| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3281 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Saved Dale McLain Could you blame me? When I was in the eddy- going ‘round and ‘round slipping into the cold and dark, I raised my small hand above the hallowed water. My fingertips just barely broke the swirling surface. I hoped my prayer, unholy as it was, might be heard. When a shadow fell across the water is it any wonder I thought it was a savior? Pretty words made flesh, there to heave me onto that steep bank gasping and grateful To say “Be well” and “I’m here.” Not some Jesus, just a ordinary man who heard my voice who saw me and remembered that you can’t save yourself grabbing on to kudzu and cussing the very same Lord who holds your fate like ivory bones tumbling in His almighty hand. I was as naked as a newborn, as frightened as a doe. I needed saving so bad. Needed, needed, needed more than the true redeemer Himself gould have given. I needed a tent meeting And an altar call. I needed place to lay my head on a hard pew or a living chest. I had forgotten what was holy. When he kept on walking, as any wise man would, the dust from his sandals fell on the water as he passed. I heard him singing, sweet as could be, a hymn of mercy. I used my last breath to laugh in the whirlpool that baptized me again and again. |
