Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Why Could We Not Cast It Out (Mark 9)

Keep me ever in mind of my nature
An extended arm, no less, a finger
A dust mote from your fingernail
Settling down dispensing a flavor of you
A shining from inside me
Leavings of your work
Keep me ever grateful for your breath
In my lungs, your tempo in my heart
Your Spirit infusing my spirit
And any attractions I offer, outside myself
Minute shards of glory in my speech
Keep me humble, keep me small
So that your raising me on the last day
Be full more miraculous


   Sunday's sermon was on the demon possessed boy the disciples couldn't heal. Pastor suggested that perhaps the disciples couldn't heal because they somehow slipped under the impression that they could heal. To God ever be the glory.

2 comments:

  1. That is a wonderful point as well as poem. Too often we forget it's God that does the healing.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Ben. That's definitely what I was going for. :-)

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