Identity

I saw again the breadth of life within a pastor's heart,
And how my narrow focus plays a different kind of part;
He spoke of our identity and problems we have there,
Recalling to my mind my working life – and I compared:

For thirty of my forty working-years on Jesus' team,
I pioneered a paradigm; uncovered what had been
A piece we lacked in pastorate which undercut our church,
Like gasket in an engine – missing, left us in the lurch.

The third task in my working life is still in progress here;
Relates to that “identity” he shared and made quite clear;
How strange it seemed to see how small a piece I'm chasing down –
Like tank mechanic said, “A missing gasket shuts you down”.

The areas he spoke into recalled a larger scene
Of daily life a pastor lives, it echoes where he's been
As into this community he's taken bread and wine,
So there's no time to do the task which all these years was mine.

We both give life, but different ways, I polish up one piece
He uses in his arsenal to Kingdom-life increase –
Or not, for maybe he won't need the part I'm fixing up
For tools we use abundant are – an overflowing cup.

Effect for me of sitting in to listen to his words
Was getting some perspective how my work is seen and heard;
And that was helpful, centered  me, and gave me great respect
For Jesus – handing out his work  to get the best effect.

That Christ would care so much for us, that He would spend the time
To polish up each tiny piece to make a tool-box fine;
Like crescent wrench, and power tools, precision pieces those,
Some person's life went into each – like sparrows Father knows.

So back to work I go this day and focus on my task
Providing good equipment as the head of army asked:
"If it breaks down while under fire, some people could get hurt,
So you should focus on your task producing high-class work".

So thanks for last night’s words to us, hats off for what you do;
I know it's tough, the cost is high for playing “Jesus' fool”;
But if you were not at the front directing Jesus' band,
My piece of work might polished be, but stay here in my hand.

It's not the life I understood that day I got the call
(Or “sending” rather, “Go along, we'll get there after all
Is said and done;  like all My tasks the way to up is down,
A diamond tip makes tools of steel, but first it must be ground.

“All things for good I turn around if you will just believe,
And hold the course, straight furrow make, and not the workshop leave;
I gave a mate to walk with you especially at the end –
The task that's third, the hardest is, that's who I recommend.”)

The task that's mine this time around, it's outline I can see,
For preparations He has made are now a part of me;
A part I know, yet still I walk by faith He  knows the way,
And we will get there soon enough, so preparations pay.

I open up my blacksmith's shop, the forge I fire up;
I take my hammer from the rack and whack out something rough;
I test it, see if it will fit as part of larger tool;
The face of an inventor looks a lot like faithful fool.

For trial and error are routine, for Edison as I;
It takes a lot to hammer out some vision from the sky
Not knowing if it will pan out while sweating as I am –
Identity is critical, for Stu, or Mike – take Sam:

As child he grew up in a home where “Giver” was not good;
A part of him was pushed aside, he was not understood;
He bolted from his house one day which caused an awful rift;
He rose up high within his job, and exercised his gift.

Meanwhile his father trained the folks who soon would clergy be;
His dislike for the Giver-types was passed down family tree;
Grandson got help, redeemed to live out his identity;
But shunned by grandpa's student folks, "Such gifts no use can be".

Their churches are imploding fast, (they have now Givers few),
Compassion-types drove Givers out, a purge within their coup;
So that's my task – third one for me – bring Giver gifting in,
To journey into future now, new body-life begin.

But where did this go off the rails and end up in this fix?
Way back in that Toronto slum, a life no one had picked –
His dad died young, he struggled up, (though in the mix got saved) –
It bent his thinking out of shape which later chaos made.

Just look at it – some lives wrecked up, and sections of the church;
While rampant in community – bad attitudes to 'purse';
I know it was not only him, but what if dad had seen
More clearly his identity – what blessing he'd have been.

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