if i could tell him

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

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.

by J Alan R
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