Poem dedicated to Novak
Oh gifted one, oh gentle soul
How you love your Lord and seek His Ways. How you cry out for your people; are you their chosen one?
Your inner being submerged in His tender love, the One in whom you place your faith. You know He's real, you've seen His Hand on your life, on every game.
Your brothers near and far are crying out with you, use this one, Mighty Savior, to testify of you, to bring glory to you, to draw many to you, to heal the wounds.
That you would put the healing of a nation on the shoulders of one so young; but use him our King, with his jokes and ploys, his outbursts and joys, he testifies for You, he points to You, the cross on his heart acknowledging you.
His heart is melting in your presence; overwhelmed we are of joy over him, so proud, so gracious, so grateful for Your Hand on his life. Such a responsibility, Father God, you place on this young one of you, your children worldwide interceding for him.
Every shot he plays, every sound he utters, he sings your praise, his fans follow his every move; but it is to You he points, Your praises he sings.
Oh beloved child, favourite son, surrounded by your dearest ones, watching over you, protecting you, covering for you; what calling on your life. You sense the greater plan, but one shot, one more ball you play, your heart, your soul, you give it all into the game you love. Who knows His plans for you, what healing He will bring through your life, through one so tender yet strong of heart.
You melt in His presence, falling on your knees, crying out to Him, thanking Him in your time alone. Father, Son and Spirit, use my life for Your ways, do with it as You please. You give so much, what would I want more. My beloved you have given me, my sons and daughter to follow. What would you demand of me? To serve you out of love, to bless those who bless your broken ones?
Heal this nation, my King, the trauma sits quietly in their souls, the pain of love ones lost, the sorrow and shock of what their eyes have seen. Can you heal these memories, how would you restore? Broken for us, You were, as we are broken, heal us my King, as You went through the cross and rose for us.
In the future you glimpse, you see, ah you see, but yet for now you know one more shot to be played. They want you as their king, how could they make a hero of one so young. But king you are, king of the King, not of this world, but on an eternal kingdom you build, with brethren everywhere watching you, sensing your call, crying out to Him for you. What shall become of all the prayers for you held in His Hand? What shall He do with them. But you know the truth, on your knees you will hear His voice, find His ways, heed to His calls.
More and more of late, you sense His Spirit in your depth, a thirst to read His Word. Listen to the advise of your beloved elder, her prayers covering you, protecting your every step. When the figs are ripe, you will be released, let you go on your way to be in Him, warrior and preacher, teacher and follower, counselor, translator, mentor and student, leader. From far you will let them come, bring healing to the lamed, hardened hearts, the shamed pride. And far you will send your mighty men, trained by your hand and His, to share the healing they have received.
What inner vows you've made to Him, for one more victory to claim? But, ah, your Father understands; like your dad, He is cheering you on, jumping to His feet and waving His arms; like your mamma praying quietly, He gently stirs you on, wishing you a win. You serve Him out of love, no vows you made He claims, His love for you too great. Submerged you become, through the water you go, filled with His Spirit, anointed with His Name.
Oh gentle brother, beloved one, super athlete, super star, our hero, keep humbling yourself to the cross on your heart, to the One in whom you place your faith, your trust. Too great are His plans for you to carry, too heavy the load, but go unto Him, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and He will give you rest; take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him; for He is meek and lowly of heart: and ye shall find rest unto your soul, for His yoke is easy, and His burden is light.
Your brother in Christ
Re: Poem dedicated to Novak
Wow you're really a great poet. :worship:
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