Roshi's ramblings

God's Timing The vision that God has given And the things that He has planned, May not happen right away Or in ways that we understand For often God's preparing us For when that day arrives When we will see the outworking Of God's vision in our lives Though it tarries, wait for it, For it will surely come God's timing never comes too late, He'll accomplish what He's begun God is never slow to act; He will surely bring it to pass We need not be anxious and despair, But have peace within our hearts For when it comes, we'll be released Into what the Lord's prepared, So we will fulfil all that He's planned As we are being gently led. © By M.S.Lowndes

Came across this poem in hearing the call:stories of young vocation.  It sums up for me what the calling can feel like.  It's definitely scary but ultimately worth it. 'When I became a Christian I said, Lord, now fill me in, Tell me what I'll suffer in this world of shame and sin. He said, your body may be killed, and left to rot and stink, Do you still want to follow me? I said Amen - I think. I think Amen, Amen I think, I think I say Amen, I'm not completely sure, can you just run through that again? You say my body may be killed and left to rot and stink, Well, yes, that sounds terrific, Lord, I say Amen - I think. But, Lord, there must be other ways to follow you, I said, I really would prefer to end up dying in my bed. Well, yes, he said, you could put up with the sneers and scorn and spit, Do you still want to follow me? I said Amen - a bit. A bit Amen, Amen a bit, a bit I say Amen, I'm not entirely sure, can we just run through that again? ...

Every saturday I hope to bring a poem or verse to you all that I have enjoyed or found has resonated with me.  Today's one is from the recent SCP conference I attended. The Call From our low seat beside the fire Where we have dozed and dreamed and watched the glow Or raked the ashes, stopping so We scarcely saw the sun or rain Above, or looked much higher Than this same quiet red or burned-out fire. Tonight we heard a call, A rattle on the window pane, A voice on the sharp air, And felt a breath stirring our hair, A flame within us: Something swift and tall Swept in and out and that was all. Was it a bright or a dark angel? Who can know? It left no mark upon the snow, But suddenly it snapped the chain Unbarred, flung wide the door Which will not shut again; And so we cannot sit here any more. We must arise and go: The world is cold without And dark and hedged about With mystery and enmity and doubt, But we must go Though yet we do not know Who called, or...