As Christians prepare to begin the season of Lent, I thought I would post this poem I wrote recently about the scramble all of us take to find the narrow road of faith and salvation, and how often we miss where our focus should really be:
Here we come, bursting from the desert
reds and browns, the sand-dunes to the skies
rushing to be counted on the highway
desperate for the road that leads to Zion.
I am one of them, and they of me
but we feel alone under the heat
bowed before relentless scorching winds
hands pushed forward, shouts of sinful men—
Who knew narrowness could feel so wide?
That holiness was thin yet vast inside?
We scrambled to be counted on the road
we counted, but forgot the sand and stars.
And yet who’s hanging off-road on that tree?
Who counts the Son of God? Or me?