Evening Prayer Of Thanks

He heard it, Lord, and for that gift of Yours
I pour my thanks – small thing – like Luther’s doors
And document he hammered up to see
Who would come forth, and what effect might be.

His “trick-or-treat” that Halloween of old,
Some ninety points he posted up – quite bold –
And yet so small a thing he did that night –
Say, “Talk with me – I don’t think this is right”

And yet those “theses” posted for debate,
Changed history – a row he did create;
You said, O Lord, “Just like the mustard seed
The kingdom is – so small yet soon a tree”.

This night, far back, I watched my son be born;
A miracle – green gowns and masks were worn
Like Halloween, identities held the back;
Then ten PM our babe emerged intact.

From sperm and egg of microscopic size,
Came this tall man – our hopes God realized
That night for us – through danger safe he came –
Our miracle – son James, that is his name.

And now today, you had me share Your word,
That folks might know Your truth, if it be heard;
Four decades work, I wondered, “could it be
He’d hear today – through Creenglishman like me?”

You said, “Just talk, I’ll show you what to do;
When time is right, I’ll tune his ear to you;
Of all your words, I’ll lift to life one phrase,
And have him write those words upon his page.”

We talked two hours – one time my mind went blank,
You picked it up, I carried on – much thanks!
And then he took his pen and wrote some phrase,
And closed his book – explained to me his ways –

“That phrase jumped out, and gave my head of buzz:
‘Apostle is a boundary-jumper’ ’cause
It speaks somehow to how life seems to me;
I’ll think on it, in prayer upon my knees.”

I breathed a sigh, I knew that tiny phrase
Was like a seed – would grow in him for days;
He heard it Lord, his rhema-word indeed;
That tiny phrase – the gasket he would need.

For as he meets this weekend with his team,
It will mix in, small gasket though it seems,
And take its place within their mighty tank –
Unseen within, so for Your word much thanks.

Without a gasket, tanks can never move;
They work just fine, but battles they can lose
If gasket’s gone – one tiny part unseen –
Four decades work, and now your work has been –

Picked up by church – for five-fold ministry;
They have the rest, this one part they now see,
“The essence of first apostolic task
Is boundary crossing – task today that's vast”.

Well I recall that day out in the bush –
One match – my test – in rain – the ground was mush;
Well I prepared the kindling, birch, and cones –
Between my legs, on ground I made a ‘home’ –

Then match I struck, and held in sheltered niche;
The rains poured down, flowed by me in a ditch;
And then it caught – at first a tiny flame;
I laid it down, hitched back, and on it came.

A cheer went up from members of my team;
I'd done my task – brought warmth where cold had been;
We stoked the fire, slung tarps and pitched our tent –
Hot meal that night – and dry to bed we went.

O Lord, I pray that phrase he copied down,
Might be like spark, or gasket, in the round
Of talks and prayers he has in coming days,
That, looking back, this land might sing Your praise.

Thanks, Lord, for this.

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