Psalm 118:5

As we find ourselves at the end of one year and looking forward to a new one, here is a poem I wrote in 1997 that still describes my expectation.

Pregnant at the narrow gate
I cannot press myself through the Rock
Stripped, and every weight laid down,
Disentangled, trembling,
The unpent River bursts me
Through the Cleft-
GLORY

c. 2005 By Lesley Barker

Nothing in my hands

Imagine that I am standing in line waiting for an audience with the King. Ahead of me, everyone bows before him, in turn, and offers him a gift. No matter what the gift, I can tell that he is very pleased by each of them. But, oh, no! I have nothing in my hands to offer him and there is no possible way for me to leave my place in the line to get one. How will he react to my thoughlessness? It is my turn next. I bow low. "I am so sorry, Jesus," I say. "I have nothing to give you. The only thing I have brought for you is these people." The words surprise me, but suddenly, between where I kneel and the throne, there is a parade. I cannot count the number of people who pass between us: adults, children, old people, black people, brown people, white people, poor people, rich people, people from every nation, tribe and tongue. "You pray for the people," he says.
c. 2005 by Lesley Barker