Saturday, October 5, 2013

Peter, Toward the Fiery End

Image by Caravaggio
And here I sit
In this little cottage.
The flock are afraid
As the Imperial wolf roams
Seeking whom it may devour.
The Master told me
These days would come.
But also that I
Would feed his sheep.
That morning on the shore
When fish and bread
And His dauntless words
Pulled my heart back.
And He has never failed
His visitings
To the inner man
Almost as real to me now.
And I surprise myself
Submission, patience,
Forbearance, peace
Things never to have been found
In that blustering Fisherman
Of former days.
All of His work
This I know.
And now He promises
Swift dismissal.
He will sustain.
A few searing moments
And then the Light.
I am ready.
The Master is at hand.
And I think it not strange.

1 Peter 4: 12, 13

Post script: Upon completing this I received a “like” from Shannon Moreno over at “Revelations in Writing”, an excellent blog filled with glorious poetic images of our faith inheritance. I clicked at random on the email notice of her visit and got a post from September 17th with the following comment:
“The long and valiant fight of my dear friend, Anne, has come to a close. Last evening, I had the joy of holding her hand as she struggled to breathe her last breaths. She went from suffering struggle to perfect peace, in but a moment.
As I was praying for her during the day, seated by her side, God showed me such a sweet picture, and I was actually able to share it with Aine (On-ya), while she was still able to respond. I saw Jesus with outstretched arms, and Aine ran to Him, as a carefree child. He scooped her up and they twirled around and around. When they stopped, Aine rested her head over His heart and He held her close. He spoke and told Aine, “each heartbeat you hear, is just for you.” When she was ready, He set her down, took her hand, and led her along the streets of gold, showing her all that He had prepared for her.”

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