Far in the mountains, way up real high
Where the soil turns hard as stone,
Where cold grey meets the blue of the sky
A strong and rare tree had grown.
The roots drew deep, despite the tough ground
Through hardened circumstances
Strove and dug until water they found
Past harsh and cruel chances.
Within the tree no branch ever burst
Perfect wood maturing tall
Wood slowly was to purity nursed
Many years – then had to fall.
When it fell, a stunning sound was heard
Like the grand bell of a tow’r
Like a gorgeous song with grace-filled words
Then grew still in all its pow’r.
A carver took the wood from the hill
Made an instrument fine and rare
Then played a song, for it was his will
That this wood be in His care.
Friend, so are you in your suffering.
In Christ your wood turns to song
So all who can hear will with you sing –
That Jesus makes weak things strong.
“Lord, let my circumstances bring me to a place of surrender. Help me to know that I am growing today into what you have me be tomorrow. Help me understand that I can rest in my imperfection and in the imperfection of others. Help me be patient with the process, knowing that you faithfully finish what you have started.”
Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 3:12-14 (ESV)
(Poem and prayer by Heidi Viars, 2019, Pictures by my sister Moni. Danke!
The poem was inspired by “Der Klang”, Martin Schleske)