remembering a poem


God’s Handwriting

by John Oxenham

He writes in characters too grand
For our short sight to understand;
We catch but broken strokes, and try
To fathom all the mystery
Of withered hopes, of deaths, of life,
The endless war, the useless strife–
But there, with larger, clearer sight,
We shall see this —
His way was right.

I memorized this poem as a college freshman. Now, with God’s “broken strokes” undecipherable and ever-changing before me, I pray for grace to trust and submit to His writing, which in the end – I know by faith – will make sense; than scribble my own lines which, at the moment and in my eyes, could make sense, but in the light of eternity would be gibberish.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s