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Stones


I heard a powerful message on Matthew 5:21-26. The sermon was illustrated by the pastor picking up stones to represent all the hurtful things people may say or do to us. Us clutching the stones to ourselves represents our sin. We have a choice each day to keep hanging on to those stones and murder people with our thoughts or to forgive.

In this poem I related it to my own journey through grief. I combined the teaching on Matthew with Psalm 2. If God is our refuge, how can we ...hang on to the stones? When we hang on to the stones, we rebel against the Lord and His sovereignty. What are your "stones"?

Stones were thrown at me One by one Carelessly and thoughtlessly When the grief was young I gathered them up Cradled them safely in my arms For I am making a collection And the collection is making me.

The weight of them with time has grown Rock piled upon rock Steadily and mightily They are my precious millstone I regard them all Rehearse them in my mind For I am making an idol And the idol is making me.

The stones hold memories Dark and deep Appallingly and destructively Bitterness and anger have become a keep I try to break free But the stones imprison tightly For the stones have made a stronghold And the stronghold is making me.

You make the stones fall One by one Compassionately and triumphantly The deed is done You transform pain With Your nail-marred hands For You alone are my refuge And my Refuge is making me.


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