Poetry

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“From the east I summon a bird of prey; from a far-off land, a man to fulfill
my purpose. What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned
that will I do”
Isaiah 46:11 (NIV)



“The Source of the Summoned”

When storms unleash their anger,
And waves the winds make roll,
Man’s hand can no longer help,
“Nature” reigns and takes control.

When locusts swarm, and butterflies flit,
Wild beasts nightly stalk their prey,
Each creature, whether large or small,
Is by “instinct” shown the way.

Golden wheat grows in a farmer’s field,
Roses bloom from a pruning hand.
Both are birthed from the earth,
When sun and rain kiss the land.

Nature, instinct, sun and rain,
All subject to a higher power,
For God’s the one who controls them,
Minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour.

Unlike the roses, locust, and storms,
Who have no right to a “yes,” or “no,”
We as humans have the choice
To say where we want to go.

The cruel cross gives us choice,
And the empty tomb lies bare-
We either control our lives,
Or repeat the “sinner’s prayer.”

Give control of your life,
To the one “Lord of All.”
For when He has control,
We heed His summoned call!

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