Some of us are searching
For the right word,
Like the Centurian who asked: "Lord,
Only say the word, and
My servant shall be healed."
Others are lost and
Need only a gesture from you
As Philip did:
"Lord, show us the way."
Some of us are still struggling
With prehistoric monsters
Like resentment. And we
Bite our lips because
We have to go back and ask you once more
So dumb a question as Peter
Blurted out: "Lord,
How often can my brother offend me,
And I still forgive him?"
Finally, there are those beside us
Who do not have the heart
For any more questions.
They don't even know what to ask
And pray blindly
Through their tears
Simply for you to sit beside them
As you did John that night.
And if there is anyone
Who could not bear that much light
Would you please nod to them, or
Glance their way, or remember them,
Lord, as you promised you would the thief,
"When you come into your Kingdom?"
(Before You Call I Will Answer by David A. Redding, p. 83)
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