A Hope of My Own

At first I thought that I would go back
Over the years,

Retracing my winding path
From birth to re-birth, to near-death and back

But time stopped me.

To walk a path, or re-walk it
Obliges the traveler to accept a linear life
A two dimensional existence
That can only move forward
Or backward
Or begin again (if only in thought.)

At first I thought my path was straight,
Moving, perhaps, from stepping stone to stepping stone, 
Or lesson to lesson.

Then I thought it was a series of circles,
Like cursive “e”’s
Running forward,
Looping back
Always racing
But somehow frustrating
Stagnant,
Repeating lessons I thought I’d learned.

Then, in the frustration,
I found resignation,
Then peace.
And I relaxed.

My path is not a path at all
As we know them.

It is more like a series of bloomings.

I set my foot down and
From that spot an explosion of life
Radiates outward, expanding my horizon 
And my soul,
Touching others, like a sunrise,
And even revealing my past,
Illuminating it with fresh colors.

My path is not linear, it is not wandering.

My path is creation and re-creation.

It is life expanding itself.
It is both small and endless
Simple and complex
Personal, but entwined.

And I am not Alone.

Sometimes it takes profound dignity
To undergo indignities.
To stand silent when falsely accused,
To accept help when rendered helpless,
To survive the horrific.
Sometimes we are our highest and best selves
When witnesses would claim we have been stripped of everything.

While suffering the ultimate indignity
Inflicted by man upon his God,
Christ transformed His Humiliation
Into triumph, and His death
Into life for all who accept His gift.

And so no illness, no human depravity, no circumstance
Can diminish the high nature of our souls,
Bestowed there by Christ's own sacrifice.

If we did not live in a world that can be too mysterious to understand,
We would not need His guidance.

If we did not live in a world that can be too painful to fathom,
We would not need His love.

If we did not live in a world that can be too beautiful for words,
We would not need to thank Him.

If we did not live in a world that can be too cruel to bear,
We would not need His justice.

In that day
Of Your coming,
Our praises will not be sung
With muted voices and
Embarrassed hearts.

Our hands will be raised high,
Our voices will cry out with shouts
Of unashamed praise.

For the One Who is Worthy
The Precious Lamb of God

***********

Lord, keep me as no one
Except in Your eyes.

In this age men have forgotten
They have forgotten
Your awesomeness, power and holiness.

You ask for our love,
But You demand our respect.

You give us the freedom to choose,
But You will not be denied 
By any man
At the end of the age.

In this hour I, too, have forgotten.
I have claimed Your love
but have forsaken Your lordship over me.

I have accepted Your grace,
but have turned away from Your glory.
I, too, have forgotten Your holiness.

What a struggle it is to be re-birthed
Born anew in Christ's image,
Submitted to His will.

The pain sears,
The flesh resists,
The spirit flags.

Like a labor which fails to progress,
I am stalled.
Stuck.

Lord, bear fruit in me and through me.
Even though I am not worthy of it.

Lord, forgive me for clinging to myself.

Christ said that he who loves his life
Will lose it
And that he will will lose his life
Shall preserve it.

The part of me that is willing to walk this path
Struggles with my rebellious nature.

Every daily thought and action in this world reinforces
That willful self-identity.

I cannot break this pattern.
Only God can through His Holy Spirit.

Although I buck like an unbroken colt,
I choose, with a steadfast mind,
To submit myself to His perfecting work
In my inner self.

Holy Spirit, work on me.
God, pour Your love through me until
I am washed away and only You remain,
Indistinguishable.