A life of walls in front of me,
Unending obstacles to see.
Just as one, I finally clear,
Another, greater one appears.
And on, and on, I struggle up,
With cramping hands, deep scrapes and cuts,
With not much strength left in my bones,
I struggle up these walls of stone.
I yearn for peace, and rest at last,
A time to stop, the struggle passed.
But yet, ahead, another wall,
To block my way, my rest forestall
But as I pause, and look behind,
And see the walls that I have climbed.
My thoughts, they come in quiet peace,
Their silent voice my doubts appease.
For plain and simple truth I see,
Im stonger now, my weakness flees,
My walls of stone that caused despair,
Now clearly shown, appear as stairs.
Stairs that lift and guide me up,
Toward the One who drank the cup,
Who, for me, has suffered all,
That I might rise, e’en though I fall.
This stair, this wall, that bruises me,
Makes me work, helps me to see,
How struggle cleanses, bends my knees,
And forges my humility.
My life has walls, and rock debris
But if I climb, with Him I’ll be.
And feel His wounds in hands and feet,
And with Him have my rest complete.
Tuesday February 17, 2015
anthology78 