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THE PATTERN

 

We start off, just like You;

Almost perfect in spirit,

Though inexorably touched with sin,

Through Adam.

 

For though Your perfection is whole,

Complete in essence as the Trinity,

Ours is broken and discoloured

By the stain of sin.

 

And as we strive to live and grow,

Our three become but one,

Our spirit, nestled in Your love,

Is bound to body, and to mind.

 

All bodies grow, as You dictate they should,

Yet circumstances mar their growth;

We starve and stunt and batter,

Tiny bodies, planned by You.

 

Our minds are filled with images around,

Of love or hate, of confidence or fear;

They hear the things said to us and about us,

And scars and wounds corrupt Your perfect plan.

 

Our spirits, so in tune with You at birth,

Are deafened by the body and the mind,

No harm – if You are shown all around,

But in our world, it’s hardly ever so.

 

In Godly homes, the gap is not developed,

Into a gaping, ever yawning chasm;

But mind and body cherished and nurtured by Your leading,

Shelter our spirit, under Your protective wing.

 

But in the home where You are not made welcome,

Who knows the damage to the newborn spirit,

Torn from the Father’s bosom,

To ‘rest’ in an alien land.

 

No comfort as they are; in mind or body,

They change to fit the hole in which they’re thrust;

Perhaps, though ‘Christ-less’, the home still apes Your pattern,

Their resting place not far from where it ought.

 

But many homes deny Your loving kindness,

And mind and body grow deformed and bent;

What cragged, dirty, hole is formed to hold,

The precious baby spirit You have sent?

 

But when at any age we find our Saviour,

Accept Him thus and as our Lord and King,

Our spirit in an instant’s recreated,

A perfect, Christ-like spirit being.

 

And yet though Jesus’ blood has made us perfect in the Father’s eyes,

The blessed Holy Spirit sees the scars,

And gently works throughout our human lifetime,

To change the battered way we truly are.

 

He shows us glimpses of the Father’s pattern,

The way we’re really meant to grow.

And then, this gentle, loving Teacher,

Renews the hole wherein our spirit bides.

 

He heals the wounds and soothes away sharp edges,

He breaks harsh habits that deny our spirit rest.

He melts the rough and rocky places,

And moulds the space as only He knows best.

 

Your pattern formed, before the world’s creation,

Developed in a Mind exuding love;

Can be restored into our very being,

When we surrender to Your touch.

 

Allow Your Spirit in our lives supremely,

To rule and guide and teach,

And rearrange the pieces of our puzzle,

Until Your perfect pattern, in glory we display.

 

© 6/1/00