Blog, Poetry

Have you ever sensed God’s spirit speaking to you or perhaps clearly heard His voice? As I suspect is true for most believers, those precious times are few and far between. But, for me, when they occur it’s akin to hearing music in the deep of a babbling brook or the quiet of a still morning breeze. Yet His voice comes with a persistent nudge that’s recognizable to my wanting soul. 

After a recent desert-dry couple of months, my spirit longed for, even thirsted, for the living water that only Jesus can give. It wasn’t that I was depressed or going through some terrible trial, yet the spiritual funk that plagued me may as well have been. Perhaps that’s why the silence of the morning spoke so loudly I couldn’t ignore it. 

My husband and I were on a much-needed vacation along the coast of Southern California in a home with a stunning view. It was our last day there when it happened—He spoke. As I sat gazing out the large picture window at the shimmering quiet waters of a harbor and gasping at the beauty of crashing waves on the distant shore, a stirring came. I sensed God’s spirit at the door of my mind’s ear. So, I leaned-in harder than a deaf man straining to hear life-giving news—listening intently to what God was saying. 

Slowly and surely, words began to filter through the fog of my own understanding. I quickly  recognized his voice from times past and knew the sensation that rang in my soul. Though lacking audible words, the Spirit urged— listen deeply. So, I sat listening for His still quiet voice. 

For me, one common way my Lord speaks to my spirit is through poetic rhyme. It might be a new song with music and lyrics or a simple poem He wants to write in my heart. Only and very rarely, have I ever heard His voice speak a message with an inner kind of audible voice. Most of the time, if I hear God speak to me it’s in poetic rhyming form. 

I’ve often had friends ask why I wrote a particular poem or song. They want to know what I was trying to convey through it or what method I used to write it. Do I think about some topic or read about something that inspires me? Do I sit down and determine to write a poem or song that expresses something I want to say? When those questions come, I mostly smile and say no, it came through listening. 

In John 10: 4 & 27 (NIV), Jesus says, “…for they know His voice… My sheep listen to my voice.” About 25 years ago, while out among a flock of sheep, those verses came to life as never before. A shepherd had given me and a friend permission to walk among his flock during the time when many little lambs were nursing. Quietly moving among them, I heard a wide variety of sheep bleating to one another. It was like hearing a chorus of alto, soprano and tenor tones in sheep voices. Then as one of them began loudly bleating, I noticed a little lamb suddenly leap and bound towards the adult sheep at the top of a hill. The lamb was responding to its’ mother’s call to come for breakfast. That’s when it hit me that even sheep recognize and discern individual voices including other sheep and their shepherd’s voice. 

So, as Jesus said, we should also recognize the voice of our Good Shepherd.  

From that day on, I’ve made a point of listening closely to my Lord’s voice when I sense He is speaking. I’ve also learned that when He gives me a message, it’s not for my edification—He wants me to share it with others. So, it’s no wonder I tuned-in with spirit-sharpened ears when He spoke this poem into me and now want to share it.

Into My Sunset

Quiet is the call,

And noble is the fall,

That brings me to my knees before thee.

Crystal shimmers sway,

And come to me this way,

Reflecting love’s light,

your beauty there to move me.

Roar of the waves 

the sound of it saves,

my wandering heart and crashes.

Lifting to the Son,

back up again to run,

this race called life before me.

Sail-empty masts lift high

to the sky with a task

and beckon your wind to give purpose to them.

So, also my arms do raise,

Lifting high to you in praise. 

Empty of me 

and only to thee. 

Safe within your harbor 

my days sail by,

whether in water or wanting and dry.

Catching breath’s wind,

From your spirit within.

Grace-laid plans move me out from the shore,

confident now of your love evermore.

And when my time comes

to meet horizon’s One

who defines death from life,

my mast will be set with a pure white sail,

not formed by my strife,

but by cross and blood-stained nails. 

Then, into my sunset, I’ll sail to His bright Son,

and be anchored there forever to the Holy one. 

                                                Iris Carignan, September 2023

I hope this poem inspires you and puts the wind of His Spirit in the sail of your heart

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