Why is it
When we shake our
fists at God
We forget
To unclench our
fingers
And stare at our
palms…
…are there nail scars
there?
Why is it
That we hunger and
thirst
For crumbs on the
floor
When the Banquet
Feast
Is prepared and ready
to serve
On the table
Why is it
That even as we cry
‘all is grace’
Doubt is an evil
serpent
With fangs gaping
And all we can do is
cry
‘I believe’
And ‘help my
unbelief’?
Why is it
When our mouths
hemorrhage with curses
We forget;
The one thing we can
never utter
Is redemption
His final words
Before He died
Why is it
That we choose to
Die of thirst
in the wilderness
Beside a well
Of Living Water?
Opposite...
It is this way…
When we quiet our
thoughts
We remember
As we fold our hands
To see His palms
And the nail-scars
there…
It is this way…
Though we deserve to
starve
Even His crumbs are a
miracle
And the feast on the
Table
Never depletes
It is enough
It is this way
Even as we cry ‘why’?
Faith is the wonder
Of things heavenly
Succoring our
disbelief
With power that
Can never be
explained
It is this way…
As our hearts shape
His praises
We remember
The fullness of Him
From our pitiful
state
He saves us
It is this way…
His love for our hate
His Bread for our
hunger
His Water for our
thirst
Eternal life, through
Him
In place of death
© Janet Martin
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