I have been thinking, praying too often these last two days the throw-away expletive His counsel, this officer of the court His taking of the saviorâ€™s name an exasperation, a common swear, blurted into the air, setting quite an example A moment of witness, lost there, by me a clumsy fumbled response, catching him; but weak
Oh to be stronger, to state my faith to claim the offense of that casual, that all too real sin, another nail, another striking, the nails of the cross; to claim my savior in those moments these moments of witness, to call out a light in the darkness, the coarseness the crassness of our times.
To be the voice of John, and uncomfortable witness, standing in the cold waters out in the wilderness, urging repentance, a change of heart to be certain enough, sure enough standing up, at the reckoning speaking out â€“ blasphemer! That is my king! Your savior too, if you will but claim him, as your own.
Let me never miss, let me be counted Give voice to the right, to the spirit even in the casual, throw-away moments of faith Teach me Lord to fight, to speak your glory to add salve to your wounds Not meekly allowing another blow on the nail heads. To catch his hand as he swings the hammer; Saying, No, that is not okay, whatever your view.