Sunday, June 10, 2007

tickle me, God

when i am down
to my last few drops
of the oil of obedience,
and distractions hammer
at my door
inviting me to come out
and play:
fill me
with that trust
which has no end;

when the flour of faith
is but a dusting
at the bottom of my heart
and sin's silliness
points me
in the wrong direction:
feed me
with that love
which never wears out;

when i put my feet
under the table
for just a few hands
of hold-em poker with death,
and she moves 'all in':
pull the chair out
from under me
and yank me to my senses;

when i beleive
there are no miracles left
(at least, for me):
tickle me
with your grace
till i ache
with life.

(c) 2007 Thom M. Shuman

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