Pray Without Ceasing Beckons

We pray away without delay.

We are invited in.

As all will soon turn—one way or the other.

One may turn away. Or, towards.

Ashes to ashes tis true, you know.

Not as a sad note—but that of surety.

Solid like—bold like.

Truth be told like.

He said so, and we believe so.

Continually as on a continuum we come.

The Communion of Saints looms large—

Yet, the line? Tis short.

And there is always room for one more.

The just One calls, beckons—invites.

My yes, your yes—come as you are yes.

We need not think about what others think.

We need only think of what He thinks.

Tis too hard?

Much easier to scoff as one of the legions?

They are louder—longing to rage long range.

Much easier tis the folly?

Taste and see. Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Pause in the silence.

The glassy sea awaits.

You know—deep down, you know.

Tis a language spoken from the ancient of days.

Tis a language not foreign.

Press your ear into the quiet.

He speaks. You know His voice.

Up close and personal He knows yours, too.

He awaits your still small voice.

He speaks to you in His.

In His still small voice, He speaks.

Amen.