Against Syncretism: How a Mixed Gospel Becomes No Gospel at All by Debbie Harris

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Spiritual Warfare, Taking A Stand Against Evil

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A Note from the Poet to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This verse is not offered as ornament, nor as a clever quarrel with the age. It is a warning. The Holy Triune God has given one gospel, and that gospel will not bear another lord, another law, another hope, or another holiness beside Christ.

What men call breadth is often unbelief with better manners. Progressivism, liberalism, Rome’s additions, the paths of Hinduism and Buddhism, the dreams of socialism, Marxism, and the commune, together with every immorality that refuses repentance—these are not cousins of Biblical Christianity. They are strange fire. To bind them to the cross is to unmake the cross. The mixture is not a larger faith. It is another gospel. Another gospel is no gospel. And a false gospel, however crowded its pews and however loud its hymns, still sends souls to hell.

Read, then, not to admire the rhyme, but to test the foundation. If Christ is not enough, nothing else will save. If Scripture is not sufficient, no council, party, or philosophy can repair it. Keep the faith unmixed. Guard the deposit. Do not marry the Bride to a banner God never raised.

The Poet

Do not yoke the cross with banners men have raised,

nor pour strange fire where only God is praised.

Progressive creeds and liberal softening speech

cannot baptize the gospel they would teach.

Rome cannot finish what the Lord has done;

Hindu wheels turn, Buddhist silence has no Son.

Socialist dreams, the Marxist banner red,

the commune’s hope—these leave the living dead.

Immorality wears no kind or borrowed face;

it walks in hellish clothes and claims no grace.

What God has named anathema stays banned;

no mixture sits unjudged before His hand.

The gospel is not clay for other hands,

nor cargo-hold for platforms, parties, plans.

It is Christ crucified, the empty grave,

repentance, faith—the only word that saves.

Scripture sufficient, grace that none can earn,

holiness required till He return.

Add other ground and you have built in vain;

the house is His no more, the faith is slain.

Syncretism is not charity or light;

another gospel is no gospel right.

It soothes the lost, it flatters every age,

and sings them hellward from a crowded stage.

The Triune God will not divide His throne

with saints or systems He has never known.

Guard the deposit; keep the Bride unwed

to any lord but Christ, the living Head.

Christ plus nothing. Mix it, and it dies.

The false gospel sends souls to hell with hymns and lies.

**To God be the glory always and only!

Make His Salvation Known from Shore to Shore by Debbie Harris

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, salvation

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A Note from the Poet

Dear Reader,

These lines were written for one purpose: that Christ would be made known, and that His salvation would be seen for what it is—a gift, freely given.

The earth still groans. The night still thickens, just as Jesus said it would. Yet the Cross has not moved. The door has not closed. The wounded King still offers what no one can earn.

If these words find you weary, take them as an invitation. If they find you already His, take them as a charge: speak His name while the hours remain.

Glory to Jesus.

—The Poet

Ephesians 2:8-9

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.

Romans 6:23

For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Romans 8:22

For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.

Matthew 24:12

And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.

John 16:33

In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

Galatians 6:14

But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world.

1 Corinthians 1:18

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.

Mark 16:15

And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.

John 12:32

And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.

2 Corinthians 6:2

Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Let Christ be lifted, let His gift be told—

Jesus given freely, not bought, not sold.

The earth still labors, bound and torn,

All creation groaning, waiting to be born.

Night thickens now, as the Savior spoke,

Yet the Cross stands open, the darkness broke.

Glory to Jesus, the Wounded King,

Whose blood made beggars heirs of everything.

So speak it plainly while the hours remain:

The gift is free, the door is not in vain.

Make Christ be known from shore to shore—

Till every groan is answered, and night is no more.

**To God be the glory always and only.

What Wonders They Are Seeing Now by Debbie Harris

20 Sunday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Inspirational

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Dear Reader,


If you have not lost a parent, this may sound like church language laid over an absence. If you have, you will hear the pause between the giving and the taking. That pause is the whole poem. I repeat the words because once is not enough, and because Job said them first, standing in a ruin, and somehow they did not break. I am trying to stand the same way. Blessed be the name—not as a denial of tears, but as a way to keep speaking while the tears are still coming.

Job 1:21
The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

Revelation 21:4
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore.

The Lord gives.
The Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

If it is a mother He takes—
the Lord gives,
the Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

If it is a father—
the Lord gives,
the Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

Yes, we grieve.
We are earthly still,
and made of dust.But oh—
what wonders they are seeing now.
What company of the holy
leans in to speak with them.
What bodies they wear:
glorified,
healed,
whole,
and young.

No more pain.
No more suffering.
No more weight of the world
on the shoulders we knew.

They are with their Creator.

The Lord gives.
The Lord takes.
Blessed be the name of our God.

**To God be the glory always and only!

When Grief Is Greater Than Action by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry

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Dear Reader,

This poem came from a day when grief was greater than action. I was not looking for a way around it, and I was not trying to leave it behind. I was simply in it. In that place, God did not wait for me to become strong first. He became my strength—not only for the day, but for every moment inside it. Present. Sufficient. Triumphant even while the grief remained.

I have come to believe this is the kind of reliance God wants from us: not strength we manufacture, but strength we receive. Hour by hour. Moment by moment.

If you are standing in a stillness like that, I wrote this for you. You do not have to produce the next step. God can be the strength of every day and every moment. Through Christ, we can indeed be triumphant.

— the poet

Deuteronomy 33:25
Thy shoes shall be iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.

When grief is

greater than action,

God then becomes

our triumphant strength.

**To God be the glory always and only.

Let All We Are Be Praise by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry

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Dear Reader,

I have seen how great God is in grief.


I have seen Him provide in ways I never thought possible.


I have seen His tender care rest over those near and dear to me.

From that seeing, this poem was born.It did not come from a life untouched by sorrow, but from the quiet places where He met us still—where He held what we could not hold, and gave what we did not know how to ask for. These lines are only a small offering of thanks: that even ordinary hours, even aching hours, may become a hymn of praise.

May they lead you not to the poem, but to Him.— The Poet

Psalm 34:1
I will bless the LORD at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.

Habakkuk 3:17–18
Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4
Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.

Psalm 147:3
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.

May every part of us become a song—
the work, the waiting, the word we speak,
the quiet rooms, the crowded street,
the strength we give, the rest we keep.

Not only lifted voices in the night,
but how we walk and how we stay,
how we receive what comes our way,
how we endure, how we obey.

Let joy be music, let sorrow be too,
let ordinary hours rise and ring.
May all we are, in everything,
be hymn and offering unto You.

For My Mother, Who Made Words and Loved the Word by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in A Loving Tribute, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible

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Note to the Reader

Dear Reader,

This poem was written after the death of my mother. She was a professor, a Shakespearean actress, a writer, and, above all, a passionate follower of Jesus Christ. I wanted to tell the truth about missing her without letting grief have the last word.

She made words for a living, and she loved the Word. What she taught did not end when her voice did. It remains in her students and in her children. The poem tries to hold both things at once: that the Lord gives, and the Lord takes, and that His name is still to be blessed.

If you have loved someone and lost them, I hope you can borrow the peace this poem asks for—the peace He gives, and we take as a gift.

The Poet

Job 1:21

Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

Philippians 4:7

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

2 Corinthians 1:3–4

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.

Revelation 21:5

And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.

She taught the line until the line could stand,

and spoke old verse with a sure, living hand.

The classroom keeps the brightness of her mind;

the stage still knows the measure she designed.

Professor, actress, maker of the word—

and more than these, a follower of her Lord.

She loved the Christ she named in work and days;

her passion was not pose, but prayer and praise.

Not only silence after she is gone:

Christ is the morning she is gathered on.

Her laugh remains in ordinary air;

her faith still kindles, living, otherwhere—

in students who still hear her in the line,

in children carrying her light as theirs.

The script may close, the costume find its place,

yet all she gave still lives in victorious grace.

O Savior, comfort, hope that does not cease,

You give the heart an unexpected peace—

a peace that passes all we understand,

yet given still; we take it from Your hand.

The Lord who gives, the Lord who takes,

blessed be His name, for love’s own sake,

now and forever, and for her sake too,

held in the light that makes all things new.

**To God be the glory always and only.

The Promises Of God, Yea And Amen: Let His Beauty In You Make Them Yearn by Debbie Harris

19 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry

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Dear Reader,

Remember what you have received. Hold fast to it, and contend for the faith once delivered to the saints. The promises of God are yea and amen—not distant words on a page, but living fire given to the soul that believes. May that fire of faith be kindled in you again: not a passing warmth, but a steady flame that teaches you to treasure Scripture, to live it, to adore its beauty, and to walk the high places of gratitude and joy. Let it produce a fire in you, that all the world may see the light of Jesus Christ in you. Do not let go of what has been placed in your hands. Keep it. Guard it. Contend for it. Let it light a holy flame.

What follows is an English sonnet: fourteen lines in three quatrains and a closing couplet, rhymed ABAB CDCD EFEF GG.

The Poet

For all the promises of God in him are yea, and in him Amen, unto the glory of God by us.
—2 Corinthians 1:20

Remember therefore how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast, and repent.”
—Revelation 3:3

Beloved… it was needful for me to write unto you, and exhort you that ye should earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.
—Jude 1:3

Let us hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;)
—Hebrews 10:23

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
—Matthew 5:16

God’s promises are yea and amen still,
firm-spoken, sure, and sealed in Christ the Son;
believe this word, and you shall climb the hill
of gratitude, where joy and praise are one.

Not shadowed vales, nor long and weary plains,
but sunlit ridges, bright with grace bestowed,
where every step His living truth sustains
and gratitude itself becomes the road.

Hold fast the holy fire you have received;
let all the world look on and see its flame,
till Christ in you is known, seen, and believed,
and every promise answers to His name.

Keep what was given on this brief sojourn—
and let His beauty in you make them yearn.

**To God Be The Glory Always And Only!

Triumph Over Grief Hymn by Debbie Haarris

18 Friday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Dedicated to my beloved Mom, Doris Harris-January 19, 1929-September 3, 2026

A majestic hymn in seven stanzas with refrain

A Note from the Poet

Dear reader,

This hymn was written for the hour when love feels interrupted and the heart still reaches for a name. It does not deny the wound. It simply refuses to let the wound have the last word.

The ones we miss are not gone into nothing. In Christ they are more alive than ever—free of pain, walking the streets of gold with the King of kings. Until we join them at His throne, we sing. Grief may walk with us for a season; triumph walks farther.

May these verses lift your eyes.

—The Poet

Stanza 1

The hour of parting came and went,

Yet love has not been overthrown.

What seemed an ending heaven sent

As glory we had never known.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 2

The names we speak with tender voice

Are written in the Book of Life.

Their joy has found its highest choice

Beyond all earthly toil and strife.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 3

The heart still feels the sacred wound,

Yet faith beholds a greater sight:

The ones we miss are home, and crowned,

And bathed in everlasting light.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 4

No sickness stays, no darkness clings;

The former things have passed away.

They lift their voice with ransomed kings

And praise the Lamb through endless day.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 5

We walk by faith and not by sight,

Yet soon the veil shall lift at last.

Then face to face, in pure delight,

We join the song that cannot pass.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 6

O death, where is thy vaunted sting?

O grave, where is thy victory?

The risen Christ, our Lord and King,

Has opened immortality.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Stanza 7

Till then we lift this triumph hymn

And fix our eyes upon the throne.

The ones we love now walk with Him—

And we shall join them at His throne.

Refrain

They are not dead—they live more fully now!

No pain, no tear, no shadowed night.

They walk the streets of shining gold

With Jesus Christ, the King of Light!

Under His Wings, You Will Find Refuge by Debbie Harris

17 Thursday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry

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Dear Reader,

These lines are offered for the tender, grieving heart that seeks shelter. That refuge is His Word, and the Person of Jesus Christ, under whose wings the mourning may rest—and in due time mount up with wings like eagles. It is found also in friends and in those who surround us with loving care.

Beneath the shadow of His mighty wings
A refuge waits for tender, grieving hearts;
There peace descends and holy comfort sings,
And healing comes as His own love imparts.

He covers thee with feathers soft and true,
A shield against the arrows of the night;
His faithfulness a rampart ever new,
A fortress strong, a never-failing light.

Though grief may press and tears in silence fall,
The one who rests beneath the Lord Most High;
Still comfort comes to answer every call,
Protected by the One who hears the cry.

So trust in Him and find thy hiding place,
Enfolded in the wings of boundless grace.

**To God be the glory always and only.

Strengthened According to Your Word by Debbie Harris

17 Thursday Sep 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Grief, Bereavement, Loss, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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To the reader
If you have lost a parent, this is for you. The Word of the Lord can heal the heart.

-the Poet

My soul is weary with sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word.


— Psalm 119:28

He will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.

-Psalm 91:4 (ESV)

Your Word, O Lord, is gentle first—
a balm on grief, a hand on fear,
a quiet oil upon the heart
that says, I see you. I am here.

Then hope stands up inside the dark
and love begins to fill the room.
What ached is not denied or hid;
it is made whole, then given bloom.

Your Word does more than soothe the night.
It lifts. It opens. It makes way.
The spirit, healed, remembers height
and takes the wide, unborrowed day.

We rest in what Your Word has given.
We love because Your love is sure.
Your Word is comfort, then is sky.
Grief yields. Fear fades. And still we rise.