This portrait on the wall I see right in front of me
In the limelight, it’s revealing its true texture
As woven threads of colour in glorious tapestry
Taking a closer look, the imperfections magnify
But the light’s no longer shining, and the darkness spreads;
Hovering over every nook and cranny
Wait! Hold on! What is this I see?
That messed up portrait looks just like me
Oh what a scary sight to look so deformed and unrefined.
Thoughts began to creep in, and my heart do they bind
Now, my sin eating from the inside out, it burns!
Sin forming a rift between creator and creation
Need I continue in my sin that His grace may abound proportionally?
Yes? No? Maybe so? Of course not!
Remembering that God stands the same, unshaken in all things
Pulling together His own with harmonic strings
Not as a puppeteer, but as a shepherd tends the sheep,
Yes the sheep, chosen out of the good pleasure of His will, so deep.
Why should I continue to displease a God
Who was incarnated as my form, yet a perfect being,
Living life He loved me; Rejected, He was willing to accept,
Oh what unfathomable grace, so sweet, so sound.
And God, using broken men to establish His fixed plans
Making use of man’s frailty to exhibit the power that He holds
In the depths of His hands.
No one compares how great Thou art,
You who was, and is, and is to come,
No doubt how great Thou art.
Lord, I wanna one day look down at the seas, and in them
See my reflection looking just like yours,
So send the winds and storms to align me
And put me on your treadmill, so that I’ll shed off unwanted fats.
Uphold me with truth in Your word, when I’m tempted
To stray away from the way of Your ways
No longer blinking, twitching, looking side to side, or
Distracted by the sounds of mythological sirens
Turning to You always, in solitude,
Or with noise ever increasing with magnitude
Even with the crescendo of my attitude
Let me wholly Yours, consecrated, activated,
validated, and enumerated as Yours
And You being elevated… my cause
For years, I’ve watched this painting fade,
And transmogrify into unseemly true sights,
With fear and trembling, I meticulously
Keep it clean as could be
Wiping the edges and the frame that houses the portrait within
But the more I try, the more I fail, it seems
The intensity of my efforts are proportional
To my failure and disappointment
But reading His word and listening to Him now I see one word..
SURRENDER! Let go of it all..
No other solution to keep me from taking a fall
The time for the auction came, the painting still unready,
What can I do?
Who would buy this; with its wretched, imperfect design
Ignorant of impeding outcome I was to witness,
I scavenge for a sign.
Hiding my face in shame and being concealed by shadows in the corner,
I await the verdict and judgment to be made on the painting;
Waiting for the expected.
But wait, what’s that I hear?
GOING…. GOING…GONE! ….SOLD!
Woah! How on earth? Such ephemeral ecstasy filled my heart.
It’s been purchased, by who?
I ask taken aback by the impossibility
I checked the price by which it was bought…
THE BLOOD, yes THE BLOOD!
And even in my deepest oblivion at the obscurity
And all the happenings contradicting my preconceived philosophical system
All I did was believe, yes believe!
That my hope for true love, so sweet
was not a mere fairytale wish.
Here I stand in awe of His metamorphosing work in me
And it’s His Spirit working on the inside-out
Why do I deserve the Potter’s work of perfecting His Clay?
And molding it into fine pottery?
Oh what privilege to have the carpenter furnish, polish, refurbish
With His plan to establish a remarkable and unscathed furniture.
And though I ride on a rollercoaster, through life’s journeys
With its bends, twists, spirals with every turn
He remains the anchor of my soul,
No doubt, HE is my solid Rock,
Foundation and cornerstone
And when society’s gossip about me is my anomaly
I embrace my peculiarity, and strive to conform to His identity
And He, hanging, my painting on His precious wall,
Making all His scrupulous adjustments and finishing touches
My eyes herald the beauty in humble adoration
Of the Virtuoso’s perfecting perfections
Lord steady my aim
As I pick up the ball – my life
And throw it to Your hoop, please catch it
Let it not bounce off the rim or miss altogether
Into and through the hoop, let it in I pray
Strength’s coming in, and I regain my stance
It feels like the father’s teaching His child to walk to walk for the first time
Yes walk, walk to the extremes and four corners of the world,
Sharing vehemently with every meeting, ONE.
The ONE who purchased me with His blood,
And cleansed me from my sins;
More potent than any branded disinfectant known.
Enclose me in Your Grace chamber and gas me up to saturation
Not a déjà vu of the holocaust, but the motivation for the follow-cost
And beautify my feet, with adornments
that speak of your justice, mercy and love
And convict the many, yeah, the lost;
who need Your map to find their way home.
Finally Lord be the magnet and I the iron filings
And call me back to Your purpose which You intended for me
That the painting displayed on Your wall,
In light or in darkness,
Would glorify and please You with its infused beauty.
K. O. poetry