O Son of Mine

O Son of Mine,
Pure bundle of joy,
You have brought light into my world,
Joy into my life, and meaning into my days.

You have blossomed into a flower,
Beauty dwells in your eyes,
Sweet innocence pours out of your mouth,
And I am purified by your light.

Yet I weep,
For your sweet smile is destined to fade,
Your unbridled joy will suffocate with pain,
When you see this world that I live in.

You, my own, will then be owned
By the law of life,
Your beautiful frame will be bent by experience
Of joy that is truly pain.

-Samuel Godfrey George

Harmless Joy

What a harmless joy this is!
Isn't this the way of the world?
Isn't everyone lost in his own harmless desire?
What harm can be done in confining these thoughts to oneself?

Isn't a man entitled to some private pleasure,
A pleasure so private that he would blush to tell?
Yet why does his joy turn quickly into sorrow?
Why does his emptiness remain even after the desire is quenched?

He roams in search of green pastures,
Yet he finds himself in a barren desert.
Fleeting dreams, and fading joys are his delight,
And moments of thrill slip through his hands and turn into filth.

Madness masquerades as sanity for a while,
And then rears its ugly head.
The lover of delight perceives this truth, and yet fails to act,
Fails to accept, fails to turn away, and fails to live that life he knows not.

-Samuel Godfrey George

My Lord And My God

When I barely knew this world
Or lived this life
You blazed across the sky
Roaring past me,
I cried out in my dream,
To the fiery sky,
"I will serve You!"
I uttered these words
In an unfamiliar language
That is now familiar.
I spoke of a service
That I knew nothing about
But now know well.

Once awake I was charged
With desire that seems strange now.
Aloud I expressed a wish
That came out of nowhere.
"I want to see Jesus,
I want to see Him now!" I said.
Hearing me repeat this wish many a time,
My dear Father, now dead, said,
"You will surely see Him some day."
What strange words issued from the lips
Of a man, who was not even a Christian!
Yet how comforting that thought was!

After that early day in my life,
I walked away from God.
As a young man, with great pride
I revealed to all my disbelief in God.
"Atheist" and "Agnostic" seemed popular labels
To the liberated me.
With what skill and joy I made light of the Lord
That I now worship and adore!
Not many an opportunity for mockery did I spare the Christ,
Not many an expletive did I spare the God
That I now call the Stunner.

That Stunner came back to me
After pain and failure mellowed my thickness.
One day when I turned thirty I said a prayer
And received an answer,
And then I said another, and received another.
And that made me read a book
That seemed totally dull to me till then.
I read the Word, and became another man.
The Stunner emerged in a Testament that was called Old.
Jehovah, the Massive Father,
The greatest and most ardent lover of all emerged
In the most heart-rending of tragedies.
A magnificent lover was so outrageously spurned
By His adulterous sweetheart, His people Israel.
My heart was mastered by that pain then and there.

A most ardent fan of God the Father,
A lover of Christ, and a vessel for the Spirit
I'd like to think I am.
But the struggle has not ended.
The enemy's grip is still strong,
And the Lord seems indifferent at times.
My heart sinks every now and then.
Bur I know that I am a work in progress,
True liberation from sin can be achieved only in physical death.
Nevertheless the heart sinks.

Once when my heart sank, He appeared in a dream again,
Tall and bearded, gigantic in frame,
He strode towards me, as I watched from a tiny window.
And He placed His hand on my forehead,
That sweet and gracious Lord of my heart!
The Bridegroom had finally signalled His interest,
So the bride must act.
But the Spirit must help, or the bride cannot act.
The Spirit and the bride must together say, "Come!"
To the One Who is Lord and God.

-Samuel Godfrey George

Ruled By The Heart

Could you cling harder to what pleases you?
Could you realise that stinging fantasy?
Could that muscle of joy throb forever?
Your heart demands it;
Your poor heart is so full of desire,
A yawning hunger remains within it.

Why is that brain of yours at odds with your heart?
Shouldn't you listen to your heart,
Obey its every bidding?
Isn't obedience to the heart the source of all pleasure?
Why does that irksome brain conspire to ruin your joy?
Who is that voice that speaks from within?
Why does it condemn you?
What harm have you done
Except look for lasting pleasure,
Even if it is at the cost of everything else?

You are on a mission;
You are in search of pleasure
That lives up to the flaming fantasy within.
Your heart is your queen,
Your impulses draw you to action.
All your energy is spent on
Chasing exciting shadows in your head.
What could be wrong with such a life?

Nothing is wrong with such a life
Except that the one who chases
His fantasies will never love reality.
He will not care about what is real,
As the real is not enticing enough.
He will not look beyond himself
For his dreams rule his soul.
Pain and ugliness will not appeal
To his heart which embraces
Only what it considers beautiful.

How sweet is that embrace?
How lasting is that pleasure?
How edifying is that delight?
There are some dreams that will never come true;
There are some fantasies that will never be acted out.
The pleasure in the head may never be translated into action,
And if it is ever realised, might not be as satisfying as the dream.
Yet the man goes on.

The Cross is the last thing on his mind,
Consecrating his members to the One on high
Is simply not a consideration.
Even He who is above all is irrelevant,
All that matters is what can be seen, felt and touched.
The only thing worth living for is the joy of the moment
And the moments to come.
So he blazes away like a candle
Dribbling its wax all over
Till it drowns in its own fluid.

-Samuel Godfrey George

In Love With Nothing

This world is an enticing place;
Though God's creations are many,
One is particularly smitten with the human being.
What a mighty piece of work is the human body
That even the Sons of God desired it!
So can one blame those who are drawn to it,
And who have built their lives around it?
So powerful this lust for flesh seems
To someone who can think of nothing else.

Those who worship the human form
Devote all their time and energy
To the fulfilment of their desires.
Their thirst is endless, and their quest has no end
Except the natural one.
Such hunger was never meant to be filled,
And such fire could only consume the one
Who produces it.
And there is no escape.

They seem to have abandoned
Whatever caution and restraint
That confined the love of flesh earlier.
Now many have been set loose,
They have discarded their clothes in apparent glee.
This is the way of the world now.
Some even painfully alter their bodies
For the pleasure of others.
A lot could be sacrificed for such joy.

Yet what is flesh but something
That will not last the test of time?
The luscious slab of meat that one savours today
Is tomorrow's wrinkled monstrosity,
And the next day's reeking pollution
Fit only to be burnt or covered by mud eternally.
Yet many are willing to cling to such a temporary joy.

And the tools of joy that are given to all
Are also subject to the ravages of time.
So potions have been discovered to fortify
The flaccid unwilling muscle of depleting joy.
And tired old bodies are rejuvenated
For the sake of this unforgettable thrill.
Some risk failing hearts and broken bodies
To relive the exhilaration of the past.

They surely love the body that God created,
But do they love God as much as they love
What He created, and then threw out in disdain?
Is the Creator worthy of the devotion
That the created merits?
The answer is too obvious to be stated.
The smell of live meat is all-consuming,
What about the reek of that which decays?
Would the desire for the dead flesh be
As inspiring as the love for the living?

Man was meant to love his own flesh
But not to worship it.
We have made gods out of our own bodies;
The idols that we were asked not to keep
Are still with us.
And the One who created what is desirable
Is not as desirable as what He created.
And there is no escape from this obsession
Except to listen to Him
Who says that we are slaves to this joy,
And that only He can set us free by exposing the truth,
The truth that we are in love with nothing.

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Dedication

To the One whom I did not believe in, and who stayed despite the rejection,
And who knew the desires of my heart and fulfilled them,
To the One who pursues me relentlessly, and who compels me to act,
To the One who placed in me a love for a language that is not my own,
And who nourished it through the tempestuous years,
To the One who gave me a voice and a reason to use it,
To the Origin of my noblest impulses, to Jesus
This feeble act of love is dedicated.

-Samuel Godfrey George

My Son And I

My son, my precious one, you are my greatest gift,
Every blessing pales in comparison with you.
Every morning I wake up in the hope
Of seeing your beautiful face,
Every time I see you I feel how blessed I am to have you.
What a special moment it is when our eyes meet,
What a privilege it is to sit next to you,
And what a blessing it is when we talk,
Just you and me, my son and I.

How my heart aches when you do not think of me,
I feel anger, terrible anger,
When you deny me due respect,
Or when you do not seem to care about me.
But you are a child, a very young child
Who cannot understand the depth of my feelings.
Yet when I tell you about my pain,
I can see your eyes moisten,
I can see that you feel my hurt,
When you speak to me, I can hear your voice tremble,
And when you apologise, a flood within my heart longs to break out.
It is then I long to hold you, for an eternal moment,
And say, “My son, my son, my precious beautiful son,
I’d lose everything in life to have you.”

-Samuel Godfrey George