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What is left to say ...?


James 4:8 

8 Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners;

and purify your hearts, you double-minded.

 

What is left to say?

 

“I did not know?”... will that make a difference?

Is that not given to all of us ... to be sensitive in the Spirit?

Where is there to go ... if brotherhood becomes a hindrance

and the reborn family ... moves sideways to inherit?

 

Is not the path before us ... narrow and designed straight?

Is it not paved with promises ... written in the Heart of God?

Is it not in such ... that we envision the small gate

where Christ leads us in loneliness ... as we falter oft?

 

Is not the path lined with all ... who influence our lives?

Is not the imprint of our meetings ... recorded in the hereafter?

If we stand or fall ... with our brothers and their wives

is that not a blessing ... to show us our true Master?

 

What is left to say ... if you close the curtain to your heart?

Where is one to go ... when one’s presence is not wanted?

Who is now to pay ... when we’re growing farther apart?

Who is to know ... when relationships get abandoned?

 

Where is healing needed ... when wounds are not recognized?

“Is there no balm in Gilead?” when one crawls in one’s own corner.

What is superseded ... if a heart is divided twice?

Is it not the start of a myriad ... as it grows to like you own it?

 

Are we not one in Spirit ... are we not intertwined?

Is not the tie that binds ... beyond our comprehension?

Is not our favorite ... the One Who with us wines and dines

as His Righteousness shines ... to remove all frustration?

 

Where does love reside ... when we are uncertain?

Where does hope breathe ... encouragement to our souls?

Where is the free ride ... when our flesh is flirting

with the underneath ... tearing at God’s goals?

 

The mind keeps on screaming: “You just don’t know

if you had a clue ... you would understand”

Yep! Maybe the only meaning ... as onwards we go

is for me and you ... to cling to the Savior’s Hand.

 

Jan Wienen

 

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