He was nothing, no one, except for the promise,
I remember plainly the day he returned.
I remember even better the day he spurned
My father’s house and our way of life,
How eagerly he traded it for one of strife!
I scarcely mourned the day he left.
Although my father was quite bereft.
It would be years before I saw him again,
Years before I could really explain
Who my Father was, what he had done,
And what it really meant to be His son.
.
You see, we were not always a nation,
A people to be known or hold any station.
It began with Abram, plucked from obscurity.
Plucked by Almighty to walk in security.
He was nothing, no one, except for the promise,
That the hand of God would rest upon us.
In generations to come we became many
And enjoyed God’s great kindness and plenty.
.
I see now it wasn’t for righteousness sake,
What we did to Joseph was born of the snake.
But God was ever working our good,
Even if we didn’t fear as we should.
Despite that betrayal of a castoff brother,
Our starving kin were rescued by none other.
On Egypt’s sands, we increased even more,
A threat her Pharaoh dared not ignore.
.
Again, He rescued, again our God heard,
These wandering sons and their captive word.
By a mighty hand and outstretched arm,
He crippled our masters, but kept us from harm.
Neath the shadow of Horeb, while our faith failed,
God met with our Moses, face unveiled.
He said He chose us not because we’d increased,
But because, of all peoples, we were the least.
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And over the centuries, our stubborn lot,
Earned a spirit of stupor and ears to hear not.
Given every advantage by law and prophet,
We chose the world and the little it promised,
Became so depraved, Elijah thought he was alone.
But our gracious God chose and kept His own.
The rest He hardened and left to be burned,
A message to all: God is not to be spurned.
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The table He spread became a snare and a trap,
The recalcitrant branches He resolved to snap.
Given to the flames, separate unless He
Graft us back to the root, the stem of Jesse.
That is what I learned of the kindness of God,
How it makes room for branches, wild and odd.
It provoked me to anger and bitter jealousy.
After all he did to Father, “How could He?”
.
But watching them, going into the feast,
I understood, at last, why we were the least.
I saw that the Deliverer was all–always had been.
I saw our great need that He take from us our sin.
With eyes opened to see, and ears that now hear,
That I’m as wretched as that lost son is perfectly clear.
How unsearchable His ways, more than any other!
What grace He has shown to me and my brother!
The bulk of this poem was inspired by the story of the prodigal son as found in Luke 15 and the explanation of Israel and the Gentiles found in Romans 10 and 11.
Feminine 101 