Here’s a story for those who love such things:
I was once a man (seems like so long ago) who didn’t have much,
But I knew how to love, and loved all I had.
One day I got something I grew to adore and prize
Above all else I had, and I desired not much more.
But not long after, I began to lose the little that I had.
After each loss, I would say to myself and to Him on my knees,
‘I’ve lost something quite dear, but I’m still grateful.’
Thirteen minutes ago, I got a call.
It wasn’t good news, Granny was ill,
And I somehow knew this was going to be the last time.
We spoke over the phone, and she said not to come over;
The voice was Nanny’s voice as I remember it,
But it carried something more now,
A certain weight I couldn’t place,
Though she sounded frail also…it was the strangest thing.
Nanny spoke like I’ve never heard her speak before,
And I listened as if I was in a trance:
There is a well from which the thirsty draw,
It is an ancient well that never runs dry;
The abject woe of this generation is that
There are few who know how to draw from this well;
And even fewer who know the value and use of that which they draw.
There are those who draw only to quench fires and thirst;
There are those who draw to nourish themselves and others;
And there are those who teach and encourage others to draw too.
Worship is me – good ol’ me, lying late and rising early
Thinking and writing about worship at the break of dawn;
It is you reading my words and reflecting on the nature
Of the worship you’ve offered and desire to offer.
The setting is a long stretch of road
Strewn with pearls and diamonds and rubies.
It smells of freshly baked dainties and ripened fruits;
Bright as the noonday sun and straight as a ray of light
With inscriptions engraved at every step:
Beauty for ashes; No more tears;
It began with weak breath – presumed death;
Then serendipity brought hope that led to disappointment.
But desperate faith called forth something unlikely –
The gradual correction of an apparent design flaw
Hidden from view, known to few, but with lasting effects.
These are matters of the heart…literally.
“What would it take to make God laugh?”
The question strolled humorously through my mind.
If there ever was a ‘drunken’ thought, this was it.
Looks like my muse is on a cruise – vacation blues.
My muse is a beautiful maiden, the most ravishing demoiselle;
Exquisite beyond description; Wise beyond compare – without peer;
Her smile carries the sun, the moon, the stars, every source of light;
Her words are soothing, sublimely subtle,
Poignantly apt, incisively noninvasive, completely compelling;
She is the perfect picture of contradictions dressed in paradoxes,
Crowned with the ultimate enigma, surrounded by barely unveiled mysteries;
Her steps are silent, even the dust isn’t disturbed if she wills it so.
She walks with the grace of a majestic feline,
And the stately elegance of a sunrise.
There’s a sound that echoes from the earth on days like today;
It spans the spectrum of the audible to the inaudible,
And emanates from the animate and the inanimate.
It is such a unique breathtaking sound:
A rolling, roaring, rushing, rising, whirling, spreading,
Bubbling, soul-stirring, ascending cascade of thoughts and postures;
A sound tellingly tangible and very visible in the right light.
It is filled with demands, accusations, confessions, flatteries,
Mirth, sadness, pain, reverence, disdain, affront, gratitude;
And an inexhaustible list of other states of the human condition,
Together with the various states and cries of nature.
“This is an ancient call framed with the urgency of the times;
Don’t stagnate; Don’t give up; Don’t drift from Me; Don’t hide;
Do not trade the sounds of Heaven for profane babblings;
Do not leave your post, discard your armour, or forget your place.