Lord, you look at me with utter seriousness.
Your eyes are sober and direct.
They pierce to the depths of my soul.
You search me, and you know me.
What are you saying, Jesus?
* * *
The one thing I do know
is that there is no bullshitting you.
And as you look at me, I see
Some of what you see.
And I will rectify this…
For I cannot save myself.
I need your hyssop, your precious blood
To wash me white as snow.
Oh, the paradox!
* * *
Your eyes are serious and calm
Because you see the end from the beginning.
When my faith was a slow germinating seed
When the seedling of my faith was tossed by winds,
Almost blighted by drought,
Trampled by a dog,
Watered with salty tears,
Fertilized with blood and sweat,
Over-fertilized in fits of enthusiasm,
Blighted by big freezes and the great sadness,
When it looked as if it wouldn’t make it,
You saw the tree I would become
And so you were not perturbed.
You looked at me and smiled
Because you beheld the end from the beginning
And you looked at me from eternity
“through corridors of light
where the hours are suns, endless and singing.”
You saw the end from the beginning
and so you say with utter certainty,
all shall be well, all shall be well
all manner of things shall be well.