TITLE: Clay Feet July 18,2012
By Margo McKenzie
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Given the entire garden; choosing the forbidden tree.
The rights of the first born son squandered to pay a porridge fee.
Divinely assigned to Ninevah; opting for Joppa instead.
Elevated to the rank of disciple; stepping down for a silvery spread.
We are called to be sons and joint heirs,
To live a life worthy and sure:
Live strong like the cedars of Lebanon
Exude dignity, deep-rooted stature.
But our clay feet don’t always help us
Travel up paths our calling demands.
We live a dichotomous existence.
Though called to specialty seating, we travel to jam-packed stands
Where our calling has been muffled and the savor of our salt is bland.
Yes, our spirit is willing, but our flesh is sometimes weak.
The good that we would will not; yet the evil that would not, we seek.
You knew all about our predicament,
The opposing choices bombarding our heads. From the day You said, ”Let there be light” to the moment you made man of clay.
So you perfectly made up the difference between what we are and what we should be.
All we can do is live, “Thank you.”
For your perfect work at Calvary.
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