Respite for the Remnant

It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the honour of kings is to search out a matter. (Proverbs 25:2 KJV)

As I recall,

his name was Sam.

He came to the neighborhood prayer group

once in awhile,

slow on his cane,

gnarled fingers clenching

a well-worn KJV

mottled and creased, yet

kept safe from

time, tempest (and tears?)

–one could only imagine

his years.

When the rest of us had finished

laying down our aches and pains,

prodigals and praise,

on the altar of the

community room sanctuary,

Sam carefully

peeled open

a creased paper

wedged in the pages of the book.

His verses

–etched by fading eyesight–

came from some recent revelation

in Psalms, epistles,

Numbers or narratives,

wherever his ear

was attuned that week.

Like a modern Job, I thought,

fresh from listening

to God unfolding the

mysteries of the universe

that any of us can hear

when we draw near

with calm eye and

quiet ear

–amid pain like Job

or not–

stilling the sights and sounds of

wars and rumors of wars,

without and within,

to see and hear God

for a spell.

When it was his turn,

Sam read his simple poems in sotto voice

inspired by a verse or two from his little black treasure chest…

where that other poetry man,

the Poet of poets,

dwells “yesterday, today, and forever,”

binding together every page and book

into the story of our salvation

writ in blood on coarse timber,

impaled by 3 rough-cast nails,

crowned with thorns

of cruelty and of pain

as He allowed Himself, God’s only perfect Son,

to be the Unblemished Sacrifice

for blemished humanity.

Selah

Those many years ago,

with fading voice and faltering hand, Sam

brought the “apples of gold in settings of silver”

he had discovered that week in his old KJV, ready

to share then.

And even today.

Although the poetry man

is long, now, walking streets of gold

the Fatherload remains for us.

And I discover another

of his and His treasures to share with you,

dear reader,

mined between the lines of the treasure book,

underneath creek beds,

above the exosphere bound only to God.

What I bring today is from Proverbs chapter 25, verse 2

where it is revealed that even paupers are honored kings,

rheumy eyes see clear,

tired ears hear,

and the glory of matter

(and of a matter)

is gifted us, too, when

we make our requests known to God,

inclining eye and ear to Him

until we feel His breath,

know His smile, and

comprehend

a little bit more

about His love for us

–line upon line, precept upon precept,

book upon chapter and verse.

Thank you, poetry man

and Poetry Man,

from here to then

and eternity.