A tawdry cynic, moi, encased
in flannel arguments,
embraced
no mercy seen, no quarter given;
I laughed at those of
faith, so: shriven.
You watched me from on high and chuckled
as
I, to that lone squirrel did 'fess:
"To thou, Squirrel, nigh and God,
I'm cuckold--
'Tis only you twain's love I'd press
near to 'bosom,
dear to soul --
Yes: only you two I would know."
Just 12 years
old, then, in those pines
of Idyllwilde, encamped. June's spines
of
heat! -- so, campkids trivets made --
lo, how I scoffed at that
charade!
And climbed the hill, and first decided,
that since --
those tawdry folk, derided,
were not worth knowing -- 'just that
squirrel,
and Thou, oh Lord. My faith did pearl.
A bit of sand
it was, back then,
amidst a sticky, tarry, fen
"Which God are you?"
I came to ask --
from deep behind my cynic's mask.
The next six
years You answered me,
as quite indeed You always had.
It took that
long 'till I'd agree --
I had to hit that apogee,
The Camus book,
astronomy,
Before I'd see You --- and be glad.
Oh, I had seen
You oft before,
in pain and plenty, hurt and health,
but You were
Big and I, a nothing,
I, so helpless -- You, so ....WEALTH.
So I
just blamed You for the evil --
deep behind my mask, it was.
You?
You smiled, despite my cavil,
And led me to Your Truth:
"because".
Did I do aught that You should favor?
No, I merely
breathe, and so
You did orchestrate and flavor
every circumstance,
to show
You're ALIVE! And now I savor
Truth of You -- which thus I
KNOW.
Magic, this, or miracles' circus?
"Vision", dream, or
hocus-pocus?
Yearning so and thus twist-turn?
A fancied "Truth" to
sate that "burn"?
No! You are Too Good, Too Wise;
You simply
made the facts quite clear;
despite my running-Jonah-tries,
and lame
excuses, all my lies,
You laid the data 'fore my eyes,
and taught me
how to hear.
And so, by 18, my search ended;
every faith I had
befriended,
every argument pro and con,
which man is wont to argue
on,
I learned and loved, and yes, debated,
only to find 'em
empty-crated,
'til at last that goofy Book,
which so many fundies
thumped,
proved itself in sooth. It took
a long time to admit I
"slumped" --
but, then, at last, I did.
Fighting You's an
occupation!
Still I see that trend unfold,
Yet Your Word,
Emancipation,
Locks captivity in its hold.
You yet! give me the
key, and I,
wound up! in blind emotion's pull,
turn that key in
lock, and sigh
as dead Pandora's sin springs full.
Yet, as time
has passed, the turning,
has a lesser, lower, burning --
rather
more distracted to
His Casque of Thoughts, so Open, True,
I quite
forget the key's so near!
because I am too busy learning.
More
and More the Spirit teaches --
as He does, the learning
reaches
round and round Pandora's box,
wrapping it in
cloth-of-gold,
never adding to the locks,
never takes the key I
hold,
just preserves the freedom, there --
His Word above His Name!
I stare:
and so forget to sin...
The "glory" that was sin,
forgetting,
Seeing Him instead, abetting
Circulating Doctrine,
now,
My "glory"'s in the sin UNUSED!
YOU made it so when Christ
You fused
our sins to Him upon that Cross,
and YOU exchanged
depraved mind,
of "good and evil", for a kind
Which Paid our Debt
--- and pays to us
His Doctrine's Heart! You us endow.
YOU hear
our thoughts, and thus demand,
His Thinking be poured in our
souls,
Our lives with You, with Him, in Hand,
Blessed are we whom He
controls.
So every day, the key's less used,
and ever more I am
infused,
With Doctrine -- Him -- am saturated
As YOU demand,
propitiated.
How so Rich! Your Son in me?!
Yes! "just because" He
prayed I'd be...!
Thank you, Father, ever Gracious,
for your
Patience, Punishment, Care --
Thank You for Your passing over
my
hard-heartedness of yore
Thank You for Him, every second!
Thank You
for Him, ever more!