(Analysing a Christian’s mind when doubt enters it, a doubt that for the moment seems shattering but which with the help of the word, the Lord soon makes plain)
My faith is weak, I stumble
when the way gets tough beneath my feet.
My life is His, His work my life,
built on a foundation of faith and substance.
and calm, a
period of lush
pastures, green beside
the mirrored streams
Suddenly like a bird of prey,
wings sweeping space, the wind scorching,
steals the peace, the water still no more, no more
cool, the grass—almost withers, the very
substance of my foundation
shook, trembled the structure above, about
to fall in a shambles. The shield of the
soldier dented, my eyes closed momentarily—blinded.
Suddenly the blur of doubt clears and I see
pure still water, glistening, not a
mirage, on the plain beneath, a refuge
against every wind of doctrine.
Here the still water of the
word revives me, the sharp
blades of dewed grass.
Substance of the hoped for,
evidence of the unseen, faith
I for a moment, a stumbling
soldier, now steadied to strive
with shield and sword.
His work—my life, I go.
6 March 1985
[Disclaimmer: I am not proud of most of the “poetry” that I have penned in my lifetime. I am no poet, but most of these poems were written at times when prose could not have provided the necessary expression and release. My poems are as important to me as singing may to be to someone who is not endowed with a singing voice—it justifyably fulfils a need. Thus, although not primarily meant for the consumption of the wider audience, it has a place in my blog, which, as I have mentioned before, also functions as a platform for my own retrieval and use.]