The Mystery of the God Man

The only unborn 

The creator and sustainer

The three-in-one ensconced in sweet community

Thought up this grand experiment of love

Brainstormed this big idea

Split the darkness, broke the silence, spoke the cosmos and it’s creatures into being

We, the creatures, once deceived, threw off our Father’s rule to follow our own will

And all seemed lost

But, The Holy God, the Spirit, filled up flesh in all his glory

The clockmaker took on the tick of time

The Word graced the page by entering the human story

And the origin of light

Laid bare the truth and made the shadows flee away

The sculptor morphed into clay

The good news wrapped itself in swaddling clothes

The wounded healer took on all our sickly woes

The gentle sage told us, showed us how to live

And the world watched in wonder

As the God Man strode the land

For we did not recognize him

We did not know the scent of our own breath

We did not know from whence we came

He came in love

To walk the lonesome road and hang upon the crooked tree 

To wash, with his own blood, the stain of sin

To sacrifice himself that, in believing, we may live with him eternally 

To battle death and win

To claim us as his children once again

To reunite us and invite us in

To glorious communion with our maker

Our risen Saviour

Reigning now and forever more

Hallelujah to the King of kings

Jesus Christ is Lord


Happy Easter! 🙂


Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: @pollyeloquent2 and don’t forget to mention that you’re a reader. Thanks for your time!


Your Hair is None of my Business

I was part of a conversation recently that disturbed me. Someone shared a story about a pastor friend. This pastor decided he’d like to try having long hair and began growing his hair out. When his hair reached a certain length, a deacon approached him, advising him IMG_5924to get a haircut. He kindly refused, saying he liked his hair the way it was. The deacon replied, “Well, do you like working here?” I couldn’t believe it. A church threatening termination of employment over a hairstyle. According to the person telling the story, the congregation had no other issues with the pastor, they were pleased with his ministry amongst them, they just didn’t fancy his long, gold-y locks.

I went from hearing this story to our Sunday morning church service. Our new pastor was asking for a physical response to the question, “Are you all in?” He wanted to know if we were committed to the mission of bringing in God’s Kingdom. There were artists on the platform with three large canvasses on which they had painted a defining landmark in our city, a high level railway bridge that’s over 100 years old. He wanted us to come up and make our mark on the canvas, a sign of our willingness. There were sponges and three background paint colours; yellow and green for the hills surrounding the bridge and blue for the sky. People began to spill into the aisles as he explained. He completed his instructions with, “and don’t go mixing up the colors.”

Still feeling angry over Pastor Rapunzel’s story, I knew I had two options. Either I wasn’t going up there or I was going to do the exact opposite of what our new leader wanted. goldenbackgrounds-and-textures-1889125__480Really, I only had one option, because I wasn’t interested in staying put in the pew as others indicated their “all-in-ness”. I got in line when there was a lull, knowing full well that I had no intention of conforming. When it was my turn, I soaked one of the sponges in yellow and splashed it with firm defiance across the three canvases where the blue of the sky was supposed to be. Who doesn’t like sunshine?

Why did I do this? For a number of reasons. I did it for a man who had to cut his hair to keep his job. I’m sure short hair wasn’t in his job description, but it was obviously an unwritten rule in that church. To me, it smacks of a lack of love and an emphasis on the wrong thing! God told Samuel, in the process of choosing David as the next king that “the Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward IMG_5925appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” Judging people by their appearance. That’s a worldly thing to do. If we’re to be like God, then we must begin to look past appearances. Was that church looking at their pastor’s heart when they approached him? No, they were chasing him with scissors and it’s never a good idea to run with scissors.

I did it for everyone whose ever felt judged at church, because of how they chose to express themselves. I did it for the mohawks and the piercings and the tattoos and the wrong clothes. I’m tired of hearing such stories. Who’re we to dictate how others wearIMG_5928 their hair or how they dress? Of course, it’s important to honor God with our clothing choices, to be modest and not overtly offensive (obscene or vulgar), but that’s where our censure should end. Shouldn’t we be grateful, in an age where church attendance is falling off, that people come to church at all? A friend of mine, a gifted choir director, got skewered once because he wore flip-flops on the platform. Is it possible that God rejected this man’s glorious choir tribute, because his flip-flops were an abomination?

I did it because I was staring at art up there and my experience of art is that it’s often chaotic or there’s dissonance that captures one’s attention and imagination. The pastor invited people to go pick up their children and allow them to participate. Children are notorious for coloring outside the lines. I wondered how these children would follow his dictation to keep the colors together. I wondered how many Christian’s spontaneity and creativity has been squelched in the name of conformity.

I did it because God made me an individual not a clone. He meant for each one of us to become Christ-like versions of ourselves, not Cookie-cutter Christians, a term my pastor IMG_5926father used often. He meant for you and I to make a our own defining mark on the landscape of his kingdom, not a prescribed one or why would he have given out so many distinct gifts? We were meant to be different from each other in order to build each other up, complementing each other, each one an essential part of the team. He also made us unique, because he knew not everyone was going to like us. God did this on purpose to reach as many as possible. The long hair may be able to reach someone the crew cut can’t reach and vice versa.

I get that there’s a marked difference in the significance of these two situations. On the one hand, a man was made to do something he had no desire to do to appease his IMG_5930employers and maintain his livelihood. On the other, a Pastor, probably someone who loves order, made a fair request to keep things tidy. I do think order is important. We all need a considerable amount of structure in our lives to function in a healthy way and God created boundaries for our benefit, but God isn’t only about order. Take a step into nature and it’s evident that chaos is not in any way outside of his realm. One of the most magical forests I’ve ever visited is on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. It’s called Cathedral Grove: ancient, massive, trees, some tall and stately, pointing proudly to the heavens, some whose branches go higgledy piggledy, draped in drippy, shaggy green, many leaning or fallen where they may, their humongous, jumbled root systems exposed, housing a myriad of creatures. There’s a boardwalk through this forest, man’s attempt to tame it and I’m grateful for that, but it’s all over the place and awe-inspiring to say the least!

On that great Judgement Day, Matthew 25:32 says, “all nations will be gathered before him”. Not one nation, one ethnicity, one bland, monochromatic mass, no all peoples, IMG_5927a kaleidoscope of all colours, shapes, sizes, and hair lengths. Why are we not embracing what is so obviously God’s plan? Why are we not celebrating our differences and giving each other room to flower into our most beautiful, unique selves? Let’s go out from now on, looking kindly, with love, on our neighbor’s hair, his ripped jeans, his exposed hairy toes, for we’ve no time to fret over such frivolities. We’re on important Kingdom business and we’ve got colours to splash. 😀


Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: @pollyeloquent2 and don’t forget to mention that you’re a reader. Thanks for your time!






See if I Care

I lost something recently that I cherished. No, there’s been no death in my family. I like to use big words and have a tendency to exaggerate. I lost pictures I’d taken on my holidays, pictures I’d admired and played with and hoped to share on Instagram, probably 500 of them. I went on a hike to a lake this summer and impulsively took my phone, the keeper of my precious pictures, on a swim and, nope, I didn’t have them backed up. My phone is dead, blank, unyielding, even though I smothered it in quinoa, rice, and silica crystals, took it in to have it checked out by people who know more about phones than I, stroked it and prayed over it. I’m still praying, but to date, sadly, there’s been no resurrection.
Continue reading “See if I Care”

Out of the Blind Side

Those of you who’ve been following my blog know that I’ve been running to improve my fitness level. The city I live in has two sides divided by a river and coulees or, if you’re not familiar with that term, ravines. I live a few blocks from the trails on top of the lightroad-815297_12802coulees, a pleasant place to exercise with a beautiful view of the river valley. Yesterday, I awoke at 5 am to get my run in, because I had to be somewhere to volunteer at 6:45. I know, an ungodly hour, but I work in healthcare. A 5 am start to the day isn’t unusual for me. What was unusual about this particular run is it was in the dark. I still opted to go out on top of the coulees, because running on trails is gentler on the body than smacking the pavement, but I didn’t consider how challenging it would be to run without being able to see. Continue reading “Out of the Blind Side”

There’s a World out There

There’s a kid picking through a garbage can

While I sit down to breakfastworldpoor-2382641__4802

There’s tired man in an unemployment line

While I head off to work

There’s an invalid struggling to use his limbs

While I climb on my bicycle

And there’s a world out there trying

While I’m watching my TV


There’s a girl, she’s been living in a cardboard box

worldchildren-of-war-1172016_12802While I’m warm and sheltered

There’s a child lying broken on a kitchen floor

While I have been embraced

There’s a boy dodging bullets in a civil war

While I take peace for granted

There’s a world out there crying

While I’m watching my TV


I live in a world where I can choose to stay

Will I venture out, will I look and really seeworldboy-529067_12802

That life is happening all around me?

I’ve been living in a fairytale

Some are living in a tragedy

What can I do?

Will I do anything?


There’s a lonely one pining in an empty room

worldalone-2666433_1280While I’m loved and wanted

There’s sickly soul looking for a lasting cure

While I’m whole and strong

There’s a muddled mind searching for the simple truth

While I’m clear and rested

There’s a world out there dying

While I’m watching my TV


I live in a world that I must choose to leave

I must venture out, I must look and really see

That life is happening all around meworlddrink-3021521_12802

Lord, I wanna be a living spring

Welling up to eternity

Where everyone can come and drink

There’s a world out there


Posts come out every Monday morning, a poem every third Monday. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: pollyeloquent. Thanks for reading. 🙂



What are we Waiting For?

I have a confession to make. I was a Ferberizer. If you aren’t familiar with this term, a Ferberizer is a person who prescribes to Dr. Ferber’s approach for training an infant to sleep. When I think back on those early years with my children, the newborn stage was, by far, the most difficult for me. You see, I adore sleep and have generally been very good at it, sleeping on average seven to nine hours a night. Going from a healthy, luxurious eight hours of sleep, to sleeping three hours before being awoken by a cute, tight-fisted, red-faced, screaming narcissist was a nightmare. Within a month’s time, I was transformed from a relatively fashionable, semi-capable human being, to an unkempt, waitingbaby-2387661__4802smelly, baggy-eyed, babbling zombie, which is why I was a Ferberizer. It was imperative that I find the quickest way back to my cozy bed and the sweetest of dreams. You can read all about Ferber and his methods here, but essentially, when it was time for your babe’s beddy-bye, you placed your little one in the crib awake. The premise was that the child needed to learn to fall asleep on his own and self soothe, if need be, without any cuddling, rocking, or excessive bum patting on the part of the parent. Inevitably, the crying would begin. The parent was to wait an increment of time and then go in and give their offspring a few gentle pats of reassurance and exit the room once more and continue doing this until the child went to sleep. Eventually, the kid, squawking, waiting for his mother’s return would think, “Aw, nuts, she’s not coming back and this is exhausting” and he’d peter out into a restful slumber. Sometimes, this worked perfectly and sometimes it was an agonizing waiting game, but whatever you think of this method, I believe it taught my children a valuable lesson: sometimes, in life, one has to wait.
Continue reading “What are we Waiting For?”

Standing in the Storm

When most people think of Canada, they think of cold, ice, and snow. We specialize in winter up here. The province of British Columbia has milder temperatures the further south you go, but Canada is largely a chilly place for a substantial part of the year. I’mblizzard-91898_12802 from Alberta and winter can last close to six months with dumps of snow recorded even in the summertime.
Continue reading “Standing in the Storm”

Here’s to the Great Sorter in the Sky

Take control of me, Jesus. The current management is woefully incompetent.


My son, like many other boys his age, loved to play with Lego. His imagination soared as he created all manner of scenes, structures, and creatures. One Mother’s Day, I even received a clever, Lego cake!legocake_Fotor

At one point, he began the daunting task of sorting his Lego. He made this decision, because it took too long to locate the particular piece he needed. Having obtained a load of it at a garage sale, I watched him patiently sorting through it for days.

One afternoon, I was helping him, while his younger sister looked on.

“Why are you helping him sort his Lego, Mummy?” she asked.

Without hesitation, I replied, “Because I love him”.

In the silence that followed, I had a moment of gratitude for the love of God
and His willingness to help me sort out so much more than just my Lego.


Complete the experience. Listen to Audrey Assad’s “Good to Me”. 

Posts come out every Monday morning, a poem every third Monday. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: pollyeloquent. Thanks for reading. 🙂

Got Junk?

Does freaking out all the time make one a freak?

Self-awareness can be a scary venture. We all try to bury or look away from those things we don’t like about ourselves. Yet, if we want to grow in goodness and grace, we must take the time to examine who we have become. If it’s something we put off, because wagon-524514_19202we’re busy and reflection takes time and stillness, or because we’re afraid of what we might find, we will pay for it in our relationships. Too often, I’ve taken the train to destination unknown, all the while failing to note the scenery and I’ve ended up in Sorryville. It’s about being in the moment and it’s a matter of self-care. It’s something I struggle with on a daily basis.
Continue reading “Got Junk?”


I’m starting to piece my past together

                And at this point

I’m wondering

If my past should have been left in pieces

                                                   When I open up the wounds of my past

I suffer again

Having gained an understanding of why I suffered

It’s painful

But worth the pain

I think

    Understanding leads to forgiveness and healing

Healing is about wholeness

                                                                                      It’s about picking up the pieces

And putting them back together

One shard at a time

Fashioning something new

                     That glitters

When the light hits the jagged edges


Complete the experience. Listen to Gungor’s You Make Beautiful Things.

Posts come out every Monday morning, a poem every third Monday. Scroll down to the bottom of the page to receive notifications of my posts via email. Follow me on Instagram username: pollyeloquent. Thanks for reading. 🙂