Grace is almighty and yet so many Christians, myself most definitely included, don’t seem to be anywhere remotely near the impressiveness of the early Church community. The Church in Britain seems to be in a very run down state. Why aren’t we more impressive in our love and devotion?
If God’s grace is never insufficient,
Why is it that time and again I fail?
If faith is the crucial determinant,
And itself a grace, how will I prevail?
If I need firm faith to unwrap His grace,
How then will my faith ever grow?
Is it perhaps my inconstant will that
Stymies His will with sin’s embargo?
I gladly acknowledge the Gospel’s pledge,
That our God is a God of new beginnings,
And mercy alone can open heaven’s gate,
Else there is no purpose to life’s innings.
Yet… He has a plan for me – holiness:
Both to fulfil my heart’s raw yearning,
And draw others to His most vital love.
Mercy notwithstanding, I keep on spurning.
You need me God for the Kingdom’s coming:
And pick me up with a father’s tenderness,
But Your children’s suffering continues apace,
While I, poem writing, rue my brokenness.
What does it mean to ‘run the race’, and
Run to the finish? Is distance then the key?
That we never attain the pace of the saints,
But we go as Church, limping into eternity.
You then Lord see Your will being thwarted,
Again and again and again. My frustration,
Is surely nothing when compared to Your’s:
As You wait, as You ache for our salvation.
Is it then humility to celebrate one’s frailty?
To wallow in mediocrity, assured of mercy?
Or should we keep the bitter taste of failure,
As unpleasant heartburn, short of sanctity?
Mayhap all I will have to show at the finish,
Are the blisters of my continued stumbling?
Lapped, with passion no more than lukewarm,
And hope that mercy will forestall my humbling.