Captain of the Wilderness
All the world’s claims ring out in the night,
Gripping the mind, contortions and strife,
Boasting in frivolity, “There is no fight,”
Blurting out mixed definitions of life.
Gold glistens deceptively, persistently,
Flattery rocks the ego ’til it sleeps,
Bitterness rages ‘neath the surface, vehemently,
Envy takes lordship, and it plays for keeps.
Self-consciousness dictates poisonously,
Images and mirrors take precedence then,
Souls are thus mangled, sons damaged thusly,
Exchanging simple faith for the maze within.
“Where is your God?” they keep pressing the questions,
“What is your life, but a fragmented mess?”
“All you have labored for, vanity, a weak bastion,
All dissipates like the foam of a crest.”
Endlessly, ceaselessly, down strikes the hammer,
Paradigms shift and holy dreams shatter,
Sons forsake feasts and succumb to the famine,
Clarity fades, vision is left tattered.
But You, O Captain of hosts, shine upon me,
Lifting me up from the lying floodwaters,
You, gracious, kind, speaking ever-strongly,
Crash through the darkness, “Up, sons & daughters!”
“Wallow no more in the bondage of sin,
Dwell no longer in this deathly place,
Stand to your feet, lift high your chin,
March with me now through the wilderness of grace.”
Once more, now, vigor, life bursting forth,
Fountains flow copiously, freely, and purely,
Even in dry lands, I behold the Source,
The waters that nourish, the balm that cures me.
What then of voices, what of the mirror?
What of comparisons, pressures, and blame?
Death has no sting in this newly found Era,
Life now pervades all fibers of my frame.
Glory belongs to the King of the ages,
Ancient of Days who delights in my ‘now’,
For intensely present on all history’s pages,
Is the God who loves weak ones, though we know not how.
Rise then, dear soul, rise above noise and clutter,
March through the wilderness, drink hidden springs,
Follow your Captain, look to no other,
True light will direct the sons of the King.