Caught in this dreadful storm,
we are tossed like so much
shredded confetti
until our cries reach
the Master's sleeping ears.
Almost annoyed,
He shushes the wind and
whitecaps with a glance,
then turns disappointed eyes -
lighthouse slashes through
silent blackness -
on our stunned
and fearful selves.
Chaotic oceans -
vast forces that roil and swirl,
inchoate and insatiable -
who can tame them?
Only One stronger than
Nature itself -
One supernatural,
metaphysical,
bound not by Nature's laws.
Who is this man?
He is wrapped
in our humanity,
yet
stronger than any force.
No power,
no principality
in heaven or on earth
can overcome Him
without His willing
submission.
So, as chaos gathers
in hordes
and slaps greedily
against the sides
of our ship,
we will trust Him
who is Stronger,
though He may
seemingly sleep.
When weakness shivers
our bones
and broken glass
cruelly carpets
the path ahead,
the Stronger One
is there
to lead us through.
Magnetic pressure
warps us out of plumb -
away from our ideal selves -
and statics our connection
to the Father.
Yet we stray into danger
again and again.
Into the murky Jordan
Jesus plunged.
As He rose, dripping,
God cracked heaven wide
in a galaxy grin
and showered blessing
down.
Once again the Spirit
hovered over waters,
stirring up new life,
then pulled Jesus sandward.
Tramping
over sterile terrain,
He faced pressures
to conform, to satisfy,
to escape pain, to play with power;
tempted in every way as we are.
For forty days He
was assaulted,
bombarded, pulled
and pummeled,
yet did not give in.
Powerful forces
ignite turmoil,
draw us - willing or not -
into their whirlpools
and we drown.
Through waves
of shame and
self-loathing
the Stronger One
reaches a hand
to guide us back
to our
True Selves.
We look back to forge ahead -
pausing on the trail
to catch our breath.
Fellow travelers gather 'round,
some joined just now,
some footsore and travel-worn
but grinning through the grit.
Some wounded souls gasp for air,
hands on knees and heads bent low;
stragglers trudge in clouds of dust,
streaked faces still aglow.
The trail winds back
through scrub and pine,
down rock-strewn gullies,
o'er rivers wide.
We recall the boulders -
seemingly impossible to scale,
the triumphs hard won
and setbacks enough to challenge
even the hardiest of souls.
We marvel yet at answered prayers,
moments of beauty unparalleled:
echoing canyons, skies achingly blue,
vistas stretched like oil-painted canvas
incredibly huge.
On the trail ahead
we see throngs to be,
cheerful hikers in twos and threes
embarking on side paths
surrounded by trees;
outsiders welcomed to hearth and home,
warmed and nourished to fuller bloom,
befriended and valued as unique boons.
We envision friends yet unknown,
who'll come alongside;
those we can encourage and
lead and inspire.
We hope for calm weather
but pack up rain gear,
realistic but hopeful
for the upcoming year.
