The Simplicity of the Gospel

The Deep

Every time I stand on the shore,

The ocean tide arrives to meet me.

It calls me in; calls for more,

It calls me to claim a thing worth dying for.

In beckoning me, these waves draw back from the sand;

An invitation. They show me how to leave the land.

The deep in You is calling out to the deep in me,

For in my heart lives the sea.

And Your sea cries, “Come and live in Me!”

By Samantha Lindholm

Written April 28, 2012

America's Sick Heart

There is something sad and sick rolling in the heartland of America. It has a name and a thousand faces. It clings to our streets like the sludge of cars and sewers. Fathers, these are your daughters. Mothers, these are your sons. They are dying beneath the light of the sun.

This toxic thing is called human sex trafficking by some - or simply sex slavery by others. It is the sale of our sisters and brothers. They’re being bought and sold for sex and we see it, but we know it not. They are the shadows we see from the corners of our eyes. They are mists we barely notice – yes, theirs are those faintly ringing cries.

It isn’t just an oversea, out-of-sight problem. It is our problem. In 2005, we were only estimating. 100,000 to 150,000. A conservative estimate – probably many more. Hundreds of thousands of breaking hearts, dying behind closed doors.

America, land of the free and home of the brave, come and rise up for your little ones today. It’s not okay that the average age for our kids to become sex slaves is 11 years old. Those little girls should be playing in schools, getting married, watching happy years unfold. But they are locked in cages. They are starved for criminals’ wages. They are the casualties of a silent war because we aren’t yet sure what we’re looking for. America, America…

And I pray God sheds His grace on thee, and comes with truth to set us free.

By Samantha Lindholm
Written April 19, 2012

The Time it Took to Fall in Love

I would write a poem about how this song makes me feel, but this song really says it all the only way I could think of saying it.
-Samantha, April 19, 2012

October Baby

Hungry for that Poetry

I’m hungry for a poetry that craves the stars,

That reaches out with shivering skin to stroke

The great canvas of God’s loving-est whim.

I’m hungry for a poetry that isn’t about she and him –

Souls in the suspension of sticky misery. There

Are many of these – unfortunately. But

They don’t speak to that deep, resounding part of me.

Little of this do I find these days: the poetry

Ready on the sand to spring and catch the waves;

The poetry roaming the sparkling fields of new, dew-kissed days.

I’m hungry for a poetry that does more than ask who we are,

But walks down the hallway to the answer.

It – the answer – is not hidden under lock and key.

The door, I assure you, will open with ease; without a creak.

Then your tongue will dance and your lips commence to speak

And you will write marvelous poetry.

By Samantha Lindholm

Written April 12, 2012

Marble Philosophy

They say He’s philosophy –

Tarred and feathered religion.

They set Him, inlaid with marble and precious stones,

On their mantle-pieces.

How it would grieve the heart to ever live so -

Unaware and unwilling of what it would invigorate them to know!

By Samantha Lindholm

Written April 11, 2012

Haiku of Tired Teenager

Haiku of tired
Teenager is less profound
Than you expected.

By Samantha Lindholm
Written April 9, 2012

God is a Husband

God is a husband who died,

Who wept and who bled for His Bride.

His blood and the tears from His beautiful eyes

Make her white, make her clean again.

By Samantha Lindholm
Written April 3, 2012