What would be said, if we were to close;
who would know, who would care?
What is our niche, our cause, our calling?
So has been part of our discerning for a number of years,
so we have wandered in the desert, the mahogany church,
the wilderness of complacency.
But we are different now,
different somehow.
Using that time, that fallow time,
pruning, changing, fertilizing, studying,
growing within the chrysalis,
what a wonderful butterfly we may yet be
if we can break through the skin,
the walls of the church
step beyond the comfortable, the familiar.
We are poised, not dying, not yet; but pensive, furtive,
needing to find a new niche, a special place
become Christians, out beyond the walls,
lifting our feet, turning outward
Doing the work of the gospel,
the work of the church
out in the world
when the call comes
we have longed to hear
December 23, 2007 3:41pm
(Raymond A. Foss)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Time Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Christianity Poems, Education Poems, Work & Career Poems, Studying PoemsBased on Keywords: comfortable, discerning, fallow, longed, butterfly, furtive, pruning, complacency, niche, chrysalis, mahogany