Hi everyone,
A few years ago I had the privilege to meet Bishop Peggy Johnson of the United Methodist Church. While visiting my college bible study group, she shared the following wise words with the students: “Faith needs to be an adventure. Enjoy it. Have fun with it.”
These words have helped change the way I view my faith and were part of the inspiration behind this poem. May we all have adventurous faith—like the disciples who followed Christ at a single call, I pray we can be open and willing to get up and move wherever He leads us.
God bless
P.s. This poem is also an answer to a request for a “faith-based” poem

I had a conversation with Faith today.
      She stood on the step down to the road,
         refusing my invitation to sit on the porch.
She told me that
       she didn’t like staying put. 
I was confused.  Isn’t Faith about being solid?
        She laughed.  Touch me—I’m solid, I’m real, she said,
  because I am anchored in my heart,
and I move
     because I need to go places, follow people,
          strengthen them and assure them on their many
                     different roads.
I am a growing thing, she said. A living, breathing,
           walking Faith. 
                                    I do not stay put.  
I ask you to come with me, she said.
          I’m in the world, tough enough
                for the hard spots 
           and strong enough for hurricanes.
The road will change you, but I
          will stay with you.  
                 Faith and I stepped onto the road
                                  and our conversation went on.

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Faith by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.



Hi everyone,
This is a poem for after Christmas, when the holiday is suddenly over, everyone is exhausted, but there is always more to do ahead. I’m sure Mary and Joseph felt just as tired after their eventful day: a difficult travel into town, no comfortable place to sleep, Mary giving birth to Jesus in a stable, shepherds appearing and talking about angels and wanting to visit the new king… I find that the verse that follows the busy events of the first Christmas very important to remember: Luke 2:19 (NIV) says, “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” This verse about reflection inspired my poem. We, too, can pause and reflect to help us get ready for whatever comes next.
God bless!

Inspired by Luke 2:19

the babe is sleeping,
the shepherds have left,
the animals are silent,
the stable is still.

in these few hours when quiet comes
Mary stays awake, too tired for rest.
each busy moment settles into memory,
and each memory she ponders,
each memory, she treasures.

the season is over,
the presents given,
the children are sleeping,
the house is still.

in these few hours when quiet comes,
when you are too tired for rest:
ponder. remember. pray.

the Prince of Peace waits in the silence
to speak to you,
to center you once again,
strengthen you in your weariness.
He knows what these days are like
for you. He lived them, too.
like His mother, He knew to take time
to ponder and pray,
no matter the events
behind or ahead.

Ahead is a new year.
the uncertainty is waiting,
anticipation growing,
questions stirring.

Mary, too, faced new days
of questions.
that night in the stable
she closed her eyes and
pondered. prepared
to face new days of questions
as a woman rooted in faith.

Morning breaks.
The pondering silence is gone,
the busyness comes,
and the faith holds on, deep
like an anchor in the quiet
below the waves.
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Pondering by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.


Hi everyone,
I’ve shared this poem before; I share it again in light of the heartbreaking events in Connecticut today. Our prayers are with you all.
God bless,


Sea-sickened on your storm-tossed sea,
      you’re trapped on a 
  pitching ship
        crushed by thunder and the hail of life.
No one’s there but 
   on your tear-slickened deck.
The lighthouse winked out in the blackness
        and every prayer and cry is 
    silent as a dead whistle.
Helpless, you see the waves, 
    fear you’ll be ripped
                                              out to sea.
In your lonely hurricane hours you ask
        Where is God?
He’s not brightening the lighthouse 
        to guide you home, 
   and you don’t see these waves parting 
      or Someone walking on water
   to save you.

In times like these, look deeper, 
      for God is your anchor.
Though unseen beneath the crashing waves,
        He’ll never budge.
           He’ll hold you fast
                                       and strong. 

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Anchor by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.