I wrote the following poem on December 14, 2014. Every Sunday since that time I have been waiting for the door to open for my return to doing what I love to do, encourage people. On this cold, overcast Sunday in December I typed these thoughts. To all who read these words, you are in my heart.
This dreary overcast Sunday in my city,
Presses on my soul and pushes me toward self-pity.
I traded the joys of serving the Father of my salvation,
In order to satisfy my flesh and surrender to its demand for personal gratification.
With each passing Sunday I am also awakened by a supernatural pull,
That reaches to me from the heavens to address my Sabbath lull.
It’s an encouraging, yet painful, reminder that God’s call still burns,
So, it’s no longer about my past but His purpose for which my heart yearns.
I do believe that I have a future and wonderful days ahead,
And on one Sunday in the months to come my call will revisit me as I rise from my bed.
I long once again for those early Sunday mornings with His Spirit,
I know His voice and if I carefully listen I’m sure that I will here it.
I can only pray that the lessons I’ve learned this year,
Will be like lighthouse rays that remind me when danger is near.
There will always be obstacles and angry waves on life’s seas,
In order to navigate these ominous moments I simply drop to my knees.
It’s in this posture of prayer that I surrender all,
My face toward the Son and my back to the wall.
It’s simply another Sunday without a place to speak,
But I will continue to trust my God for yet another week.
I will be ready when it’s time for my voice to be heard,
Knowing that my work for him has merely been deferred.
So as I wait to hear Him call my name again,
I will awaken each morning to “so be it”, a biblical amen.