First String

I picked up a rose once.
It was lying on the ground
In the dirt, next to me.

I put my hands around it, just to bring it to my face,
And breath in what it was breathing out.
There were no thorns, and I thought,” that’s odd.”

Then, a man approached me.
He peered at me and said, “You look lonely and hurt.”

I looked into his perceptive eyes and said, “Yes, I am.” Because I had been thinking,

“I wish my Mom were here.”

She would put her loving hands on my fevered brow, and I would be soothed simply by her presence and her touch.

Then, I asked him, “Why are you here?”
Immediately, his eyes became a flame,
But I was not afraid.
Because, I knew,
I was talking to an angel.
Then, the glorious, effulgent light that radiated from his body penetrated my soul, and overwhelmed me.

At that instant, another level of perception hit me.
I thought,

“Oh, my God!”

I am looking, through a messenger, into the loving eyes of my Savior.

But why is he here?”

Then I realized,
He was sent, here, from God, our Father
To pick up my bleeding body and carry it off the battlefield.

You see, like most of my Christian companions,
I carry a sword.
And like they, I’m not afraid to unsheathe it,
On the field of battle
And use it.

But as all warriors learn,
There will come a time
When you find yourself
Lying in the dirt,
And in need of assistance.

That is when God sends in an angel,
To pick up your wounded body,
And take you to a place of refuge
Where Satan cannot touch you
Until God sends you back out.

And when He does, you will know

That you are still first string!




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