Daily Archives: November 20, 2025

“Ye Shall Not Add… Neither Shall Ye Diminish”:A Cry Against the Alteration of God’s Holy Word by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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he poem is a fierce, urgent warning that the single most soul-destroying habit a person can adopt is to tamper with the Word of God (adding to it, subtracting from it, softening it, or reinterpreting it to suit human preference).

It portrays such alteration as a slow-acting but lethal poison: a tiny change (one jot, one tittle) seems harmless at first, yet it quietly corrupts the heart, removes the anchor of truth, and ultimately leaves the soul shipwrecked and estranged from God.

Modern attempts to “update” or “humanize” Scripture are exposed as proud rebellion: men making themselves kinder than God and forging a false mercy that becomes an eternal funeral pyre.

The closing charge is absolute: lay down the pen, touch not one syllable, stand in awe and trembling. Better to be broken by the unflinching rod of the true Word than to die smiling under a counterfeit gospel. The words of Scripture are settled forever; to meddle with them is to invite spiritual ruin.

  • Deuteronomy 4:2
    Ye shall not add unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye diminish ought from it, that ye may keep the commandments of the LORD your God which I command you.
  • Deuteronomy 12:32
    What thing soever I command you, observe to do it: thou shalt not add thereto, nor diminish from it.
  • Proverbs 30:5-6
    Every word of God is pure: he is a shield unto them that put their trust in him. Add thou not unto his words, lest he reprove thee, and thou be found a liar.
  • Joshua 1:7
    Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commanded thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.
  • Jeremiah 26:2
    Thus saith the LORD; Stand in the court of the LORD’s house, and speak unto all the cities of Judah, which come to worship in the LORD’s house, all the words that I command thee to speak unto them; diminish not a word.
  • Matthew 5:18-19
    For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled. Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.
  • Galatians 1:8-9
    But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed.
  • Revelation 22:18-19
    For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book, If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book.

Beware the hand that dares to bend
The living Word to private end;
No poison drips so slow, so sure,
No blade cuts deeper, none more pure
Than subtle change of what God said,
A shifted line, a verse half-dead.

The soul that drinks that altered stream
Will sicken in a silent dream;
First taste seems sweet, the change so small,
A jot, a tittle, that is all.
Yet day by day the fever grows,
Till truth lies bleeding no one knows.

Men call it wisdom, call it light,
To trim the Word for modern sight;
They soften threats, they blunt the rod,
And crown themselves more kind than God.
But mercy forged in human fire
Becomes the soul’s eternal pyre.

I’ve seen the wreck on every shore—
The heart that thought it needed more
Than what was written, plain and clear;
It added comfort, stifled fear,
Then woke to find the anchor gone,
And every star of guidance none.

O trembling hand, lay down the pen,
Let not one sacred syllable bend!
The Book that thunders, “Do not add,”
Still holds the power to make hearts glad
Or break them on the whetstone true;
Its ruin is its healing too.

Touch not the Word, though curiosity burn;
The soul that tampers shall itself be torn.
Better to bleed beneath the rod
Than smile forever estranged from God.
Stand trembling, stand in dust and awe—
The Word is settled. That is all.

To Pray The Impossible by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational

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The poem portrays praying for the impossible as a daring, almost reckless spiritual adventure. It is an act of extreme faith: standing at the absolute edge of what can be, flinging fragile hope into an abyss, walking a razor-thin line between despair and miracle .Rather than a polite request, such prayer is depicted as trespassing into forbidden territory—barging into heaven’s locked garden, disturbing the sleep of the divine, and demanding what was never meant to be given. Yet the tone is wondrous, not blasphemous: the impossible is personified as something curious, half-awake, even amused by the audacity.In the end, when the impossible actually happens, the breakthrough is overwhelming and humbling. The speaker realizes the true thrill was never in receiving the answer, but in the wild courage to ask for a road where no road could exist. The poem celebrates the sheer adventure of radical, divine and Holy faith.

To pray the impossible is an adventure indeed
a barefoot crossing of a sea that has no other side
where the wind tastes of salt and unfinished psalms
and every heartbeat is a drumbeat against the ribs of God.

You stand at the edge of what cannot be
palms raw from holding questions too heavy for hands
whispering into the dark that refuses to answer back
yet the dark leans closer, curious, almost tender.

It is to fling your small coin of faith
into a night with no bottom
and hear, far below, the faint metallic ring
of something vast turning over in its sleep.

To pray the impossible
is to walk the narrow ridge between despair and dawn
where miracles grow like frost-flowers on the breath
delicate, lethal, unbearably bright.

You become the trespasser on a shore the tide forgot
reaching for fruit that hangs just beyond the stars
and the angels, instead of turning away
lean in, half-smiling, as if they too
have been waiting to see what happens next.

And when the impossible finally cracks open
like a sunrise inside your chest
you will not say “I knew it all along”
you will only fall to your knees
laughing and weeping at once
because the adventure
was never about arriving
but about daring to ask
for a road
where no road
could ever be.

A Sonnet In Awe Of God’s Provision by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise

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The sparrow rides a wind it never earned,
Its wings edged bright with light not of its own;
A widow’s jar still whispers flour, unturned,
The cruse bleeds oil where want should overthrow.

From flint-split heart the rock remembers grace,
Manna descends like mercy’s slow refrain;
Lions grow tame before the psalmist’s face,
The fourth walks fire and cools the furnace flame.

The barren womb breaks sudden into song,
The prisoner’s chains slip off like outworn skin;
The leper reaches—finds his hand made strong,
New flesh where rot had gnawed its way within.

We, beggars waking rich, stand stunned and dumb:
Love’s scandalous arithmetic o’ercomes.

In Awe of How God Provides for His Own by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise, Thanksgiving

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The poem is a lyrical meditation on the wonder of divine provision. Drawing from biblical images (sparrows, ravens and widows, manna, water from the rock, Daniel in the lions’ den, Shadrach and his friends in the furnace, Sarah’s laughter, restored lepers, multiplied loaves), it celebrates God’s miraculous, often extravagant care for His people.

It portrays a God who turns scarcity into abundance, danger into safety, and emptiness into overflowing grace. Nothing is wasted in His economy; even tears and lost years are redeemed. The tone is one of stunned gratitude before the “scandalous arithmetic” of a Provider who refuses to let His own go hungry, leaving the speaker (and reader) in speechless awe and worship.

The sparrow lifts on a wind it never earned,
wings tipped with light that was not its making;
it drinks from a puddle cupped in broken stone—
a chalice the storm forgot to shatter.

A widow counts two coins that should have been one,
yet the jar keeps breathing flour, the jug keeps bleeding oil;
the prophet’s raven drops bread like dark forgiveness
on a fugitive hiding from his own prayers.

Out of the cracked heart of a rock, water remembers
how to be generous;
manna falls like slow punctuation
in the long sentence of the wilderness.

Even the lions in their hunger learn restraint
when a man stands in their den humming psalms;
the fourth figure walks the furnace, unconsumed,
cooling the flames with the hem of mercy.

See the childless womb that suddenly laughs,
the prisoner whose chains fall off like old skin,
the leper who reaches, and instead of losing a hand
finds it wrapped in new flesh.

Nothing is wasted—
not the five loaves, not the tears, not the years eaten by locusts.
He keeps every sparrow in a ledger of love
and every hair numbered like stars in a private sky.

So we stand, beggars who wake up rich,
carrying empty cups that keep overflowing,
stunned into worship by the scandalous arithmetic
of a God who will not let His own go hungry.

Amen.