Victory on the Blue-Green

Today another chariot-load

See them Father

The smiles, the joy

The diverse cultures

Registering surprise

The angels launching

Into their happy chores

The Family keeps arriving

As expected

The Spirit is so

Effective down there

So drawing

The Word full of life.

Now you just say it


And I’m on my way

Clouds part

That little place

Of blue and green

Stops its bickering

And its mendacity

And oppression

The patient, plaintive ones

Stellar in faith

See my arrival

My house-cleaning

My wrath

The wrath of a Lamb

My vindicating

And all the knees bow


And all the tongues confess

“Jesus is Lord”

To the glory of you




Lights Going On

He is letting go.
That awkwardness at the mention of grace
That lowering of the eyes
As Jesus is named.
He is open to stories
Anecdotes of merciful intervention
Films coming out that
Name the New Birth unashamedly.
End of lunch illustrations
Of Beatitudes, Blood, Blessing and Brotherhood.
I marvel at this young welder
Just out of high school
But showing sensitivity, nuance
And humour well beyond his years.
And there have been trials
Parents divorced.
A brother stepping forward
To an unexpected pregnancy.
He gets many of the gopher jobs
And the novelty of some
Rather mindless factory functions
Tries to get him down.
But unsuccessfully.
The kid has resilience.
Watched a rather serious accident go down.

He catches on fairly well
He respects the tips and cautions
Coming from the older ones.
He can throw it back
When the jabs come.
I wish him well.
I wish him Christ.
And yes, he is being “apprehended”.

Philippians 3: 12

Doug Blair, Waterloo, ON

Thou Makest the Outgoings of the Morning and Evening to Rejoice

A radiant glow
As day begins
And dew creeps from the barley
And songsters pipe
And smells ignite
And workers up right early.
What news they ask
How fares the world
And will it note my passing?
Few bob to earn
Few friends to greet
But nothing spare amassing.

And soon ’tis gone
The clock rolls on
And muscles ache and falter.
Will Ted be missed?
A grand-son kissed
And christened at the altar.
And evening’s glow
Helps us to know
A shadow world is creeping.
But not for long
Hope’s glowing song…
The Son will raise the sleeping.

(suggested by Psalm 65: 8b)

Doug Blair, Waterloo, ON


Psalm 57:
3. He shall send from heaven, and save me from the reproach of him that would swallow me up. Selah. God shall send forth his mercy and his truth.

To expect deliverance from the Heavenlies? The adversary moves in to inflict physical harm, scandal, slander, discouragement, loss. You have canvassed all natural aid, all friends and agencies. Nothing. You utter your desperate prayer. Should have done that earlier, Friend. Perhaps prayer for guidance or patience or restraint. But here you are, in a mess again. (Of course I include myself in this.)

And you launch the petition. And you wait. But something unusual is happening. You know that the Lord, the Good Shepherd has heard; is on the way. You can almost hear his foot treads coming up the path from the direction opposite that of the threatening “wolf”. Are you crazy? What provokes this senseless expectation?

If you have only the practice of form, sippings and taught concepts, you cannot expect this urging of victory. But if you have the DEPOSIT, the New Life within you because of the process of repentance unto life (Acts 11) and the Lord’s merciful impartation, you have the right sort of “craziness” for victory.


I have just finished reading  a novel which is a disturbing parable, a dark prophecy. Copywritten in 2004 it is the work of Nobel prize winner Jose Saramago of Portugal. The title, “Seeing”.

A torrential downpour frustrates the turnout for a municipal election in the un-named capital city of an un-named Western nation. Oddly there are no proper names in the entire book. The Prime Minister. The Cabinet Ministers, The Minister of the Interior. The Superintendent of Special Investigation. The Wife of a local eye doctor. Her loyal dog.

It is decided that the election will be re-run after seven days. The turnout is then more respectable. But to the Government’s surprise 83% of the ballots are blank. Traitorously white. The President’s staff formulate a scathing rebuke as to threats to “their beloved democracy, hardly earned by forefathers.” He promises to remove all official personnel to a neutral spot outside, and to allow the constituents, like rebellious children, to stew in  their own juices.

Surprisingly the City continues to function, and without the overwhelming lawlessness suspected by the Government inner circle.

Had someone provoked this mass statement as to the redundancy of the “public service”? The culprit or conspirators must be brought to justice!

On the day of government departure a total of 27 avenues of withdrawal are selected so as to minimize the impact of any outburst at the passing convoys. No citizens come outside. No public outcry in the early light of day. But household lights mostly turned on to better view and to assist the exodus of the policy makers. Yep, begone: no great loss. Again “whiteness”.

From the outside of the barb-wired City the Minister of the Interior begins to feel increasingly ridiculous. He orchestrates an explosion to pump up the theory of an unidentified anarchist and villain. Secret arrests and interrogations abound under the cloak of “state of siege”. The News media will do his bidding.

He appoints a task force of three to “break back into the City” and to locate a person whom he now suspects, for scanty reasons, to be the root of this horrible uprising. The scapegoat, a heroic and little known woman who was spared the plague of blindness in the City four years prior. The Superintendent is humiliated by the prospect of a wild goose chase with a foregone conclusion. Safe houses; communication code-names. A veritable spy farce. But he gets to meet the Woman and her circle of loyal friends, and finds no fault in them.

Crisis of conscience.

The final episode of “whiteness” is a storm of citizens’ pamphlets intended to reverse the harm spread by a soul-less and sold-out journalism including photographs of our heroine and followers. Will she come out of it unscathed? Will the Superintendent? Will his underlings who suspect the rest of the story?

Not gonna tell. And who orchestrated the whiteness of the “blankers”, or did anyone? And what about that massive epidemic of debilitating blindness in the recent past? White blindness.

Doug Blair, Waterloo, Ontario

And just one more disturbing book review. Please.