Busker

A wise old man
with his guitar
Busking,
Tending a scar

Seeing the pigeons
scanning the floor
stirs memories
millennia old

He eyes the preacher
across the street
and he recalls
the one he greets

Why won't you listen?
Why don't you hear?
I'm calling for you,
I'm calling you near

He sees the people
Avoiding his gaze
Seeing their faces
He remembers again

Before thrones
Speaking God's word
Calling down fire
Making God heard

Faster than chariots
Water wide open
The furnace explosion
The whirlwind to Heaven

Why won't you listen?
Why do you not hear?
I'm calling for you,
I'm calling you near

He's ignored
People pass by
Not seeing him
Not hearing his cry

Why won't you listen?
Why do you not hear?
I'm calling for you,
I'm calling you near

Success

My success is not measured in how many people love me, but in how much I love God and people.

I don't need to worry how many people attend my wedding or my funeral, but how many weddings and funerals I attend out of love.

I cannot be loved by all, for their hearts are not mine to control, but I can love all, for my heart is my own, to let harden or to pour out. I choose to pour it out. I need to love people as I love myself, and to love God with my all.

A little note

Of late it has been hard to keep going. It seems there is too much work and too much study and not enough friends and too little hope.

I still worship God though, because I that's all I can do. How many times have I sung that I will praise through hardship? So I try to. The silly thing is it's not really hard. I have food, and a roof and a bed. It's funny how ambiguous a hard life is really. In this post-modern world it's anything I suppose.

I don't have much else to say. I love God still and that is the sum total of my identity at the moment. Perhaps that is all it ever will be.