What In The World?
I realize sons of preachers have always been
problematical items but as a child
I never once thought asking Jesus into my
heart meant the dear Lord would take up residence
in that fist-sized muscle thrumming in my chest.
When I hear young people these days
sweating blood over that kind of salvation language
I whisper What in the world?
Maybe people lose their wonder virginity even
younger nowadays leaving them unable to
listen to the nature of nature.
I don’t know.
When as a boy I took the Man of Sorrows in
it was as if I waded into a river, a slow and stately
wind across the sky, an endless sea of grass.
I love this. Thank you.
Thanks, Trish. I’m curious as to what it stirred in you. It was an unexpected poem for me, it just sorta presented itself, and it felt true. Anyway, thanks!
I read “an endless sea of grass” and heard/saw “an endless sea of grace”.
Thank God for poets who keep the salvation language – and open to us new thoughts of grass and rivers and wind to give breadth and expression to our wonder. “A slow and stately wind across the sky” – what in the world? Thank you – loved this.
yes. that “slow and stately wind,” as it blows, sometimes soft as a whisper, sometimes destructive as a hurricane or cyclone, reminds me that I am never more than His broken child, clinging to or hiding in His Son’s coattails, desperate for redemption. desperate for the warm light on my neck and shoulder, the safety and shelter ONLY He can provide…