Looking out over the amber grains, I wonder, what makes you think you know…. I listen to scholars who spend their life learning. I sit in the congregation and scratch my head, as men of cloth, read and try to interpret the Word. I watch the deacons share the sacraments on Friday night; not exactly, your church wine. I’ve been welcomed into homes that I will not for a minute, live in; all the figures of Jesus permeates on their musty, hall walls. I wonder how Christ would feel to know that those who adore His name, leave little admiration.
Though I walk through the fields of grain and listen to the winds whistle out your name, I can’t help but wonder, what do you think you know? Oh, I read a book or two and even went so far as to memorize a verse or so; but, the messages you need to learn aren’t between those leather covers. It’s, rather, the way you address your fellow friends today, as they stand and watch your every move. Falling short, I never lose sight of who’s in charge – our Father in heaven – He who makes miracles happen; the one we need to know!
Our God, an awesome power, can do no wrong. He directs our every thought and action as we wake in the early morning. Our stamina, strength, perseverance and promise, makes us whole through God.
Watching from a picnic bench, I find more comfort from an old, black man in a three piece suit that’s worked all his life, than a college graduate who has little wisdom. I think about the philosophers and astronomers that try to predict the weather; an unpredictable force but mankind falsely believes it. Moses, though, got it right! He, a murderer that God used to the good, understood the facts of life.
Today, I rant like a mother guarding her nest – “who are you to tell me how to live? You think you know?” I watch so many with the good Book in their hands. They are the first to ruin faith with their fellow man. In contrast, I strive to be first in restoring the basic principles that God asks us to observe in His name. Shallow as a puddle by a curb, we can’t help but see the weak who think they are strong.
The winds rest now and even the grain remains reverent to the Father. As I leave a path walking through the grain, I pray I never lose sight that it’s better to live by, than to hide in, the book of Christ; others do not seem to comprehend. I sit and review my journey and I hope, someone, will see where I once walked. May they find my footsteps as I remain vigilant to the their ways; where some merely feel that figures on a wall or a Book on the dash, will direct their future.
Only in faith, will Christ live on….