teacher

It came to me upon a midnight clearing,
When my soul, through life, was also hearing
The times and seasons God wanted me to be
In His will, In His love,
In His thinking,
I was, wanted to be
In the throes of love,
The king was calling me.


He asked me, mind you,
I was not asleep,
These things I remember
Clearly, it was a time for me
To hear from the Lord,
What, O son, do you
Want to be adored,
Remembered for
In this life,
In this world,
In this common core?


I asked, and the Lord answered me.
He kept me on His radar
So that I could see,
Be in His will,
In His lively truth,
In the posture
Of one, God whom
Did you ask of such a thing,
These were my thoughts,
My musings.


I asked of the Lord.
He answered me.
I remembered, later,
That before I had gone to sleep,
A mysterious, profound question
Caught hold of me.
Maybe in my tiredness,
I was too weak
To realize
Servants ask not such things.


I let from my mouth
Slip unto my God
A question, I am still —
In awe I should have been
Before my ecclesiastic upbringing
Instilled in me, anyway—
I asked, and here is what
He said.


God, why do you make Your hand
So heavy on me;
The illness, the isolation,
Dyssymmetry,
Out of line
With all I know,
No body is close
To me it seems
I was destined
For pain when, “Yes,”
I begged to You, king?


In a few words,
All these things escaped.
It amazes how few
Errant words can make
Such a difference,
For mal or buen.
Here is what I asked.
Here is what He said.


Dear child, son to me,
Dear one, when you first
Perceived the call
Sent by Me,
Your heart, your mind,
Your growth trajectory
Were where I for
Centuries through many
Lives, ancestry,
Sought to be
For this line of,
Call it DNA,
To be from beginning
To eternity,
So listen, bend to Me.


The pain you feel,
And pain, real,
Brings about triumph,
Victory, brings
True teaching,
It is designed to
Prove, reveal, conceive—
Your flesh you choose,
Or through the grief
You rely, choose,
Learn to trust Me—
Here you discovered
A fresh teaching.
The teachers who taught you
In their flowing robes,
In cathedraled ceilings,
Know now in low
Estate they, though set
Above you to teach,
Not a one
Better than in your grief
Had chosen Me.