life in a shambles
far away from the Father
Son gives His for me
Each of our lives, no matter how together they seem on the outside, are far from perfect; many times we find ourselves in a complete mess if we are honest. Any Christian will know what I mean when I say we go through seasons when we feel so far from God, though we really aren’t.
Unbelievers are completely separated from God. They are in a spiritual shambles until they accept that and seek Him and His grace through His Son, Jesus.
Jesus’ life was never in a shambles; he led the perfect, unblemished life no one else ever could. I’m not implying that He was in a mess the way we are in this haiku; I want to be clear about that. Rather, on the cross He was separated from His Father to take on our mess – our sins – and pay our penalty, a debt we could never pay.
Hanging on the cross, suspected between the heavens and earth, Christ called out:
Mat 27:46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
All alone He bore the sins of all mankind for all time so that we might be able to be reconciled to God. As the old hymn says, “Oh, what a Savior!”.
The 15th day of OctPoWriMo brings us the thought of a perfect day: no limits, nothing out of bounds, what would your day be like? I pondered on this idea for quite a while, with many ideas playing around in my head. When I finally set out to write I thought I would use the trimeric form … but the best laid plans … and all that jazz.
As I wrote the story began to unfold in front of me, going to a different “day” and events than I’d planned. The trimeric I’d planned on using morphed into, something else: a quadmetric maybe, a whole new poetry form? Probably just a happy accident, as I’m pretty happy with the end-result.
The perfect day for me: what would it be?
I’d want my father back for a day;
There’s so much I’d like to say.
There’s maybe more I’d ask him.
Would that really be a perfect day?
I’d want my father back for a day
Nearly 40 years since he passed
Three quarters of my life he missed
There’s so much I’d like to say,
Tell him all about my life,
My kids, his grandson, and my wife.
There’s maybe more I’d ask him,
So much of what I have is faded memory.
And would he be proud of me?
Would that really be a perfect day?
Because I don’t know what we’d say.
What I have now I will treasure; forget “what ifs” forever.
As I was going through my emails this morning I saw one from The Daily Post that caught my attention; I admit I often am not particularly inspired to write from their prompts but do get other ideas. This prompt asked about a song that triggers memories of people, places, things, etcetera. Immediately I began down “memory lane” – gee, that could be a whole new category, but I digress – and so I thought I’d share that with you today.
As I may have mentioned, my father died when I was nine years old – he was 29 – of a rare form of stomach cancer. My maternal grandfather, Papaw, who I’ve mentioned before I’m sure, became my father-figure; really, he probably already was since Dad worked a lot and wasn’t around much. Papaw was a man among men; folks he knew and worked with 40 years ago still tell me stories of his great physical strength, his fortitude, his sense of humor, and his faith. I could write many stories about him – and may in the future, who knows? But right now I want to share the memory that came rushing back today when I read the post idea.
My Papaw was a faithful Christian who held many offices in the church over the years. Now, I should say he wasn’t perfect and wasn’t always the kind, tender-hearted man he became after he was saved; he, in his younger years, drank and fought (loved to fight I think LOL) but was always a good father, husband and provider. Even after he came to know Christ I’m sure he made errors; we all do, I can attest to that personally. One thing Papaw didn’t do or participate in much was sing or be in the choir. Looking back I don’t know why; he could more than carry a tune so I reckon he felt it just wasn’t his calling to be a part of that ministry. But every time one particular song was sung he sang out with all he had! That song, which is still a favorite of mine, too, probably for the memories I’m sharing, is “I’d Rather Be an Old-Time Christian”. What joy I could see in and hear from him as that song played. In fact, it was one of the songs sung at his funeral ; it broke me that day, bawling like a baby, the only not-so-good memory I relate to it. You can hear a version of the song HERE if the video below doesn’t work for you.
William “Bill” Plybon, my grandfather: something I say with pride. I have always said if I could be half the man he was I’d be happy, and I still feel that way. I’ve added another goal to that as I’ve gotten older now: I want to be the father to my kids he was to his and the grandfather to my grandchild (or grandchildren if more come) that he was to me. With the Lord’s help, I believe I can attain those things.