The Climb
Living Word,
Who quenches my soul’s thirst,
I come as a beggar to Your stream.
I come as one with scraped feet from the rugged rocks
Of disbelief in an uncaring world,
With hands whose flesh is torn
From a rugged climb upward,
With knees and elbows
Ripped and bludgeoned in my
Attempted ascent into wisdom.
And now I stand on the precipice that
Learning has lifted me to,
Trying to uncover the stream source
And find it a windy crag,
A tiny, slippery ledge
Amid confusing clouds that clutter the view
And do not satisfy the soul.
But then my gaze falls below
And sees Your grace flowing
In the valleys of humiliation.
The refreshment I sought comes
Only through grace flowing downward
Not men scaling upwards.
Along with others I kneel with scooped hands
Lavishing in Your abundance.
Some others might think me wise when
They see my scrapes and scars,
But what a fool I had been to so impoverish my soul,
And how much higher could I have climbed
Were I supplied with Your life.
The wrong was not to have scaled
But to have climbed to find Your grace
That runs so freely in the valley.
Now I kneel and hear the gentle bubble
So profound to my soul echo in my ears,
“Jesus loves me, this I know…”