Fishing With Creation

When the deeds and tasks are done…
All the signs of mistrust fall between the lines
Through the cracks where ash is ever turning, drifting, flowing into dust.
I saw my heart.
I sang my hopes.
I learned that lust…
If Is? for the birds.
And, in the dark
Where secrets lurk
I’ve come to learn
That speech can loom on useless words.

Faith.
The space where logic meets its foe and reason fights to coincide,
Knocking endlessly, so violently,
Relentlessly it tries;
But you can’t rip me from the grace this King is ruthless to bestow,
You can drag me bloody, beaten senseless, and without a stitch of clothes,
And though stark naked to my grave
My spirit then made white as snow.
Satan laughing in a manic desperate state he pulls all stops
Launching full force expert tactics knowing his demise is close.
There: the battle grounds run red with blood of countless sinful souls.
And though the war has claimed too many
There’s yet blood from One who’s death was set to cause Him pain
Who death itself had no effect and all attempts proved truly vain.

In the throes of deep temptation
In the endless dark pit of despair
There’s a love that plumbs far deeper than we ever knew He cared.
Darkness gaping in the mouth the monster evil knows he is
Its belly never full
Its thirst perpetual for sin.
There we find enticements tailor made to fit our vice
Pro fishermen of hell who rig the bait with what we’ll bite.
Don’t be left to mindless swimming
Taking nibbles on a whim
You won’t like what happens after those kind of fishermen have fought their catch and reeled it in.
I made it all the way onto the table
Felt my scales against the block,
But as I went under the knife I felt a sudden grip from different hands
A set that wasn’t quick to toss
Or tear.
Plucked out and thrown into a new bucket
Just before I lost my air.

Now I’m caught by saving hands
Which never catch to kill and eat.
Watch this Fisherman of grace take captured fish and set them free.