We who profess Christ,
And who wear crosses,
Who are we, really?
If Christ is not at our core,
If Jesus is not everything?
I’m speaking to myself,
But, feel free to listen in:
It is as though we are a hollow tube,
A vessel that should be filled,
But is not.
I see a purple flower, wild,
By the side of the road,
In a mass of flowers and tendrils,
Cascading over a rock wall,
It lives in this world,
But is not of this world,
Not of this world of man.
I’ve not seen the flowers striving,
To fill themselves up,
As even we Christians strive,
Just like other men of unbelief,
Striving to fill our hollow core,
Emptiness inside us caused,
By the absence of Christ.
Why say that we are Christians?
Others are more honest,
Those who have left the faith,
And are busy now filling themselves,
Full, with everything else,
Everything else that they can find.
If we will not make Jesus Christ,
Our everything,
It is better that we take off our cross,
And follow the ways of this world instead,
Although, parenthetically and as a warning,
In this endeavor, we will never be full,
And we will always be wanting,
Wanting more,
Accompanied by the pain of never having enough,
With our innermost heart hollow, empty, even so.
Christian, be like the wildflower instead,
Every day it awakens,
And accepts what God gives it,
And it is full,
And in its fullness it gives,
It gives back its own beauty,
Reflected from Christ,
Out to the world.
~FS
Prayerful Life 