdom, He is the journey and He is our final destination.
I awoke this morning (05/17/2024) from a dream about exalting the name of Jesus and I had this line in my spirit “perfect in all your broken pieces,” which prompted the writing of this poem………….
Made perfect in Christ
Perfect in all your broken pieces Perfect in the Blood of Christ alone His perfect love it never ceases As He draws you before His triumphant throne
Jesus, Jesus how I love you so I know you'll never let me go Beneath thy wing I ever stand Safe and secure in the palm of your hand
I'm healed by the Blood that never ceases I'm healed as I wade amidst it's flow And my cry to the heavens surely reaches It cleanses me whiter than the purest snow
I'm perfected by Christ my one Redeemer The one who died for you and for me I'm healed and made whole as I go ever deeper Deeper in Him shall set me free
His perfect love cries out in the darkness It cries out to you right where you are Conquering all sin and death and sadness He is so near who once was so far.
By embracing the possibility of death, this has released within me an abundance of life. Life and that more abundantly flows from the one who dies to himself. We know this. We learn this from the Scriptures. We are schooled by the Holy Spirit to take up our cross and die daily. In the midst of death to self, comes pouring forth life in Christ. There is an ocean that lies within us and in order for it to well up inside of us and come rushing forth like a mighty tsunami, there has to be an earthquake. There has to be a mighty shaking that sweeps away everything that is is not firmly rooted on the solid foundation of Christ my King.What an honor for me to be shaken in such a way that demonstrates to the world the immovable force that lies within me. Christ and Him crucified. The Holy Spirit and the baptism of fire. My Father in heaven who sits upon the throne.
Death may come barreling towards us like a freight train sometimes, but life in Christ falls upon us like a ateroid. Events of such magnitude threatens everything that we know and is the catalyst to change everything we have ever known. For out of death to this world springs forth life. Out of the gross darkness of our circumstances God commands light to shine forth in all its celestial glory. Not just any light, rather light that emenates from the fires of heaven. The same fires that a coal was taken from and touched the lips of Isaiah. In this light everything is on the line. Death where is your sting in the light of Christ my King? Oh grave where is your victory in the glory of His majesty? There is a love vast as the ocean and it dwells inside of me, there is victory over all my flesh for my Lord has set me free. There is a peace that surpasses understanding when to this world we surely die, one day at a time, anxious for nothing, tis our eternal hearts cry.
Forgiveness is a river that flows from a mountain of grace and runs into and ocean of love. And mercy falls like rain, again and again, and soaks us to the bone as it continually falls from up above.It falls, it falls into the deepest part of me and transforms me again and again until Christ is all you see. In the Kingdom of God there are times and seasons and they ebb and flow. And we are called to fall into their rhythms so that we take root and grow. Growing beside the river, the evergreens take their place, fed from the waters of life with the Son upon their face.
In season and out of season we are ever ready and I’ll shall walk in the way He leads, for He has ever led me. He leads me through the mountain passes and down into the valley, and we ford the raging spring time river. This river that flows from the mountain high, it continually flows forever. So there are times and seasons and mountains and valleys. There are times to live and there are times to die. I often look and wonder why. Yet only for a moment for then I lift my eyes to the one from whom all seasons flow. I shut my eyes and now I know the way that I must go.
Heavenly seeds are sown in the shadows of winter Where the only light to be found is but a flicker Yet come the spring, that which fell and died Rises with the summer sun and is glorified
Tribulation may be the soil beneath our feet Yet the glory is the blossom and the fruit And storms and trials may be our lot But Christ Himself is our very root
We can glory in the cross and in the shame And we can do it all for the sake of His name Yet the seed that falls and dies in the ground Shall rise again in glory, and in Him shall be found
So cry aloud with all your might beneath the soil For neither principality nor power can despoil The coming glory of the day that follows night And the saint who praises God with all their might!
If I could capture the light from a million sunbeams And grasp every falling star from the sky And be filled with the light of a thousand suns Then I'll be ready when the time comes
When the time comes to walk into your glory Where the brightest sun simply hides its face in shame And the universe itself bows down in humble adoration And we leave behind the very edges of our imagination
A place where the ocean is rendered to but a single tear And all the heavens above cry out in resounding glory And a million upon ten million incorruptible saints Sway in the wind of the Spirit and know there are no restraints
No eye has seen nor has any ear ever heard Nor has it entered into the hearts of those who love Him Of the glory and the majesty of this heavenly place Where we gaze upon His throne and look into His face.
A Call To The Remnant 