THE PLOW OF THE LORD

THE PLOW OF THE LORD

The Plow of the Lord
Does harrow man deep
With horrors unmeasured
Disasters all steeped,
As high as a pyre
As cold as a barrow
Bone shattered shards
Grief sharp as an arrow,

The Plow of the Lord
Like an unsharpened axe
Beats ‘gainst the mind
On the soul grimly hacks,
The body is frail
When the blade passes through
When the plow breaks the Earth
Of the flesh that is you,
The Spirit is willing
Able, and true, but
The Plow is relentless
We all know it’s true,
There’s a blade in the hand
Of the Lord that is sharp
Do as you will
It still cuts to the Heart,
Yet the Plow of the Lord
As it shears you away
As it grinds and it harries
By night and by day
Prepares you for planting
Scours you for seed
To plant something better
In hope and in deed,
The Plow of the Lord
Is heavy with weight
It turns and it churns
All men as if clay,
It slices his veins, and
Opens his blood
Hooks out his roots
From the mire and mud,
Tears (tares) out a furrow
For the storm and the rain
Displaces the stones
Which all scream with the pain,
Makes a way for the sunlight
To illumine the ground
A place to start digging
When the treasure is found
For God knows that under –
Neath the soil of our sin
Lies a pearl deeply buried
That His Plow will upend.

 

WAITING ON GOD

Waiting on God to save the world I never raised my hand
I trusted him to do it all as was his holy plan
I thought he’d cure my poverty, I thought he’d make me smart
I thought he’d make me popular so I’d not stand apart
I thought he’d answer all my prayers, isn’t that his job?
I thought he’d bring me great success and save me from the mob
I thought he’d send me other men to mend and fix myself
I thought he knew my talents weren’t worth taking off the shelf
I thought he’d make me holier than if I (n)ever tried
I hoped he’d make me famous so I’d never be denied
I trusted him to make me strong, no effort on my part
I trusted him to think for me and sanctify my heart
I trusted him to cure my sin and make me into Him
All I had to say was, “Lord!” and it would all begin
He’d do it all, he’d do it all, nothing more from me
Would ever be required as far as I could see
Then I would be the Perfect Man because my God was true
And everything he’d do for me just like I always knew
Yet still I find myself the same and still I’m waiting so
Why has God not fixed it all for me down here below?
I cannot fathom why this is, and why is life so dark?
I said to him, “Here, do it all,” before I disembarked
You’d almost think – no, could it be – that God expects from me
Some effort to repair myself and fix the world I see?
Is that what I’m missing when I shirk it all away
That somehow I might have a part, a part of mine to play?
Oh, now I see, oh, now I hear, yes, all that wasted time
He was always hoping that I’d finally make the climb
I trusted him to do it all as per his holy plan
I never understood, that here, I am his hired hand…