Reduced to Dust
030408
8.50pm
Reduced to dust, scenes cannot lie,
About my head the fears do fly.
Weary, parched, and fighting foes,
When will this end, I need to know.
Reduced to a curl on a bed of sighs,
Writhing, numbing, unheard cries.
Darkness in droves of ‘ought-to’s’,
People telling me there is all to lose.
Reduced to a voice saying, “Help me, please”,
Not wanting to believe this debilitating disease.
Indeed it is not, and the kingdom is power,
God help me stand, blessed be this hour!
Several hands reach forwards,
Small and mighty voices urge me onward.
But most of all, there is my Lord God Almighty,
And the storm He appointed to help me break free.
He has been holding me from behind, that I will never fall,
Pounding me to dust, so I can follow at His call.
That I may always trust through the tears and the grime,
And one day, see, touch and taste - His purest love sublime.
Reduced to dust… no other phrase to describe it. So small, and yet so magnified and cherished in the embrace of my huge God. As the storm continues and the battles in my mind and heart rage on, I do not leave my mind an empty mess, but let it be stayed on Him and the war He has already won. It’s difficult and not everyone understands. More often than not, I have been wounded by a well-meaning one, but now I’ve learnt what works and what doesn’t.
Practicality demands I identify the trigger points and weed up the underlying, pride, covetousness, anger, bitterness, disappointments and unforgiving spirit that remains. It instructs me too to continually look outward- and bless people I care for. Also, I must not isolate myself, but seek out the company of friends who will not wear out but will spread cheer. (: Reduced to dust, but definitely not to nothing; I carry on because the sun still shines on me every morning and Great is His Faithfulness.