Gethsemane: A Poem

Loving a broken person has caused me pain. I lament for what could have been; for them and for me. But love forgives again and again, since ‘love covers over a multitude of sins’. And the source of my love is not myself. Love is not that I have loved God, but that he loved me and sent his son, the true vine, to lay down his life for me.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you.

Abide in my love.

John 15:9

Gethsemane

Only after the precious jewel was taken hold of,
thrown to the ground,
shattered and skittered,
was it gifted to me,
and where I would have polished
and velvet-encased, until death’s release
I gathered shards, cutting skin.

Blood dripped and cried out,
witness to another’s
loveless hands,
and my task seemed impossible
but for you,
my willing Lord.

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Little While Trials

Photo by Ryan Parker on Unsplash

I felt them in my wife’s tummy before they even entered the world. I knew them when they needed us for everything. I feel towards them a protective instinct that even I don’t always understand. It’s an absolutely right and an inherent desire that I do not want my children to suffer. Something would be wrong if I was ambivalent about it; but I equally believe it’s naïve to think that my children will not suffer in this earthly life.

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