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Poema

Ever have one of those weeks at a camp or a retreat, or maybe just time spent alone with God and you take in so much good stuff that you can't digest it all at once?  That was last week at Delta Lake for me.  The morning speaker, Dr. Frank Chan from Nyack College and ATS, spoke into my life as though he had been following us around for the last year taking notes.  Each day I went and pulled out my phone and wrote down everything he said as fast as I could - because I have to keep my hands moving to pay attention to what is being said.  Yes, I am that learner.

So as I went through my notes this week to review, the thing that kept popping up in my head was one of the things he said the first day.  We are God's "poema."  This word, in Greek literally means, "That which is made."  It's where our English word poem comes in.  I have heard it said we are God's masterpiece, we are his workmanship, we are his work of art.  And all these paint a beautiful picture.  But being a voracious reader and a person who writes to work things out, this idea of a being a poem was so mind-blowing to me that I have come back to it time and time again.

Yes, a poem.  One with many stanzas.  Complicated in it's own right, yet beautiful.  Telling a complete story but not until the end when the author is ready to finish it.  You can't take one line or even one stanza of a poem and see the whole beauty or the whole story - you must read slowly and take in each part.  Then at the end it explodes with completeness.  A Psalm.  A story put to music.  A poem.

And I am God's poema?

I don't see myself as that.  I don't see my life as that - especially when I try to take in the little day to day things that make up each line.  I see myself as a faithless woman who whines and complains.  I see my life as stuck.  I see my legacy that I am leaving the children as a hopeless one, riddled with generational sins.  As a writer, I can be so melodramatic!  Yet that is not the whole story.

I am a sinner - but I am saved from that.  I once was a slave to myself, but now I have a new master.  The old is dead and the new has come.  I am like those many, many Psalms that make me identify with the author - the ones that say, "Woe is me, why have you forsaken me?" only to end on, "You are my God and my King.  In you will I trust."  It may take me a while to get to that end, but I do.  Because I am his poema, and he is doing a beautiful thing in me.

So today as I wake, give myself to Him who created me and is still creating this poem, I am thankful.  I am grateful.  I am hopeful.  There are shades of frustration, apathy, anger, and doubt - but they will ultimately be overshadowed by the Author as he continues this story.

Comments

  1. Beautiful post. Thanks for reminding me I am God's poema. So true. Just reminded Lisa Buske that her heart is so tender because it took a pounding when her sister was kidnapped. Sometimes our poems are poundings to prepare us for the work God has for us to do. Praying as He shows you daily and prepares your way.

    Love you,
    Elaine

    ReplyDelete

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