The cry goes up.
---, silence often the reply.
Lament is frequent
In a world permeated with suffering.
God hides? --
As a child, from something feared?
As one ashamed of what goes on?
Or maybe as a parent
saying "just because"?
God's ways are often hidden from sight;
Our knowledge approaches not His throne.
[But still, why not a simple answer?]
"My grace is sufficient."
-developingtheology
Has your guidance gone away from me?
You have brought me to this place,
And your voice seemed so clear,
But no more. It is quiet.
Why, O God?
Have I turned away from your council?
Are you ready to speak, if I would only listen?
Or have I heard, and ignored,
your whispered or shouted call?
Create in me a clean heart,
Transform me and renew my mind,
And give me pause and patience to listen.
May your still small voice in the quiet be heard,
And heeded.
AM I JUST NOT LISTENING?
-developingtheology
It sounds at first like a joke;
An absurdity;
But then also a dream:
How better for God to know Humanity
Than to become one.
Better yet--How better to know the
unknowable
Than as it becomes one.
But why?
From Glory all the way to grave--
The distance seems too far.
-developingtheology
That fate is totally in God's hands.
What about my hands? After all,
Whose life is it?
Yeah, Yeah . . . No one seeks God. . . .
The point I concede.
Yet, surely, God seeks all,
So then I have my choice back;
And not just my choice is at stake,
God's very nature is at stake too.
For if God loves all, but picks only a few,
We must have loving condemnation.
Luther tries to silence the question:
"That is hidden, not preached."
But if the two do not coincide,
What then?
What I cannot deny is God's call.
To me, a nail-pierced hand reached out,
Knocking at my door,
Dead-bolted. I
Was hidden in the back,
Radio turned up,
So as not to hear.
Yet that gracious knock did cause the
Dead-bolt to slide, and the lock to open.
Despite my twisting of the dial, the knock
Caused the interfering radio to stop.
"Let me in,'
I heard through the now open door,
"I am here for you."
Entering, you guided me to my knees,
Accepting my sobs of surrender.
My life is totally in your hands.
After all,
Whose life is it?
-developingtheology
Yearning for your presence
In the valley of the sun;
Dry, parched;
On my bed I read your Word
The words of a kindred spirit, I find,
They refresh and renew.
Out of the valley, I seek you, My Lord
Found, I lie refreshed.
Your presence is a cascade of cool water.
Overflowing my soul, the fires you quench.
Amid the arrid ground, Sajaro arms
point skyward, patiently awaiting
The rain you give. Cactus am I?
-developingtheology
