My hassles, anger, guilt and fear.
Escape from these I seek.
Without the Voice there is no point
in coming week by week.
Sometimes to me, or to us both
comes one word, or a few.
A word can be there for us all,
even the preacher, too.
We screwed up big, could be my fault.
I hide where none can see.
Voice finds me out, says “I forgive!”
Now what? “Forgive, like Me.”
The storm’s so big and I’m afraid.
For sympathy I front up.
Instead, Voice paints a picture huge.
My storm is in a teacup.
Their stand is ludicrous. I come
for help to blow it wide.
Then gradually I realise
the Voice is on their side.
I put them in their place this week.
“Well done!” I hope to hear.
Instead of commendation
comes silence loud and clear.
I came with preconceived ideas
Of what the Voice selected.
They’re blown away, so now I must
expect the unexpected.
The Voice could give a special word
to each of us the same.
A word of love which brings His church
the power to up our game.
Peter Dixon