Waiting
amid life’s bustle,
we let worldly habits
take hold and fester
until they become
noxious and we
need a miracle
just to bring us
to our knees.
Confession
starts our healing,
so that we cry out
in glad relief
while tears descend
like morning dew.
But have we broken
the habit’s strong hold,
or merely viewed
a precious wild lily,
one valley over?
A cheering sun rises.
Then pensive clouds
heavy with hailstones
suddenly plummet
into a graphite sky.
Nocturnal wind chills,
but God reaches down
as He does in
Michelangelo’s ceiling
in the Sistine Chapel.
When mercy comes,
we see how important
we are to God,
Who wants to make us
holy. Even light
from the sun makes
a shadow of our image
where light would have
descended to the ground
had we not been there.
Grace follows mercy,
which follows expectant faith
no matter how many times
we go round and round
until saving faith
leads us safely home.