“Slaves of Grace”

One of the highlights of last Sunday night’s worship event was the poetry that was read, especially this one that showcases God’s work in the lives of many of the biblical characters.  I enjoyed it, and loved the way it threaded together God’s sovereign power century after century. Truly, as was reflected at the event, it’s his work alone for his glory alone.

“Slaves of Grace”
(Marti Skow) 

He called on the rulers, the kings and the prophets,
A challenge so bold, crowds gathered, couldn’t stop it.
On the altar he piled wood, water and stones,
The One rained down flames, and put awe in their bones. (Elijah)

They resolved from the start to not bend a knee,
To a king whose earthy power never could be,
Equal to the authority that saved them from fire,
The hand of the One, who brings gold out of mire. (Shadrack….)

They were brothers from birth, a contrary pair,
One who spoke thunder, one who’s witness would bare,
A truth so inspiring, many rebels would turn,
To the One whose life’s story imparts a refining burn. (James and John)

They were wretches and prostitutes, splayed on the street,
Sin on their breath, sores on their feet,
They were waiting and hoping, wanting only a trace,
Of the shade from His cloak, a glimpse of His face. (People)

They were a passionate group, those men of twelve,
Leaving their lives, their loves, their cloaks on shelves,
To follow the One, whose promises were new,
It was His life alone, the law just wouldn’t do. (Disciples)

He was a man full of wisdom, persuasive and curt,
“Leave them alone, after all, what could it hurt?
They’re simple, impulsive, rash and inciting,
But if their purpose is divine, it’s against God you’ll be fighting.” (Gamaliel, Acts 5:33 – 39)

They were muscular, bronzed, full of implanted malice,
A group of soldiers with commands from Pilate’s palace,
A formation of brutes with orders to kill,
The One, in the garden, committed to doing God’s will. (Roman soldiers)

 They’re the followers gathered, in a dark and damp place,
Silent and foreboding was the pulse of their embrace.
They waited obediently as He asked them to do,
For the One who He promised would deliver them through. (Early church)

All of these people, a part of one eternal story,
The characters, their parts, staged all for His glory.
Not a single event, in history past or forthcoming,
Diverts His embrace or the symphony He’s drumming.

Sadly some recorded never heeded His word,
Never accepted his grace, truth in their eyes always blurred.
We all have a choice, a simple yes or a no,
Accept grace from the One, or desperation sow.

Is your role all that different? Are you more unique,
Than the men and women of past, those who sat at His feet?
No. His story’s the same, from beginning to end,
We are here for His glory, slaves of grace my dear friends.

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