I am still amazed by the Fatherís grace and how it far exceeds all bounds of space, or time, or place, to touch just one heart and lift a cast down face so burdened by disgrace.
The Fathers love, which makes the way for words to shape a living thing to be his own, changed from old to new; to make one fresh and alive again though torrid years have drawn furrowed scares which hide old wounds inside.
I heard of how he touched a boy of nine, and spoke the words ďhe is mineĒ. As angles swooped to guide his tender feet along a path so steep grown men failed to gain their stride, or even end with pride. Just a boy but not a boy a man, finding place in the Fatherís plan; never giving in or giving up, only reaching out to take the Fatherís hand. Trust the voice he never heard or even whispered, he gladly answered; faithfully forward he knew to go and grew to stand, and to show the Fatherís love. Before a bounty the Father planned, this man came to give a healing hand and a gentle word, as a servant of the sovereign Lord.
This same sweet grace that shelters as the younger grow saves aged men from darkest hell to heavenís light-as surely as a rushing wind can blow, but gentle is that whisperís song. Mindless causes drag men down to every pit, clutching at the twisting wind but falling still. How the Fatherís love moves about, like a wind that comes from far away to ruffle every twig and bow, lifting withered leaves of gold to swirling heights untold; an image kin to spirits lost then found.
Creation blends with grace and loves to manifest in ways only the Father knows, so mysteries unfold before the blinded eyes that once were old, and the plan of God unfolds. He builds from stones of rugged roads, broken hopes and weak resolves a man whose heart is made of words that quiet fears as hopes arise. Exposed to evilís bloody trials, a broken life but then revived the Fatherís love has captured him to be inspired, and conspired in the willing work of that sheltered boy, whoís now empowered to deploy the gifts of God through word and song and joy.
Vision in the Fatherís plan needs words to find the path at hand, a picture painted by the Masterís hand as phrases flowing from heart to pen, and then to heart again. Together three will finally say ďI in them and you in me to see them united in knowing you sent me, and love them as you love meĒ.