Tag Archives: Christ Centered Devotionals

For Such a Time as This: Christ’s Mighty Hand Delivers Iran Through Israel and the United States by Debbie Harris

01 Sunday Mar 2026

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Patriotic, Spiritual Warfare

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In the ancient lands where prophets once spoke God’s word,
Persia—now Iran—groaned under demonic chains,
A regime of darkness, veiling truth, oppressing souls,
Mocking the Creator with its iron-fisted reign.
Yet the Lord who parted seas and toppled walls of old
Has not forgotten His covenant, nor His chosen kin.
He raises up nations under God, instruments of His will,
To shatter the yoke and let the captives begin again.

Behold Israel, the apple of His eye, steadfast and true,
Guarded by the Almighty through fire and through sword.
And the United States, a beacon once lit by faith’s pure flame—
One nation under God, indivisible, trusting in the Lord.
Through His mighty power these allies have struck as one,
In righteous fury against the tyrants who defied His name.
The supreme leader falls, the clerical fortress crumbles low,
As missiles of justice rain from skies ordained by Heaven’s claim.

No mere mortal scheme, but divine orchestration clear:
The Lion of Judah roars through Israel’s valiant stand,
While America’s eagles soar on wings of providential might,
Delivering blows that echo the Lord’s redeeming hand.
The devils flee in terror, their thrones cast to the dust,
Their false paradise exposed as a pit of endless night.
For where the Spirit of Christ moves, strongholds must yield—
Liberty bursts forth in the blaze of eternal light.

O Iran, ancient cradle of the Magi who sought the King,
Your people rise now, called by the Savior’s voice so near.
The house churches multiply, prayers ascend like incense pure,
As millions turn to Jesus, casting off every fear.
The women unveil in freedom, the youth proclaim His name,
The oppressed find refuge in the arms of the Lamb who was slain.
Through Israel’s courage and America’s faithful resolve,
God has wrought deliverance—His power alone sustains.

Praise the Lord of Hosts, who humbles the proud and lifts the meek!
He uses nations under God to fulfill His holy decree.
The regime of terror lies broken, its demonic grip undone,
For Christ reigns supreme—victory belongs to Thee.
From Tehran to the mountains, let every tongue confess:
Jesus is Lord, the true Liberator, forever blessed.
Israel and America, blessed instruments in His plan,
Have seen His mighty power deliver a captive land.

Hallelujah! The dawn has broken, the chains are no more.
In Christ’s name alone, true freedom forevermore.

Morning’s First Hymn – A Small Bird’s Anthem to the One Who Made All Things by Debbie Harris

26 Thursday Feb 2026

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

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The poem opens with a serene depiction of early morning: soft golden light spreading over hills as the world awakens in quiet beauty. High in the tallest tree, a small bird perches and begins to sing—not out of need or sorrow, but in pure, unburdened joy. Its clear, trembling notes rise like a hymn, praising the Creator who gave it wings, voice, and life.The bird becomes a living emblem of effortless gratitude and worship: free of worldly cares, it simply offers song to the One who made it. The speaker is moved by this tiny, radiant creature and gently longs for the same simplicity in human hearts. We, too often weighed down by worry or distraction, are invited to learn from the bird—to rise with the dawn, open our souls, and lift our own praise to our Creator with the same natural, wholehearted delight.In essence, the poem is a tender meditation on gratitude, worship, and emulation: the bird’s morning song reveals a model of how we might live—awake to beauty, unencumbered by complaint, and continually singing back to God in response to His gift of life and wonder.

In the hush of dawn, when the world lies still,
Golden light spills soft o’er the eastern hill,
A tiny bird ascends the tallest tree,
Perched on swaying bough, wild and free.

His feathers catch the rose and amber gleam,
A jewel alive in the morning’s dream,
Throat trembling wide, he pours forth his lay—
Pure notes of joy that chase the night away.

No thought of sorrow, no weight of care,
Only praise ascending through the crystal air,
A hymn to the Maker who formed his wing,
Who tuned his voice that the heavens might ring.

O may our hearts, so often bound and dim,
Learn from this creature, so small yet so brim
With gratitude’s fire, with love’s simple art—
To lift our own song with an open heart.

Let us rise like the lark in the breaking day,
And sing to our Creator, come what may,
For in every breath, in beauty’s embrace,
We find the same wonder, the same boundless grace.

The Faithful Covering: From Pitch-Sealed Arks to the Blood-Sealed Soul by Debbie Harris

20 Friday Feb 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Prayer, Royally Redeemed, salvation

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We are not left to hold ourselves together by willpower, discipline, or personal stability. Through Christ’s finished work on the cross, God actively sustains us—inside and out—amid life’s storms, overwhelming seasons, emotional waves, or faith-stretching trials. We are not barely afloat; we are covered, cherished, and held in His unfailing grace.

In ancient days when judgment fell like rain,
A righteous man received the Lord’s command:
“Build thee an ark of gopher, strong and plain,
And pitch it round with bitumen’s dark hand.”
Inside and out the thick black seal was laid,
No drop could breach what God Himself designed;
Through forty nights the deluge roared and swayed,
Yet safety held where grace and pitch combined.

Then came a mother, heart in anguish torn,
Who wove a fragile boat of reed and slime,
And daubed it well with pitch from dusk till morn,
To guard her child from Pharaoh’s cruel crime.
Upon the Nile the little ark was set,
A basket borne through waters wild and deep;
The covering kept the infant safe from threat,
Till Pharaoh’s daughter drew him from his sleep.

Two vessels small, yet echoing one theme:
Not wood’s own strength, nor builder’s skill prevailed,
But God’s provided coat, a faithful dream,
That turned destruction back and life entailed.
The ark through flood, the basket through the stream—
Both sealed by pitch, both shadowed forth the Son,
Whose blood, once shed, redeems us from the dream
Of self-held strength; in Him our all is won.

No longer do we clutch at trembling frame,
Nor fear the rising tide will sweep us under;
In Christ all things cohere, He bears our name,
His finished work our souls in mercy sunder
From wrath’s dark flood. Though waves may crash and roar,
And seasons press with weight we scarce can bear,
The covering holds—eternal, evermore—
For He who pitched the ark is present there.

So breathe, dear soul, when storms assail your peace;
You are not left to drift or fall apart.
The same sure hand that brought deliverance
Now holds you fast within His steadfast heart.
In Christ you stand, not barely kept afloat,
But covered, cherished, whole—forever His.
The pitch of old, the cross of love, the note
Of grace resounding: You are held in bliss.

Closing Prayer

Faithful God,
You who sealed the ark against the flood
and coated the basket on the Nile with Your protecting hand,
thank You for the greater covering we now have in Christ.

His blood, poured out once for all, has sealed us inside and out—
not by our strength, but by Your unfailing grace.
When the waters rise and our hearts tremble,
hold us together in Him.
Let us rest, not in our own frail vessels,
but in the finished work of Your Son.

Breathe Your peace over us today.
Remind us: we are not barely afloat;
we are covered, cherished, and held forever in Your steadfast love.

In the name of Jesus, our true Ark and Covering,
Amen.

The Absurd Contradiction of Relativism Laid Bare: He Who Proclaimeth “There Is No Absolute Truth” Hath Already Testified Against Himself in the Sight of Him Who Is the Way, the Truth, and the Life by Debbie Harris

19 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by in Bible Centered Poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings

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This Shakespearean sonnet exposes the self-contradiction of relativism: anyone claiming “truth is relative” unwittingly asserts an absolute truth—that relativity is universally true—thus sawing off the branch they sit on. Rooted in pride, relativism rejects logic while depending on it, mistaking chaos for freedom. The poem concludes by calling readers to abandon shifting shadows and embrace the unmoved, eternal, pure Truth—Jesus Christ, the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6 KJV). Turn to Jesus Christ, the only Savior of the world, for He alone is the absolute Truth that stands forever and offers true liberty from deception.

In essence: Relativism collapses the moment it speaks, proving absolute truth inescapable. Turn to Jesus Christ, the only Savior of the world.

John 14:6 (KJV)
Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

Shall truth itself be made a wandering guest,
A shape that shifts with every mortal mind?
If all is relative, then none may rest
On solid ground, for certainty is blind.
Yet he who claims “no absolute may reign”
Doth forge a blade that cuts his own decree:
For in that very word his lips maintain
An absolute — that relativity must be.

O sweet contradiction, born of pride,
Thou bidst the law of non-contradiction flee,
Yet leanest on its breast where logic died,
And callest chaos truth’s own liberty.

Let tongues that love the shadow turn to light:
Truth stands unmoved — eternal, pure, and bright.

Ye Are of God—Greater Is He in You Than He That Is in the World: An Anthem of Redeemed Royalty by Debbie Harris

19 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Inspirational, Praise, Royally Redeemed

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1 John 4:4 (KJV)
Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.

Ye Are of God—Greater Is He in You Than He That Is in the World: An Anthem of Redeemed Royalty.The poem is a triumphant declaration of spiritual victory based on 1 John 4:4 (KJV). It celebrates the indwelling presence of God—the Holy Spirit—within every believer as far greater and more powerful than any evil force or darkness that rules the world.Key themes and progression:

  • Contrast of powers: The “greater” One (God/Christ/Holy Spirit) living inside believers overcomes the “prince of darkness” and his influence, no matter how fierce or persistent his attacks may seem.
  • Inner divine reality: Every redeemed person (saint/child of God) carries an unquenchable fire, undimmed light, and the very presence of heaven, fulfilling God’s promises.
  • Spiritual warfare acknowledged: Believers face real opposition—not just human struggles, but unseen powers that try to bind and break—but victory is already sealed through Christ’s strength.
  • Freedom from fear: No fear, storm, or worldly rage can overpower the inner voice and authority given by God; heaven’s power determines the outcome.
  • Royal identity and call to action: Redeemed believers stand as royalty, clothed in divine armor and grace. The poem ends with a stirring summons to “rise up” as children of the King, boldly proclaim freedom, and live in the reality that the conquering God of life and resurrection dwells mightily in them.

In essence, the poem is an encouraging anthem of assurance, empowerment, and praise: because God is greater and lives within us, we are overcomers—redeemed royalty called to stand fearless, victorious, and bold for His glory.It moves from recognition of the battle → assurance of inner victory → rejection of fear → declaration of royal identity → a final rallying cry to rise and proclaim the truth. Amen—greater indeed is He!

Greater is He that is in us,
Than he that rules the shadowed throng—
The Prince of darkness, fierce and sly,
Whose whispers echo loud and long.

Yet in the heart of every saint,
The Holy Spirit dwells supreme;
A fire unquenched, a light undimmed,
Fulfilling every promised dream.

We wrestle not with flesh alone,
But powers that seek to bind and break;
Yet victory’s seal is on our souls—
For Christ’s own strength we undertake.

No fear can chain what God has freed,
No storm can drown the inner voice;
The world may rage with fleeting might,
But heaven’s power makes our choice.

Redeemed and royal, bold we stand,
In armor forged by grace divine;
For greater is He within our breast
Than any foe in this world of thine.

Rise up, O children of the King!
Proclaim the truth that sets us free—
The God who conquered death and grave
Lives mighty now in you and me.

Amen—greater indeed is He!

Christianity Does Not Progress with the Times—Nor Should It: The Eternal Message of Christ Crucified Remains the Same by Debbie Harris

17 Tuesday Feb 2026

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

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he sonnet affirms the unchanging nature of Christianity and its core Gospel message. It declares that the good news of salvation—unchanged for 2,000 years—requires no updates or adaptations to fit modern times, cultures, or philosophies. While empires fall, ideas fade, and societies evolve, the truth of Christ crucified remains fixed and sufficient. God’s Word endures eternally, unaltered by human councils, trends, or shifting eras. The poem urges faithful proclamation of this timeless message: Christ crucified, risen, and reigning—offering the same salvation today as always, despite any contemporary mockery or pressure to conform.In essence, it celebrates the Gospel’s immutability as a strength, not a flaw, and calls believers to proclaim it boldly in every generation.

The ancient Gospel rings through changeless years,
No varnish fresh, no tint of modern hue,
The selfsame tidings that once quelled men’s fears
Still pierce the heart as sharp as ever true.

Though empires rise and crumble into dust,
Though fashions whirl and philosophies decay,
The cross stands fixed where mercy met with trust,
And blood once shed still washes sin away.

No council’s vote, no age’s shifting creed
Can add or take one jot from what was given;
The Word endures, the message all men need—
Christ crucified, Christ risen, Christ in heaven.

Proclaim Him still, though mocking voices rise:
The same salvation lives, the same, the prize.

Swallowed and TransfiguredThe Contemplative Act Whereby Ezekiel Partook of the Scroll of Woeand Discovered the Hidden Sweetness of Union with the Divine Will by Debbie Harris

15 Sunday Feb 2026

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

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Ezekiel 2:9–10
Then I looked, and behold, a hand was extended to me; and behold, a scroll of a book was in it. When He spread it out before me, it was written on the front and back, and written on it were lamentations, mourning, and woe.

Ezekiel 3:1–3
And He said to me, “Son of man, eat what you find; eat this scroll, and go, speak to the house of Israel.” So I opened my mouth, and He fed me this scroll. He said to me, “Son of man, feed your stomach and fill your body with this scroll which I am giving you.” Then I ate it, and it was sweet as honey in my mouth.

Ezekiel 3:14
So the Spirit lifted me up and took me away; and I went embittered in the rage of my spirit, and the hand of the Lord was strong on me.

No gentle volume offered to the hand,
No silken page to turn with measured care:
A scroll unfurled in flame, on either hand
Lamentation, mourning, woe laid bare.

“Son of man,” the voice resounds through bone,
“Eat what lies before thee—fill thy frame.
Devour the writing, leave no line unshown,
Make judgment’s ink the substance of thy name.”

I parted lips as one who meets his fate,
And took the roll entire upon my tongue;
The taste of honey flooded palate, throat,
While gall of sorrow pressed where breath is sung.

Yet sweeter grew the sweetness as I chewed—
Not honey stolen from the summer comb,
But honey born of perfect will subdued,
Of love that wounds to heal the heart’s deep home.

O mystery of eating strange and deep!
The Word descends not to the outward ear,
But deeper, past the tongue’s dividing keep,
Into the belly’s cavern dark and sheer.

There in the crypt of self the scroll dissolves,
Its bitter script transmuted into light;
What once was woe the inner furnace solves,
And turns to sweetness burning through the night.

No longer separate, the man and message blend—
The prophet is the lament he must bear;
His sinews bear the weight that God would send,
His breath the very sigh of heaven’s prayer.

Thus swallowed whole, the soul is lifted high,
Transfigured in the act of full consent;
The hidden sweetness blooms where tears once lie,
And union with the Will is sacrament.

Let others skim the surface of the page,
Debate its edges, quote its phrases bright:
The true disciple enters that fierce stage
Where eating is the only way to sight.

For God requires not admirers mild,
Nor connoisseurs of sacred text and lore—
He seeks the one whose inmost self is styled
By every syllable the scroll once bore.

So eat, O pilgrim, let the honey stay,
Though sorrow churn the stomach in its course;
The Word, once taken in, will never stray—
It is the life, the way, the very source.

Not Hearers Who Forget, But Doers Who Persevere: Freedom Flowing from Finished Grace by Debbie Harris

15 Sunday Feb 2026

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

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Do not be hearers only, swift to forget,
But doers of the word implanted deep within;
For in the gospel’s glass your true face is set—
A new creation, cleansed from every sin.

The old law bound with chains of condemnation,
Exposed the flaw but offered no release;
Yet Christ has fulfilled it—perfect liberation—
The law of liberty, granting perfect peace.

Look long into this mirror, see who you are:
Righteous in Him, beloved, fully known;
Not striving now to earn the Father’s star,
But resting in the grace that He has shown.

If you forget and walk as slaves once more,
Deceived by shadows of the former night,
But persevering, acting from His store,
You find the blessing—freedom’s pure delight.

No threat of failure haunts the child of God,
No pressure weighs upon the ransomed soul;
The doing flows from what the cross has bought—
Alive in Christ, made perfect, free, and whole.

So gaze and remember, let the truth abide,
Live from the glory already given thee;
In every step, His Spirit is your guide—
Blessed in the doing, for you’re His eternally.

Arise and Rejoice: The Words I Speak Unto You, They Are Spirit and Life—Our Supreme Treasure, Heavenly Wealth, Unfailing Wisdom, and More Than Conquerors Victory Forever by Debbie Harris

14 Saturday Feb 2026

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Arise, ye saints, and shout the victory cry!
The Holy Bible, blazing like the sun,
Outshines all gold, all crowns that mortals buy,
Our boundless treasure when the world is done.
No vault can hold what floods from every page—
Eternal riches, wisdom none can steal;
In Christ all treasures shine from age to age,
Our sword, our shield, our joy that wounds can heal.

The words I speak unto you, they are spirit and life—
Not empty breath, but thunder clothed in grace!
They shatter chains, they end the reign of strife,
And raise the fallen to a kingly place.
Rejoice! This Book our wealth, our wisdom, our might:
We conquer death—we live in endless light!

No Trumpets, Only Lamps: Enduring Faith in a Gospel-Rejecting World by Debbie Harris

12 Thursday Feb 2026

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

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No Trumpets, Only Lamps: Enduring Faith in a Gospel-Rejecting World is a meditative poem in classical rhyming couplets that explores how believers are called to live faithfully in a culture that has largely rejected the gospel.It portrays the present era as “sin-sick” and darkened, where truth is scorned and former wrongs are celebrated. Rather than responding with loud confrontation, forced persuasion, or retreat into isolation, Christians are depicted as quiet pilgrims and watchmen: offering mercy, forgiving preemptively, speaking the gospel gently amid mockery, planting gardens in exile, and setting tables for the estranged.The poem emphasizes humble, costly witness—bearing the gospel as broken bread and cool water rather than a sword or banner, holding a lowly light so that even the spiritually blind may feel its warmth. It acknowledges the heavy nights of discouragement and the weight of rejection, yet counters them with glimpses of unmerited grace and the assurance of God’s unchanging love.The closing stanza turns toward patient hope: the faithful do not crave human approval but labor and watch in quiet expectation, trusting that the Master will return at dawn and find them steadfast.In essence, the poem is an encouragement to persevere with humble, incarnational faithfulness—neither conquering nor withdrawing, but simply carrying the light until the Lord calls His people home.

In this sin-sick age, where gospel truth is spurned,
And men in darkness clap what once was mourned,
We dwell as pilgrims, steadfast, undismayed,
Not by the crowd’s acclaim, but by the Word obeyed.

No trumpets blast to force the deaf to hear,
No flight to hills where silence reigns austere;
But quiet witness in the market’s din—
A steady lamp where shadows gather in.

We offer mercy when the stones are cast,
Forgive before the penitent is asked;
We speak the old, unwelcome, saving name,
Though mocked as folly in this age of shame.

Like watchmen posted on the midnight tower,
We hold the vigil through the darkening hour;
The horn may sound, unheard by sleeping throng,
Yet faithfulness endures, though none prolong.

As exiles planting gardens in dry ground,
We set a table where no kin are found;
The cross remains though scaffolds rise anew—
Its victim’s love the age cannot undo.

Some nights the weight of scorn would make us fall,
The fevered tide seems to have drowned us all;
Yet grace slips in, unbidden, undeserved—
A stranger’s kindness, undeservedly preserved.

So bear the gospel, not as conquering sword,
Nor trophy bright, nor banner loudly roared,
But broken bread in hands that shake with care,
Cool water offered though the lips may swear.

A lowly light, held close that blind may feel
Its warmth before the eye can see it real.
We dwell not craving praise from men below,
But waiting for the dawn that God shall show—
Who bids us labor till the Master come,
And finds us watching when He calls us home.