Prisoners

We claim it’s just a need or habit that’s ingrained,
When we give in to our passions,
Or binge shop the latest fashions.
With media pressure, can we really be blamed?

We’re told material possessions show our worth.
New cars, big houses, latest phones,
Best technology in our homes,
We buy to keep up with the Joneses, then feign mirth.

We’re taught beauty is what we see on the outside,
Where skinny should be our desire,
And tall men are who we admire,
We seek wrinkle-free skin, and want teeth straight and white.

We’re conditioned to follow societal norms,
Sex with anyone is okay,
“Ev’ryone’s doing it,” they say.
We cuss and take God’s Name in vain, ’cause it conforms.

It’s all about us, living easy and pain-free.
“God doesn’t see or care,” we gripe,
Then we fall for the latest hype,
“I deserve it” and “I’m doing what’s best for me!”

We believe the lie that we’re gods in our own right,
Entitled to fleshly pleasure,
Owed our share of worldly treasure,
Shackled to our ego, we’re locked in a cage-fight.

Trapped in a cycle of shallow, selfish action,
We seek out love and approval,
Hoping for judgment removal,
And then wonder why there’s such dissatisfaction.

Are you being led by your own lustful desires?
Do you just want to feel needed?
Are you longing to be heeded?
Or are you driven by what someone else requires?

Are you after prestige from the things money buys?
Or is it acceptance you chase?
Does addiction dictate your race?
Does a quest for love or perfect looks draw your eyes?

Checking the boxes, crossing to-dos off a list,
Won’t provide what we’re looking for.
Those false paths leave our spirit poor.
This earth isn’t meant to fulfill our ev’ry wish.

Why do we let this world have such a hold on us?
The more we have, the more we want,
Our lives are wasted on the hunt,
Yet worldly gains are left behind when our time’s up.

Mind games, heart wounds, perversion, neglect, abuses.
The devil keeps us in bondage,
Chasing the idols of this age,
Focusing on ourselves, all tricks Satan uses.

Where’s your mind drift when first waking in the morning?
Note where your time and money goes.
Thoughts and words—what’s in your heart shows.
Those not bound by this world see this as a warning.

Choose eternal rewards over temporary,
Conformity leaves us empty,
True freedom through Jesus is key,
Despite the world’s programming to the contrary.

Nothing can compare to what Jesus freely gives!
What we’ve been or done, no concern,
His love and grace, we cannot earn.
Only He breaks strongholds, releasing the captives.

Run to Him—with open arms, He waits patiently.
There’s no pressure, we’re free to choose.
It’s a no-brainer, a win-lose.
But our choice destines where we’ll spend eternity.

©️ 2018-2022, https://linleyadams.com

Easter

Long ago, the Scriptures foretold
how these events were to unfold.
His triumphal entry into town
with cloaks and branches thrown down,
Palm Sunday, was a sight to behold.

By midweek, preparations were made
for the Passover meal, when he prayed
for the new covenant bread and wine
passed round the table as they reclined,
and true servanthood he displayed.

That night, praying in Gethsemane,
He begged, “Father, take this cup from me.”
But He wanted God’s will done, not his,
so Judas betrayed Him with a kiss,
bribed with money by the enemy.

The vile condition of man’s heart
meant His trial was rigged from the start
and just as Jesus prophesied,
Peter, three times his Lord denied,
while others were quick to depart.

No false witness or insult barred,
lead-tipped whips and fists left Him scarred,
with crown of thorns and mock worship,
stoically, Jesus stayed tight-lipped,
though character and body marred.

In ignorance, soldiers tossed dice.
Willingly, Jesus paid the price.
Nailed to the cross, by hands and feet,
done out of love, for you and me,
He made the ultimate sacrifice.

He took on Himself the whole world’s sin.
Repulsed by evil, God turned from Him.
The temple’s curtain split, the earth shook,
even doubters took a second look.
He breathed his last under skies gone dim.

The plan for His life from before the womb
now finished, Joseph laid Him in his tomb,
with entrance blocked and sealed by a boulder,
guarded either side by an armed soldier.
Disillusioned, disciples headed home.

Women with spices came early, day three,
to find angels at His tomb, now empty.
“Why look for the living among the dead?
He is risen! Remember what he said?”
Hundreds witnessed Jesus in Galilee.

Resurrection glory! Overwhelming love!
Redemption, in human form, sent from above.
Undeserved grace and mercy, personified.
For us, to approach a Holy God, He died.
Man’s foolish wisdom will never be enough.

©️ 2018-2022, https://linleyadams.com

He L❤️ves Me

❤️❤️❤️❤️

His love, his love
called to my soul before I knew him
My love, my love
is fickle and changes on a whim
but he still loves me

His love, his love
is unfathomably forgiving
My love, my love
is misguided, rash, and self-serving
but he still loves me

His love, his love
is sacrificial and generous
My love, my love
is conditional and covetous
but he still loves me

His love, his love
looks inside and sees what’s in my heart
My love, my love
is drawn to things that pull us apart
but he still loves me

His love, his love
is detailed in his many letters
My love, my love
is owed—he freed me from my fetters
but he still loves me

His love, his love
is forever and extravagant
My love, my love
matters not—it is irrelevant
’cause he still loves me

His love, his love
fills my cup and satisfies my need
My love, my love
now His, flowing to others through me
Proves he loves them too

©️ 2017-2022  https://linleyadams.com

Who Am I?

Who am I?
You knit me in my mother’s womb.
You chose my where, my when, my whom,
Then replanted me where I’d bloom.
God knows best, I’ve got to assume.

Who am I?
It’s only You who really knows.
My coloring, build, eyes and nose,
Quirks, strengths, passions—You gave me those
Even though there’s some who’d oppose.

Who am I?
If people knew what was in my past
they might judge, even be aghast
But You made me, without the mask
To glorify You, my life task.

Who am I?
A cracked vessel some might despise,
Of great worth in my Savior’s eyes.
An example for the streetwise
Of how, to them, Your love applies.

Who am I?
Impure clay in the Potter’s hand,
In need of constant reprimand,
Which makes it hard to understand
Why You’d be my number one fan.

Who am I?
You know my name, number my hairs,
And listen for my whispered prayers.
Ready to take on all my cares,
To hold me close and calm my fears.

Who am I?
Your Son died for me, took my shame,
Showed perfect love and cast no blame.
You seek the lost, blind, deaf, and lame
To save by grace, no works to claim.

Who am I?
No longer lost, no longer blind,
Now lavished with Your love divine,
Part of Your plan, Your grand design,
You knew me long before my time.

Who am I?
Just under angels, made to be
In Your image, the Trinity.
Your Holy Spirit lives in me.
Truth broke my shackles—I’m set free!

Who am I?
My soul belongs to You, bar none.
The battle’s fought, already won.
Debts paid in full by Your own Son
Freely offered to everyone.

Who am I?
I’m a child of the One True King,
Once dead, now among the living,
Forgiven for everything,
Praise Your Name, You’re worth worshipping!

©️ 2018-2022, https://linleyadams.com

The Real Christmas

Lord, help us remember the real reason
We celebrate this blessed Christmas season.
It’s just way too easy, I must confess,
For us to forget in the busyness—
Decorating, parties, and shopping clicks,
Holiday baking, lines for Santa pics,
Tree trimming, wrapping gifts, hanging the lights,
Watching feel-good movies on snowy nights,
Hot chocolate drinks in front of the fireplace,
Gathered round the table, stuffing our face,
Clinking our glasses with holiday cheer,
We wash it down with eggnog, wine, or beer.

Although these things aren’t so bad in themselves,
Christmas gets lost among the North Pole elves
Busy in the workshop with old Saint Nick
In his red suit and hat, with beard so thick,
Loading the reindeer’s sleigh with bags of toys
To deliver to all good girls and boys.
Little ones wake smiling, with sparkling eyes,
Excited, expecting Santa’s surprise.
Meanwhile, Your Perfect Gift is forgotten
With parents spoiling their children rotten
And the age-old story of Jesus’ birth
Takes second place behind open-gift mirth.

Of course, the devil loves our distraction
And revels in society’s sanction
Of commercialization and the scheme
To not offend people with the Christ theme.
As we distance ourselves, the blame we place
On an aloof God not showing his face
When, for centuries, we’ve had Your Good Book
That proves you’re alive, if only we’d look.
As if God and Santa are just the same
We want handouts, yet in vain take your Name.
Like a genie in a bottle, we wish
For wealth, fame, dreams fulfilled, all things selfish.

In our self-focus, we forget Your Son,
The Way, Truth, and Life, the Anointed One,
Lamb of God, our Savior, showed us the way
To put others first and how to obey.
Fully man, fully God, he was tempted
But remained sinless, so he preempted
The devil’s ruse and secured us so well,
We have a future in heaven, not hell.
Christ’s lowly birth is how it all started.
Now God and man can never be parted.
Lord, thank You for gently reminding us
Of the reason we celebrate Christmas.

©️ 2017-2022, https://linleyadams.com

About Face

Vainly, I wish my
Complexion
Wasn’t in need of
Correction.
Every perceived
Imperfection
I see as cause for
Rejection.
Ignoring inner
Objection,
I seek elusive
Perfection.

So I’d look at my
Reflection
With a little more
Affection,
I consider the
Selection
of gel or botox
Injection,
Pitched with a salesman’s
Inflection,
from a skin doctor’s
Collection.

But with requisite
Circumspection,
I decide to change
Direction
as a form of self-
Protection
to avoid needle
Subjection
and reduce risk of
Detection
from people’s judging
Inspection.

After intensive
Introspection,
I struggle at an
Intersection
near the threshold of
Dejection
mixed with borderline
Insurrection
over our culture’s
Deflection
and the enemy’s
Misdirection.

Using attitude
Redirection,
With positive thought
Interjection
And negative thought
Ejection,
I feast on Scripture
Confection,
Recalling my Lord’s
Predilection
for a personal
Connection.

After some blessing
Retrospection,
I smile at the fond
Recollection
Of my before-birth
Preselection.
Witness to God’s great
Affection,
Jesus sacrificed
Perfection
To save through death and
Resurrection.

Christ suffered blatant
Rejection
And a spear to His
Midsection,
To atone for my
Imperfection.
Transformed through divine
Correction,
Now my thoughts, words, and
Complexion
Radiate the Son’s
Reflection.

©️ 2017-2022, https://linleyadams.com