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One Little Book
In wooden pews, the blonde little girl,thought of Him as nothing morethan a character in a book. But the woman she becameleft behind the words He’d said—too prideful to ever admitdestruction by the hands of man,and maybe by her own. No lies—except the oneshe told herself:that the enemy let her breathe. Changing for the characters around her,a shirt rough and stiff,too tight against pale skin—frayed at the collar,clinging where it shouldn’t—and the sins of a man,added to her own.For when you allow one to touch you,you become one whole. But when she was bold enoughto step out of pride,she was surprised to find herselfin the same wooden pews. This time,…
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Free Them
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Free Them
Under the apple tree—that’s where bondage came.It stole their youthfulness,and their souls began to fade,turning an ugly gray. Harbored in the liesof a simple tale—no fruit, no fruit,and now they won’t prevail. Bondage, bondage—we need a way out.Bondage, bondage—the I Am begins to shout: “Oh my, oh my—where have you gone?Where have you gone,my beloved one? Please come back,please come back—I gave you all the freedom.Now you have won,and lost your key. So I will shout:Freedom! Freedom!For my Sonis the only One who can.”
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Called Redeemed
I often think of the song “Nothing But the Blood of Jesus,” where it says: What can wash away my sin?Nothing but the blood of Jesus.What can make me whole again?Nothing but the blood of Jesus.O precious is the flowThat makes me white as snow;No other fount I know;Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Especially the line: “That makes me white as snow.” The imagery—that the Creator of the universe, the One who made these beautiful mountains, rivers, and fields full of daisies—created me and then cleansed me—is almost hard to accept. After living in shame for so long, being covered in His pureness and made clean—it’s a feeling beyond…
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Planting Seeds
The rain does a dance down my skin,burning off what is left of the sin.My arms twirl above my head,as my feet dance across the mud. The Kingdom has come,His will be done.My life has sprungfrom nothing but the planting of a seed. If the weeds grew close,I simply spoke of who loves me the most.The weeds wither, and I floatin the hope that growth would come,beyond my understanding. For I am simply a flower,planted in the garden.The Gardener has picked me,and I trust that in time, I’ll grow like a vine,transforming into the love that He called from above. © Astra Penn 2025. All Rights Reserved.
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Wait and Receive
“I’m Exhausted.” I feel it in my bones. My legs ache, my feet feel like cinder blocks, my eyes burn, and my nose constantly itches. Every part of me groans when I wake up. I haven’t felt well-rested in what feels like forever. I tried the whole positive speech thing. You know — “Every day’s a good morning!” and “As long as You wake me up, Lord, it’s a good day.”But then something aches, tingles, or pinches, and suddenly I’m back to:“Ugh, why does everything hurt?” When I was a teenager, people used to say, “You’re just going through a phase,” or “You’re just depressed.”Sure — maybe that was true…
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Watch and See
I made a mistake. I know that seems like an odd way to start, but that phrase plays on repeat in my head: “I made a mistake.” At 18, I left home to figure out life—or at least that’s what I told myself. I was hurting, tired, scared, frustrated, depressed, anxious, and done. Yet, to the world, my life had just begun. I left a safe place with my best friend at the time. We spent the night at our church youth group lock-in, and that night, I officially became a girlfriend. Now, as I sit here writing this, I can’t help but laugh at myself. Nothing—and I mean nothing—turned…
