Go to an Old One (again… lowly)




Laid Low



To become small

And needing not

A legacy

A host of strokes

Or kudos from the crowd

Relinquish self

And listen for Another

And sweating not

For credits to be proud.

It’s just to team

With low and gracious only

And hear His heart

Select the tasks so kind

Surprising how we

Court the least respected

Growing in the Saviour’s

Matchless mind.



T-Shirted Target


Icy cold outside

But seats filling

In the warm hall

Anticipation of Glory arriving.

His t-shirt read

”I love doing this…”


Pig tailed daughter at his side

Talking up a storm

She had been the reason

Eighteen months

Nasty divorce

Mom was the custodial

He was a mess

Smoke booze

Cloudy days in the rig

A woman or two.

And whipping himself.

But Pigtails prayed

Mom was wise enough

To let her

Hold out hope

And the girl had stuffed

A John’s gospel

In the Kenworth’s

Glove compartment.

Talks and drives

And hamburgers

And Dad was naming

The name of Christ

Now with respect

And wonder.

…Michael came on stage

Beat up piano

Central to a sea

Of happy lights.

”God you are my God…”

The knitted pair

Bumping elbows laughing

And clapping in communion.

Verses came easily.

Almost as if the other

Four thousand

Were not even there.

Just the One.