There’s this bit of ground
I woke up this morning with the following picture on my mind,
After a morning of pondering/ dreaming wrote the following:-
(Better share it before this rich vein of inspiration dries up)
(Dedicated to Jo youth team minister and her team)
There’s this bit of ground where children come to play,
Grassy slopes, a stream, flower beds and orchards where children come to taste and see…
At one end stands ‘ The One’,
Who oversees, at an open door,
Waiting…
the children come taste and see and come back again and again
Went back the other day
The stream had all but dried up
Only an occasional damp patch
The grass had been neglected
One corner had artificial turf to remind of the past
No longer the joyous cry of children
Exploring the beauty
Of the foretaste of heaven
Of a revelation of love
Occasionally some come to play, kick around in the dust,
Not noticing ‘the One’ at the door
No one to ask, no one talk to, no one to tell,
Occasionally some recalls stories of the past beauty of the place
Some still try to be relevant
In spite of what the world says
Went to a church
The other day
They’d separated the children to from church,
To go play with the toys in the church hall,
not to disturb the vicars deep theological discourse
I wish I could go and play with them
Remembering times when I was young
When it was fun,
Playing in that meadow
Realising there were ones
Guiding, sharing
Showing the ‘doorway’
Saw the notices in my church today…
I saw a team of unsung hero’s
Playing foot ball
Meeting for coffee
Going for meals
Not Mc Donald’s
But opening up their homes,
Going canoeing
Camping
Having a right laugh
Claiming next generation…
The fields are white for harvest
Thank God there are still those, caring for our youth,
Neglect this generation
And your church will make a nice golf course!
I woke up this morning with the following picture on my mind,
After a morning of pondering/ dreaming wrote the following:-
(Better share it before this rich vein of inspiration dries up)
(Dedicated to Jo youth team minister and her team)
There’s this bit of ground where children come to play,
Grassy slopes, a stream, flower beds and orchards where children come to taste and see…
At one end stands ‘ The One’,
Who oversees, at an open door,
Waiting…
the children come taste and see and come back again and again
Went back the other day
The stream had all but dried up
Only an occasional damp patch
The grass had been neglected
One corner had artificial turf to remind of the past
No longer the joyous cry of children
Exploring the beauty
Of the foretaste of heaven
Of a revelation of love
Occasionally some come to play, kick around in the dust,
Not noticing ‘the One’ at the door
No one to ask, no one talk to, no one to tell,
Occasionally some recalls stories of the past beauty of the place
Some still try to be relevant
In spite of what the world says
Went to a church
The other day
They’d separated the children to from church,
To go play with the toys in the church hall,
not to disturb the vicars deep theological discourse
I wish I could go and play with them
Remembering times when I was young
When it was fun,
Playing in that meadow
Realising there were ones
Guiding, sharing
Showing the ‘doorway’
Saw the notices in my church today…
I saw a team of unsung hero’s
Playing foot ball
Meeting for coffee
Going for meals
Not Mc Donald’s
But opening up their homes,
Going canoeing
Camping
Having a right laugh
Claiming next generation…
The fields are white for harvest
Thank God there are still those, caring for our youth,
Neglect this generation
And your church will make a nice golf course!