if i could tell him¹
if he would listen,
he could talk like me
he could be with me
now and for eternity.
how hard could it be?
"if you were to die tonight...?"
or
"are you all paid up on
your
eternal life insurance policy?"
or how about just asking:
"ever heard of Jesus?"
but i'm afraid i'll offend,
that he'll just walk away,
he'll not talk to me again
that he won't be my friend.
imagine how he'll feel
when all is said and done,
and he learns, too late,
my fear to so care
killed him.
faith comes from hearing
the word of God, about Jesus,
and that means through me;
with me He dropped His mic.
hiding my light from others,
not salting the meat i share;
how much do i really love
those who don't know why?
would i not toss a lifebuoy
to a drowning man,
or lend a saving hand
to a man on a cliff's edge?
it seems clear, plain to
me
no matter whether he
chooses to listen
or chooses not,
tell him, i
must, i
will.
Proverbs 24:11
¹This weekend, when we were
all
together, I saw how relatively
easily four of the five
of us
could speak to one another
in
the language of believers
in
Jesus the Christ. One of
us,
however, stood still among
us,
rather uncomfortably, maybe
even
a bit defiantly, in conspicuous
silence. The above poem
is my
internal response to my
thoughts
and feelings at the time
and
since then. |
