Posts by vunglaub

Living life as Child of God , walking with Jesus to see His kingdom come by the Power of the Holy Spirit. And writing of His Majesty and Glory in ALL THINGS that HE may be MAGNIFID ABOVE ALL THINGS!

Jail bird

A shadow drapes across the tempered glass

Condemning the caught of each trespass.

These wounded birds who rest in cages.

Little and large , ones of all ages.

With Fragile legs beneath broken wings.

lame limp from pleas and pleadings…

And flight and fights and vain imaginings.

These birds ,these night birds, rest in cages.

They Could have been song birds in other ages.

Flying freely and nibbling at toast!

But now , hunted by man , haunted by ghosts!

They barter and bargain deals for meal

Gamble canteen , they covet and steal .

Crouched , in shadows beneath the tempered glass

Asking “Where is God who can save my ass ?”

These birds oh birds oh jailed night birds!

Have you not seen have you not heard?

A little light has come to deliver a Word.

A gentle light like sparrow, like dove, like rain

taps taps against the tempered pane.

Where their fists have punched to feel something.

Where their head has pressed to know nothing.

Where Screams have come scorch coals of silence.

While mama’s prayers send angels against violence.

This little light, Light like a bird , like fowl, like hail

Cracks cracks in the pane and trails like a snail .,

To let light through the crouched temple of stone.

To enter now the prisoner heart left all alone.

To cauterize the sorrow and morrows of pain.

And make the madman within turn and be sane .

Till wounded bird lifts head to see

Behind the light is Him who sets men free!

And little bird , caught in Fowler’s snare

Finds the Light has loosed his bars unaware.

Retreat Day 4 Smell

A meditation from Day 4 as COVID nurse in quarantine

Smell ..

The rose from a friend sits by the bed. He called it the “rose of Sharon. ” But it is not , it is a long stemmed red rose with thorns. It is beautiful But I cannot smell it.

Is it a rose if it has no scent ? And Are we Gods flowers if we have no fragrance ? Is it only the bloom , the dress and the smile , that matter ?or does this Perfume of of my soul matter?

The rose is always catching me as I go by it. It invites me to sniff. But again and again i breathe deeply yet cannot smell it. I sit in my scrubs in the chair . I only know to dress in my scrubs . They are the soft worn scrubs I wear as my pajamas. Once crisp and smelling like new fabric. And I too was new , fresh wine in fresh wine skin.

Once when my scrubs were less worn there was a fragrance on me . A sweet Aroma of Christ permeated me. But the stench, Lord the stench of Death it is in my nostrils and I can smell nothing else.

But no , no , not even now oh Death where is your Stench ? It is not on me ! I can’t smell a thing ! Clinical, Numb of Scent.

I bend once again draw the stem of the rose ever so close to my nose. Then I draw all the air I can . I ask and imagine a great aroma. Yes ! I can imagine a smell , it is the sweet almost fruit like smell of a rose.

Does not God do the same with me .. does He not gracefully bend towards me and tenderly pull me to His nostrils … waiting waiting longingly , with Divine imagination inhale for a scent of His divine creation! Does He now longingly inhale for my fragrance to return? Hopefully longing.

““O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?” But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” And He who bends to inhale breathes out !

It is in the Exhale of the Breath of God that I live and breathe and have my being . Breath of God recesitate me that I may be the aroma you long to inhale ! I need the breath of God !


‭‭I Corinthians‬ ‭15:55, 57‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

““O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”


“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing,”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭2:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Retreat Day 3 Empathy

I see them . no damn  Einfuhlung ! I feel them .. I feel all of them , lined up over the year. All those patients who I bent over like a cook over a pot. “Oh dear you feel so hot, can you smell this/ can you taste this ? No worries my dear.. this will pass” “a little of this , a little of that”

And then like a pot unattended over fire. Something is not right.Smoke fills the air with screams “He’s not breathing, he can’t breath … “ This will pass. “He passed, I’m sorry “ We type  “patient deceased” and go to lunch. But yet another patient arises in my mind and I feel them as I take my own temperature ..  .  

Oh sweet heat of the soul , you burn an empathy in my being….. Einfuhlung, Einfuhlung , the fire has melted my stone cold heart.

My heart ,little stone, presses against Jesus’s plump and pulsating heart. Like Elisha on the boy , he spreads over me. “When you get up oh Lord .. when you rise up ,I will live. But stay for now , press your heart to mine, create in me a new heart oh Jesus. . I feel them now , all of them , how they suffered and burned within, how they said “I can’t breathe am I okay” “ oh you are fine” I would say “ am I really ? “ they would ask .

. I see them now with fires around and the green of hope gone. I see lines and tubes as embers settle over the land . They are the ones , the soldier heroes , the  brave men who fought to breathe. I see with my heart next to yours. 

I feel my breath which I cannot hear . But theirs I once heard  rattle and gasp .. O Lord now , oh now I know their pain .  Though in my bed I look from time past to time to come , I feel so far. But I am not so far as I once was . I am in your heart . And your heart is blanketing them. 

When you lift your body from me oh Jesus , leave me your heart. Let me come out caring again, come out believing again, Let me arise alive feeling your healing on them.


“And when Elisha was come into the house, behold, the child was dead, and laid upon his bed. He went in therefore, and shut the door upon them twain, and prayed unto Jehovah. And he went up, and lay upon the child, and put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands: and he stretched himself upon him; and the flesh of the child waxed warm. Then he returned, and walked in the house once to and fro; and went up, and stretched himself upon him: and the child sneezed seven times, and the child opened his eyes.”
‭‭2 Kings‬ ‭4:32-35‬ ‭ASV‬‬

Einfuhlung,” a German word from which comes the English word empathy. Meaning “feeling in” It draws from the Greek “em”for “in” and pathos” for “feeling” . 

Both the nurse and the patient and all outcomes of health are hindered when the nurse “lacks empathy” . But, in war like times ,we find empathy scarce and we learn it cannot be bought or taught. We who seek find , it is given. And it is perpetually given by the Lord who says.“And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them a heart of flesh;”
‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭11:19‬ ‭ASV‬‬




Retreat: Day 2 Fever

A simple meditation of a nurse in COVID quarantine

The burning fires have come inside me. Those of of the demon and of the divine. Like dueling fires of the prophets of long ago, a campfire is set inside my soul. ‘ it will takes days to burn “ they say. “Bring the hydrants and hydrate the flame” While others say “try this potion or that, or a Tylenol with a toddie”. I am too far from the phone to see the experts advice.

I shall sit and ponder what Jesus says. What is it the lord says about this fire?. Could it purify me ,lord ? Could you be running across the cells of my body chasing the virus with flaming torches? Are you not so large, Lord? AND Are you not so small Lord?

I will sip , sip, sip , and consider your smallness . I will fill and consider your largeness. Your smallness . your largeness . You inside of me. Oh perfect God oh perfect man, yet still a morsel within me. I am tired now Lord and I will rest . I will rest while you busy around  the campfire , the fever of my soul.


“And it came to pass at the time of the offering of the evening oblation, that Elijah the prophet came near, and said, O Jehovah, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Israel, let it be known this day that thou art God in Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all these things at thy word. Hear me, O Jehovah, hear me, that this people may know that thou, Jehovah, art God, and that thou hast turned their heart back again. Then the fire of Jehovah fell, and consumed the burnt-offering, and the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench. And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces: and they said, Jehovah, he is God; Jehovah, he is God.”

‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭18:36-39‬ ‭

Retreat: day 1 Leaving

Day 1 : A simple meditation of a nurse in COVID quarantine.

I am going on a retreat without leaving my seat. I am going to see Jesus. I know that I am going because none are near to stop me.  A little virus on me has them far away and even if they were to come close , I would say “unclean Unclean” . Then , they would surely run. So nothing is between me and my retreat with Jesus.

Here where I am ,Jesus draws nearer . Here where I am , I will hear again.  I will hear him say “daughter” and I will hear him say “arise” and I will hear him speak to the virus . He will speak louder than the whisper voice He has for speaking to me . He will be commanding ”retreat!” . And at this word of command, the virus will flee . All the while ,I will rest . I will rest away from all created things that distract me from Jesus.


“Now hear the word of the Lord, you women. Pay attention to the word of His mouth. Teach your daughters a lament and one another a dirge, for Death has climbed through our windows; it has entered our fortresses, cutting off children from the streets, young men from the squares. But the one who boasts should boast in this, that he understands and knows Me — that I am Yahweh, showing faithful love, justice, and righteousness on the earth, for I delight in these things. This is the Lord’s declaration.”

‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭9:20-21, 24‬ ‭

Un Masked

oh Dear, remember when we looked into each other’s eyes, 
When masked, you imagined my moist lips smiling,
And saw my wrinkles like darts pointing to brighter skies.

Oh dear, let us remember , to remember, remember before we
“Grow Old and our trousers are rolled.”(1)

Oh dear, let us remember, to remember, remember before our masks are rolled beneath our chin.
Oh Dear, before you see my cracked lips lined straight without frown or grin.
And tone and contour and lines reveal our every sin.

Oh dear ,you may be shocked to find crumb , or dust, or drool on my face
And then ,see my nose quite crooked and long and out of place
Perhaps then see my cheeks too Rudy or drawn or fat
And bumps or pimples that make you ask “what the heck is that?”
then you may point to the wrinkle and sweetly call it a “dimple”
While I stare back to think of the time when all was true and simple.

To remember when you once trusted in not seeing and now ,seeing, you doubt.
To remember when we could only see each other’s souls shining out
Bright eyes of wonder and hope and love from some eternal spout

Oh dear , let us remember to remember, before our masks are rolled beneath our chin.
Remember , when the “windows of our souls” once shined brightly what was within. (2,3,4)

Despite all inconvience , constraint and irritations , the masks of the COVID 19 era allowed us to look into each other’s eyes. It gave us a focus on one another despite the pandemic intent of “separation”. Somehow , we had to focus on one another’s eyes to listen carefully to one another. This poem is a thanksgiving for the “one another” intimacy that God initiated in this season. It was a season when we took the time to look at one another in the eyes and believe a greater time was to come. Where the virus seemed to isolate, isolation gave rise to intimacy . May we remember.

1. T. S Elliot The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock “I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled”

2. Cicero (approx 43 BC) “the face is a picture of the mind as the eyes are it’s interpreter”

3. Matthew 6:22 The eye is the lamp to the body . So if your eye is sound your entire body will be full of light. Luke 17:32 “remember Lot’s wife”

4. Salluste Du Bartas (poet 1544-1596) “these lovely lamps, these windows of the soul” and Shakespeare from “Romeo and Juliet” Act 2 “eyes are the windows of the soul” both writers based text from the teaching of Jesus recorded in Matthew 6:22

The Widow’s dress

they stare strangely now at her

 Alone in the familiar pew

for now is one

when once was two.

She Pardons those who see her in black

And takes her seat with the sinners in the back.

“How do you do? ”

She replies “I do I do”

As She greets the saints from pew to pew.

“She’s not the same? ” “why she looks sorta lame ?”

Gossip echoes “It’s such a pitiful shame!”

To her they say “How do you do ?”

“I do . I do” She nods to folks two by two

While others say ” She’s growing old, a pitiful sight”

She whispers against their mask ” I’m beautiful in white ”

“And soon” she thinks ” I’ll dust the dust off my train”

“There must be a place where widows are not left in vain.”

She sits in the back rows with the hoboes and hoes

Where her twisted Kleenex soon makes garters for foes

Where the comfortable blink and wink at her plight.

“Poor one ” they think “can barely put a single doubt to flight”!

oh, pitiful bird with one wing,

broken bottle without oil

Cistern Of hope broken in toil

Oh better half now gone from the Whole

Oh better half “our intentions are for his soul.”

Soon a Bright Light pours upon them all

As The Divine illuminates the widows new call

Appearing Alone in this familiar back pew

They can only see one

when suddenly she sees two

Next to her is this one with a radiant ring

And a “I do I do ” is The only song she can sing

To Him whose eyes are as the jasper morning star

From His chrism anew , He fills oil in her jar.

Soon Turning every head and crushing all proud hearts

His Voice speaks “nothing ends where I start”

Tears drown the days of the demons final foil  

And joy now buries and rests all her terrors and toil

Finally she lifts her head up the years behind her veil

And announces with Him whom she loves “hell will not prevail.”

Then suddenly the Black dress becomes Radiant white

And every curse and judgement of others is put to flight.

“How do you do/”

“I do I do ” she tells them pew to pew.


“You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate, but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her, and your land Married; for the Lord delights in you, and your land shall be married.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭62:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There is one who marries the widow. He pursues her all the more fiercely when she entrusted to no other but Him. And so it is that the Lord tells the church to watch after the widows. Perhaps not so much for the sake of her, for she has the Perfect Husband. But for the sake of the church that they may see Jesus and His Bride the Church ever more clearly.





Dear Mr C (ode to COVID)

Dear dear Mr C ,you cannot sit in this pew.

You haven’t the mind of these remnant few .

And , I remember how the days used to be

Where you acted as a monster, mr C

as you pounced with Mr fear up the aisle,

And ,good church folks left in single file.

On the Ides of March, your name I heard .

Spoken to us who were gathered In the WORD

“We shall not meet”I heard priest did say .

So, we gathered our missiles and went away

Folks thought you might commune with us

to kiss our host or to drink from our cup.

They did not want you to sit in our pew

shaking our hands with our “peace to you “.

But I do not know why you were not welcomed here

for they often invite others to come with Mr fear .

They invite ones like you from office and home .

They invite ones like you from where germs roam.

Seems at church they let you scatter us most .

I think some forgot you die before the host.

And too , they forgot in the Sovereign’s making .

He makes you to live then to die in Jesus’s taking.

I never had seen the church crumble and sway.

Like a bride changing her mind on her wedding day.

The day you walked in the sanctuary, Mr C

And made the church cling to Mr. fear and flee.

But now see , The Bride spreads from town to town

She strengthens with beauty to wear Her Crown.

And now, she sits free from Fear , dressed in white

And you Mr C are no longer The Spouse of Fright.

Psalm 1 A tale of two men

A Lexio meditation on Psalm 1

Two men went out on a paved road one day .

On it , They sought To Find Truth, Life and Way .

So “ blessed “ and “ wicked “ became their name .

Named by the pursuit in which they sought fame.

One day , the two split at a cross walk in life.

They parted in peace, as pals, without strife.

See “Blessed “ had stopped at the tree in the road

While “ wicked “walked on to where wild oats are sowed.

“ Blessed “just could not move his body from the tree.

When Wicked called “come find a place to be me”

On the path ,Wicked marveled to look at self and men

Soon Being “ Friend” to all who scorn , scoff and sin

At dark Wicked would then sleep with silica and steel,

So by dawn , wasted Wicked could no longer think or feel

While Blessed only pressed his heart against the tree

And from dawn to dusk heard thump thump “ abide in me”

Through every season “Blessed “never would pull or part

He clung to tree though seeing “ Wicked “ did grieve his heart

He saw “Wicked” rolling down from dusk to morn

Down paths into dark pits of Satans scoff and scorn

Where Wicked burned in fire pits of doubt and sin

Scorched, Wicked then became chaff blown in the wind

But Still Blessed pressed against the mighty tree

Clinging to say “Lord Have Mercy on Wicked and Me”

“Blessed” never moved down a path or was swayed in the wind

He Steadfast leaned against the tree and he was grafted in

Even in 2021 Wicked or Blessed ,so are we

Either Wind blown by fame into the fire

or Grafted by the Spirit into Eternity’s Tree




Palms Sunday

We remember how you put palms in our hands,

palms in our open ,naked hands. Hands that once

tapped tapped keep tapping on wood and on flesh.

Before these ritual cleansings and gloves ond trash

Palms in our hands, hands that once lifted , opened drifted and dropped.

We consider all our sins like deadly viruses on these hands caught.

Palm of our hands are dirty cursed hands that infect

tap tap tapping on our keyboard and screen without effect

faking loving and contact with people alone and unseen

palms of our hands we proudly think of as clean

dropping and depressed alone weary and lean

We shake fist in judgement at the sight of your open hands

we cannot see palms of justice nor palms of mecy’s command

so tap tap tapping as we bang shout at door and demand

“What are you doing God? Why is death creeping  across the land?”

Palms of your hands , oh the palms of your hands too far away to see!!!

Cannot believe they are surrendered , bruised crushed , stretched , nailed to a tree!

yet , now and then , we heal without knowing or holding the palm of your hands

palms of love, palms of compassion that have roots from Eden to the plank

Burrowing driving digging demanding justice rank upon rank

Yet tap tapping bleeds love from the nails in the palm of your hand.

Where you reply to us by your justice these palms from Mercy’s command

Tap tapping at every soul bent across sick shore and sick land

“where were you child when I killed my son like a lamb?

see you were here  child , then  as now , in the palm of my hand”


“Then did they spit in his face, and buffeted him; and others smote him with the palms of their hands,”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭26:67‬ ‭KJV‬‬

 “Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭49:16‬ ‭KJV‬‬

“Indeed before the day was, I am He; And there is no one who can deliver out of the palm of My hand; I work, and who will reverse it?””

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭43:13‬ ‭NKJV‬‬