where I work, where I toil,
where we worship,
where my wife, my girls are with me,
where we live
in this place where I am planted
as if by living streams of water
this tree planted here.
May I find him here, not some distant land,
standing beside me in my struggles
walking with me on this journey
holding my hand when I step out in faith
cheering with me in my joys
in those moments when I notice,
when I am present, when I feel his grace
(not that his grace is ever lacking),
when I am aware,
May I find his face, his presence, here
with me now, right where I am
April 2, 2009
The following poem was posted to the www.christianpoetry.org site on April 1, 2009, my 49th birthday. I received a comment about seeking Christ in the holy land when we should seek him where we live. The poem above came from this.
----
Traveling Far
Unlike the shepherds,
on a nearby hillside, watching their sheep.
Not called by a choir of angels,
a chorus of heavenly host.
Reading the signs, as they did in Jerusalem,
traveling far, following his star.
By a faithfulness, greater than the people
the chosen ones.
Bringing gifts, these gifts,
in fulfillment, the birth, their gifts.
Believing where the select, the chosen did not,
traveling far, with real faith.
Following the star, the signs,
the coming of the newborn king.
January 2, 2009
Isaiah 60:1-6
Matthew 2:1-12
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Poetry Where You Live.
