When Yahweh parts the flood and a nation walks through on dry ground,
nothing wet but the priests' feet,
When granola bars and sardines become a feast with 12 doggy bags,
When stone and slingshot slay a giant,
I heap up words like river boulders,
memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm.
His love endures forever.
I heap up words to remember,
Lest, not remembering, I forget
And, forgetting, drift
Back to slavery of burdened unbelief.
When God's people are the giants put to flight by few,
When the handful of flour and bit of oil run out, yet famine does not lift,
When waves swamp the boat and still He sleeps,
When very God bleeds on a cross and angels of deliverance do not come,
Those heaped-up words like river boulders,
memorials of God's mighty hand and outstretched arm,
they remind me:His love endures forever.
from the archives, March 2011
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