The Call

I cannot grasp nor hold in my hands
the delicate whisper of God's call
but I know that it is birthed
in the pangs of my deliverance
through blood and sorrow-soaked repentance
from my beguilement with death
my resistance to life
and in the story of His faithfulness to me

Perhaps it began before the constellations were designed
before my universe was knit together in my mother's womb
But I know He set eternity in my heart
before that heart did beat
He Himself breathed life
and gathered up that wind
coupled it with a spirit like a free and feral horse
and made it mine

He called me by name when I was too young for words
He wrapped me in his arms as His own
He granted me His presence like the sun offers light
And I must tell His story
I must see His story, when He shares with me His scars
when He shares with me His eyes
so that I can speak that vision
into the thirsty lives of those who die around me

I must bind at every turn the insidious addictions
that hinder the transformation of his bride
that others might be delivered
from their own beguilement with death
I am to bless the bonding that nurtures human souls
I am to honor and remember those who go before
I am to love and be loved
I am to fight, to thrive

I cannot grasp nor hold in my hands
the fragile flicker of light that is life
it hides in my lungs as I breathe
it animates my heart
but I must offer it and all I have
to the call, to the vision, to the fight,
to thrive
a living sacrifice