Category Archives: chinstell’s poetry

chinstell’s poetry is an out pour of indepth thoughts. It is hoped that the reader would relate to this deep well of emotions as they drink from each line.

Blank Canvass > You Are Not An Accident

  . The birth of each existing life was not an accident. Parents might not have planned to have their children but they were not unplanned by God. Our births were expected by God, long before we were conceived. We were not a product of chance, fate, luck or coincidence but we are alive because God desired to create us.

      According to Psalm 139:5 ‘You know me inside out, you know every bone in my body; you know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something’ so, precisely, God prescribed every single detail of our bodies. He deliberately chose our race, complexion, skin, hair and eye colour, height, nationality and every other feature. He uniquely designed our personality too. He determined the natural talents and gifts we would possess and the family we would be born into, the day of our birth, how long we’ll live on earth and the day of our death. In fact, we are casts for God’s perfect script. 

 

        The reason and motive for our creation is his love for us. He is a God of love and love is the core of His character. Ephesians 1:14 ‘long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love’. He had us in mind before He created the world. And we are the most valuable of all His creation. We would all be ‘accidents’ if there was no God. But there’s a God who created us for a beautiful purpose and that purpose would only be discovered if we make Him the reference point of our lives.  

Tales of Woe

He finally succumbed to peer pressure
Like a fox, it cunningly stole his treasure
There was more to it, he love it
Being with the ‘saints’ became his delight and pleasure
Tick tick went the clock
Time at him began to mock
Twenty, fifty, then sixty began to knock
Alas! He was awoken!
Countless missed opportunities
Too late to mourn
Faded youthful abilities,
Slowly but steadily they did burn
No second chance
On his sixty first day, death blew it’s horn.

Posted by chinstell