Romans 8:19-21 19 For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; 21 because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. Children

 

Hungering long in expectation ... the feelings never disappear

From somewhere a reminder ... that certain longings are still here.

It is so strange when the unexpected ... fulfills as self to appear

Just above the horizon ... as it travels determined ever near

 

Your longings draw always closer ... to directions drawn by dreams

Where only God can be the motive ... as the Master of the sphere.

One in four is the appearance ... found in directions like it seems.

Seems so strange to be quartered ... and hanging on to what’s here.

 

Are children much like parents ... so what part does within me reside?

Or in my children’s children ... what part is there formed in peace?

Christ died so I may live ... did I give self in simple loving sacrifice?

As Christ arose to pave The Way ... did I mimicke and admit  defeat?

 

So many things I want to know ... but I’m not trying to understand.

Will that part of me than touches Christ ... and will bring purpose home?

If Christ dwells in my children’s heart ... what does “my” Life demand?

If I pour out The One so near ... through the cracks making me whole

 

All Life resides in simple peace ... while death in the temporal roams.

And suffering seems a form of happiness ... and pain a blessing camouflaged?

While existence always is in touch ... within misunderstanding’s syndrome

Have I made a choice not to see ... enjoying blindness within my entourage

 

In whatever state I’m in ... the call is for Contentment and Godliness

It is surely brings with it great gain ... so why am I so comfort prone?

Through suffering Christ was made perfect”... throughout His Loneliness.

I don’t even count my blessings ... as self-pity seems my comfort zone.

 

 

Jan Wienen