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O Boundless Mercy, Matchless Worth: A Hymn of Redemption’s Embrace by Debbie Harris

09 Tuesday Dec 2025

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Inspirational, Praise

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The poem traces the breathtaking journey of a soul under the gaze of a holy God.It begins with unflinching honesty: Jesus Christ sees everything, every hidden sin, every hypocritical prayer, every tear we refused to cry, and the spiritual death we carried while pretending to live.Yet the moment a person truly repents (when pride finally breaks, when the heart turns back with nothing to offer but its own ruin), everything changes. Mercy pours like an ocean without shores, grace covers completely, and divine love stoops from heaven to embrace the unworthy. The Judge Himself becomes the sacrifice, paying the price on Calvary.No earthly treasure or human achievement can compare to this gift: to be completely known in all our shame, yet completely loved, forgiven, cleansed, and (astonishingly) crowned with heavenly honor.In short, the poem celebrates the heart of the gospel: God’s boundless mercy and matchless grace transform the most broken sinner into a beloved, glorified child welcomed home forever.

Our Savior sees the hidden stain,
The secret sin, the silent shame;
Each thought that shuns the light of day,
Each wandering step that went astray.

He knows the heart that feigned to pray,
The lips that lied, the hands that strayed;
He marks the tears we never shed,
The living death where hope has fled.

Yet when the broken spirit turns,
When pride dissolves and sorrow burns,
When empty hands at last confess
Their ruin and unrighteousness—

Then mercy, like a boundless sea,
Flows from the throne of Calvary;
Then grace, unmeasured and unstinted,
Covers the soul once foul and tainted.

Love bends the heavens, comes down low,
To kiss the brow once bent with woe;
The Judge becomes the Ransom price,
And God Himself is sacrifice.

No gift beneath the stars above,
No treasure born of human love,
Can match this wonder, pure and free—
Redeeming grace on Calvary’s tree.

O boundless mercy, matchless worth!
The greatest gift on sinful earth:
To be fully known, yet fully loved,
Forgiven, cleansed, and crowned in heaven above.

Take Heed, Whom You Hear: A Warning and a Call to Be Nobler Than the Bereans by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Dec 2025

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

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Summary of the Poem

“Take Heed, Whom You Hear: A Warning and a Call to Be Nobler Than the Bereans”

The poem is a stark warning against false teachers who serve Satan with refined skill. These “ministers” appear polished, eloquent, and attractive, presenting deadly error disguised as truth: poison poured slowly into a beautiful golden cup that tastes, at first, like living water.

It urges extreme caution (“Take heed, take heed”) about whose voice we allow into our hearts, because many speak of Christ and quote Scripture while neither knowing Him nor fearing God. Their message flatters and comforts, but it never convicts or transforms.

In contrast, the poem lifts up the Bereans of Acts 17 as the enduring model: ordinary believers who refused to accept even apostolic preaching at face value. Night after night they searched the Scriptures to verify every claim, turning over every glittering cup to see what was really inside.

The closing call is both a prayer and a resolve:
May we be even more noble than they were; children of the second look; jealous guardians of truth who spill out every honeyed lies and drink only from the pure, plain water of God’s Word, until the day we see Christ face to face.

In essence, the poem is a passionate plea for relentless biblical discernment in an age of sophisticated deception.

The devil keeps his ministers,
polished, soft-spoken, and wise;
they come with velvet syllables,
a smile that never hurts the eyes.
They pour the ancient poison slow
into a cup of beaten gold;
one sip tastes just like living water,
the next leaves the soul stone-cold.

Take heed, take heed, O traveler,
whose heart is hungry heart you feed;
not every voice that speaks of heaven
is climbing there on bended knee.
Some preach a Christ they never met,
and quote the Book they never feared;
their gospel shines like burnished brass
that leaves the ear caressed, not seared.

But there were souls in Berea once
who would not swallow gleaming lies;
they took the word back to the Word
and held it trembling to the skies.
Night after night they searched the page,
noble, stubborn, unafraid,
till every glittering cup was turned
and every lying promise weighed.

So let us be Bereans still,
children of the second look,
refusing honeyed draughts of death
for the plain water of the Book.
Though Satan send his choicest cup
rimmed round with light and rimmed with song,
we’ll spill it out upon the ground
and drink where living waters run.

Lord, make us wary, make us bold,
make us jealous for the truth;
give us hearts that tremble at Thy Word
and hands that will not clasp the smooth.
For every age has its golden cups;
only the Scripture never lies;
so we will search, and search again
until we see Thee with open eyes.

From Heaven’s Throne to Bethlehem’s Manger: A Christmas Hymn for All Ages by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Dec 2025

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Christmas, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Verse 1
The eternal Light has come to men,
Born in the midnight deep;
The Word made flesh in Bethlehem
Fulfills what prophets keep.
A stable holds the King of kings,
The heavens bow before Him;
All glory be to Christ who brings
Redemption’s open door hymn.

Refrain
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Verse 2
The shepherds heard the angel throng
Proclaim the wondrous birth;
They hastened where the Child was laid
And spread the news on earth.
No palace cradle, straw His bed,
Yet there the Lord reposes;
The Lamb of God, the Living Bread,
In lowly manger closes.

Refrain
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Verse 3
From eastern lands the wise men came,
Led by the star’s bright ray;
With gold and myrrh and frankincense
They worshiped and obeyed.
The Gentile world now finds its King,
The nations see salvation;
Let every tongue His praises sing,
Let every heart’s ovation.

Refrain
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Verse 4
The heavens rang with angel song,
The skies were filled with light;
Yet Mary pondered everything
Within her heart that night.
O silent Mother, full of grace,
Who kept the sacred treasure,
Thy Son shall save the human race
Beyond all time and measure.

Refrain
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Verse 5
The ancient curse is broken now,
The serpent’s head is crushed;
In David’s town, the promised Child
Has hushed the world once hushed.
No more shall darkness hold its sway,
The Dayspring shines forever;
The Light of Life has dawned today,
And night shall fall, no never.

Refrain
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Verse 6
Come, sinner, leave thy guilt behind,
Come, weary, find thy rest;
The Savior born this holy morn
Invites thee to His breast.
The door of mercy open stands,
The feast of love is ready;
Lift high thy voice, lift high thy hands,
Thy Savior comes in steady.

Refrain
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Verse 7
When years have passed and ages roll,
When sun and stars grow dim,
Still shall the Church with one accord
Sing this eternal hymn.
Till Christ shall come in glory bright
To end all earthly story,
We’ll sing through endless day and night:
All glory be His glory!

Refrain (sung twice to close)
Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Glory, glory in the highest,
Peace on earth, good will to men!
Sing, O sing the ageless story:
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Glory, glory in the highest—
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

“I Will Remember Their Sin No More”A Hymn on the Triumph of Divine Love over Divine Omniscience by Debbie Harris

06 Saturday Dec 2025

Posted by in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving

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When God beholds the sinner’s scroll,
 He finds no stain remains;
The debt is paid, the breach made whole,
 Forgiven are his chains.

Though every fault lies bare to sight
 Beneath th’ all-seeing eye,
Yet love, more strong than boundless light,
 Refuses memory’s cry.

Omniscience could rehearse the fall,
 Recount each wandering trace;
But mercy overrules it all
 And grants a spotless place.

The Judge who knows all things aright
 Declares the record clean;
For Christ has borne the darkened night
 And washed away the sin.

No charge shall rise on judgment day,
 No guilt shall e’er return;
The Lord who blotted sins away
 Hath sworn He will not turn.

O depth of covenant grace divine,
That love should silence lore!
The past is lost in love’s design—
God remembers sin no more.

When Pulpits Are Full of Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

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

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The poem is a stark warning against false teachers and hypocritical leaders who hide predatory motives behind religious appearances.

It paints the image of wolves dressed as gentle pastors who use Scripture, soft words, and promises of blessing to manipulate, guilt-trip, and financially exploit vulnerable believers. Beneath polished sermons and smiling faces lie greed, control, and spiritual abuse.

The true Shepherd (Christ) is contrasted with these impostors: He was the Lamb who was slain and still bears scars; the wolves only pretend to carry His marks while they devour the flock.

The urgent call is to the Church: wake up, test every spirit, and return to the authentic voice of the Good Shepherd. When pulpits are occupied by deceivers, genuine safety and guidance are found not in impressive buildings or charismatic leaders, but in personal intimacy with Jesus—alone with the Scriptures and the Holy Spirit, on your knees, listening for the One who knows and calls His sheep by name.

In short: Discern the wolves, reject the counterfeit, and cling only to the true Shepherd who keeps you close and speaks louder than the predators.

The sanctuary glows with stained-glass lies,
soft light on velvet pews,
while at the lectern stands the wolf
in starched collar, gentle voice,
quoting Scripture like a lullaby
to hush the trembling sheep.

He speaks of love with honeyed fangs,
promises heaven for a tithe,
teaches grace while counting coins
beneath the table with clawed feet.
His smile is Sunday-morning bright,
his eyes are midnight counting sheep
not for shepherding,
but for slaughter.

Beware the shepherd who smells of blood
yet wears the fleece of the flock he flees.
His gospel is a gilded trap,
his prayer a noose of pretty words.
He preys upon the widow’s mite,
devours the orphan’s cry,
and calls it ministry.

The true Lamb once was slain;
these wolves merely dress the part.
They howl in minor keys of guilt
and call the trembling “lost,”
then lead the flock to private pastures
where the grass is green with greed.

O Church, awake!
Your watchmen sleep with open mouths
and dreaming teeth.
Test every spirit, weigh each word
against the ancient plumb line
carved by nails into a tree.

When pulpits are full of wolves in sheep’s clothing,
the only safe place left
is on your knees,
not in their sanctuaries,
but in the wild,
where the Good Shepherd still calls
by name,
and knows His own
by scars.

A Hymn To The Beauty To Our Lord And Savior Jesus Christ, King Of Kings And Lord Of Lords by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Nov 2025

Posted by in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Praise

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The poem is a reverent contemplation of the surpassing, inexhaustible beauty of Jesus Christ. It declares that no human words, art, or lifespan can ever fully capture His loveliness: His face outshines the dawn, His eyes hold depths greater than the sea, and even the fairest flowers and the sun itself grow dim before Him.

His pierced hands and sacred wounds, once marks of suffering, now radiate eternal glory and serve as the very gates of heaven. Angels and elders in heaven veil their faces and cast down their crowns in ceaseless worship of the Lamb who was slain.

Yet on earth, time is too short and mortal hearts too limited to comprehend or express even a fraction of this beauty. A thousand ages would still leave the soul stammering in awe.

The closing strophe turns to hope: although no one sees Him in fullness now, to all who are born again God has promised the day when faith will become sight. Then, face to face with the unveiled Christ, they will at last drink in the complete splendor of His beauty and love Him perfectly forever.

In mortal sphere where fleeting shadows fall,
There walks a Form that holds the heart in thrall;
No tongue of man, though eloquent it be,
Hath power to speak the tenth part of His beauty.

His countenance is fairer than the morn
When first it gilds the dew-besilvered thorn;
His eyes are deeper than the midnight sea,
Yet soft as light that breaks on Galilee.

The rose of Sharon pales before His cheek,
The lily of the valley seems less meek;
The sun itself, in all its golden pride,
Doth veil its face when He is glorified.

His hands, once pierced, now bear the radiant scars
That shine more bright than all the evening stars;
His wounds, once red with sorrow’s bitter wine,
Are now the gates whereby the soul divine
Doth enter bliss and drink eternal day,
Where grief is lost and tears are wiped away.

The seraphim before His throne fall low,
Veiling their wings in reverent glow;
The four-and-twenty elders cast their crowns
And chant new anthems to the Lamb that drowns
All lesser music in its boundless tide
Of love that flowed when on the Cross He died.

Yet mortal years are all too brief a span
To trace the glory of the Son of Man;
A thousand ages, bright as seraphs’ wings,
Would find the heart still poor and stammering.

O Beauty ancient, yet for ever new,
O endless Light that mortal eye ne’er knew
In fullness here; yet to the born-again
Thy promise stands, immutable, clear, and plain:
They shall behold Thy face in unveiled might,
And, ravished, drink the plenitude of light,
Where faith shall yield to sight, and sight adore
The Lamb upon the throne for evermore.

More to Be Desired Are They Than Gold,Yea, Than Much Fine Gold by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Nov 2025

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

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The poem is a single, soaring hymn of praise to the Holy Bible as the living, life-giving Word of God.

It begins with the human soul lying dead in the dust of sin and despair, then shows how the gentle rain of Scripture falls upon that dust and causes new life to spring forth, green, fragrant, and rejoicing.

From there it traces the entire pilgrimage of the believer:

  • The Bible becomes a chain of steady lamps along the dangerous, narrow path, turning midnight into morning.
  • Its promises taste sweeter than wild honey dripping from the rock.
  • When enemies weave nets of lies, Scripture flashes like a sword of fire and sets the captive free.
  • Before dawn, hungry souls rise to meet the Word and find fresh manna, warm and fragrant, every single morning.
  • The heart learns to love God’s commandments more than the richest king loves his glittering treasure, and living rivers burst forth within.
  • Finally, Scripture binds, seals, and nails the soul fast to God, transforming trembling sinners into joyful, unshakable trees planted by rivers of water, whose leaves never wither and whose fruit never fails.

The whole movement is one of resurrection, guidance, delight, deliverance, sustenance, and everlasting fruitfulness, all flowing from the open pages of the Holy Bible. It is a universal prayer that every heart on earth would come to love, trust, and live in this Word that is forever settled in heaven, more precious than thousands of pieces of gold and silver, and able to make the simple wise unto everlasting life.

In short: the poem celebrates the Holy Bible as the inexhaustible treasure that revives the dead, guides the lost, feeds the hungry, frees the captive, and keeps the redeemed forever alive in the presence of God.

Let every heart that once lay prone in dust
be raised beneath the gentle rain of Scripture;
the Holy Bible falls like mercy’s mist,
and withered ribs put on the green of life,
breathing the fragrance of a risen race.

Let every pilgrim faltering on the steep,
where pride’s loose stones betray the trembling foot,
behold the lamps of God’s own Word hung deep
along the narrow way; the sacred page
turns midnight into morning, and each step
rings clear upon the height with heaven’s light.

Let every tongue that hungers taste and say
how verses of the Holy Bible melt
more sweet than honey dripping from the rock;
one line, and barren souls become a sea
of golden wheat beneath a harvest moon,
where quiet winds of peace forever move.

When lying cords are woven through the gloom
to snare the innocent, let Scripture rise
like sudden sunrise on a blade of steel;
the nets fall black and burned, the captives rise
laughing beneath a sky the Word has flung
wide open with its everlasting light.

Before the lark awakes, before the dew
has vanished from the grass, let watchers keep
their silent vigil with the open Book,
and find warm manna broken in their hands,
fresh from the Holy Bible every dawn,
still fragrant with the breath of God Himself.

Let every heart love Scripture more than kings
love coffers heaped with gold and glittering stone;
let living waters from its pages leap
on crystal wings and sweep old sins away.

Bind every soul with cords no storm can sever,
seal every spirit on the arm of Love,
drive every thought like nails the Word drives home;
so shall the trembling stand in perfect peace,
and joy shall clothe them like a wedding dress.

For lo, the Holy Bible stands enthroned
in heaven’s height, a star no darkness dims;
and all who graft their lives upon its truth
become fair trees beside the river of God,
whose leaves shall never fade, whose fruit is sure
through summer’s blaze and winter’s longest night.

Amen.

“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.

One Savior, One Song, One King: Sonnet of a Heart Tuned Forever to the Praise of the Lamb Who Was Slain by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Nov 2025

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

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Romans 11:33–36 (KJV)

³³ O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!
³⁴ For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor?
³⁵ Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again?
³⁶ For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen.

From Him the morning breaks and stars are born,
Through Him the cross, the empty tomb, the grace;
His wounded hands still hold the world He swore
To buy with blood and crown with royal race.
No breath is mine but what His mercy gave,
No crown I’ll wear but what His sorrow wrought;
Each moment, talent, tear, from cradle-grave
Is owed, is owned, is only His by right.
Then let no rival glory claim one sigh—
No dream, no fear, no pleasure steal His due;
My waking, working, weeping, living, die:
All fuel to blaze one fire forever true.
To Him alone be glory, now, alway;
My heart, my life, my all—His endless day.

Of Him, through Him, and to Him alone
are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen.

Of Him, Through Him, and to Him Alone: The One Eternal Desire of the Royally Redeemed by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Nov 2025

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

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Rooted in the doxology of Romans 11:36 (“For of Him, and through Him, and to Him are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen”), these three interconnected poems form a single, burning declaration:

  1. Everything that exists flows from God’s delight (Of Him).
  2. Everything that is saved was saved only through the blood of the Lamb (Through Him).
  3. Therefore everything that is saved now exists for one fierce, eternal purpose: to return all glory to Him alone (To Him).

The central message is that the royally redeemed (those purchased by Christ to be kings and priests) have only one true desire: that no rival glory—big or small, spectacular or mundane—ever steal what belongs to Jesus.

From the first breath of the morning to the last tear of the night, from spreadsheets to suffering, from triumphs to traffic, every moment is to be lived as fuel for the one fire that will never go out: the praise of His glory. There are no neutral seconds for a blood-bought soul. Worship is not a Sunday activity; it is the entire point of Monday through eternity.

The series ends with a jealous, joyful, lifelong Amen:
Only to Him.
Only forever.
Starting right now.

Only to Him be glory forever
—not just with our lips,
but with the stubborn, beautiful minutes of Monday morning.

We do not sing this in heaven only;
we begin it in traffic,
in the oncology ward,
in the 3 a.m. panic,
in the cubicle,
in the kitchen sink full of last night’s dishes.

Living for His glory forever means:

  • The alarm clock is answered because He is worthy of the day.
  • The spreadsheet is finished with excellence because half-hearted work insults the King who gave us minds.
  • The apology is offered quickly because unforgiveness robs Him of the praise due for the cross.
  • The paycheck is stewarded, the body is disciplined, the phone is put down at dinner—
    all because lesser gods keep trying to steal what was bought to be His alone.

Every ordinary step can thunder with eternity
when it is taken on the single road that leads back to the throne.

The royally redeemed have no neutral moments.
There is no “off-duty” for a purchased soul.
We eat to the glory of God.
We sleep to the glory of God.
We laugh, weep, text, vote, mow the lawn, change the diaper,
fight temptation, forgive the wound—
all of it is either fuel for His praise
or stolen kindling for some idol that will burn.

So we wake up jealous.
Not petty-jealous, but white-hot, worshipful jealous:
Let no rival have what is His.
Let no comfort, no ambition, no fear, no pleasure
sit on the throne that was paid for with blood.

Only to Him.
In the spectacular and in the small.
In the spotlight and in the unseen.
In the healing and in the hospital bed.
In the yes and in the long no.
In the wedding and in the funeral.
In the first breath of the day and the last sigh of the night.

Only to Him be glory
—not 99%,
not most of the time,
not when it’s convenient or emotionally moving.

Only.
Forever.
Starting right now.

Let the redeemed life be one long, unbroken echo:
“Whatever you do—whether you eat or drink or scroll or suffer or love or die—do it all to the glory of God.”
Because one day the echo becomes sight,
and every knee bows,
and every tongue confesses out loud what we practiced in secret:

Jesus Christ is Lord—
to the glory of God the Father.

Only to Him.
Forever.

Amen.
Let the day begin.