At the death of my grandfather

God of the living, not the dead.

Trees, woods, deer, flowers.

Death followed by life…continual renewal—Spring.

At the death of my grandfather I remember the renewal—

his forested backyard brimming with life

 

But I feel our tension.

Most of your church lay dead in the ground.

When will we raise again to life imperishable?

We wait in much faith, and hope (as we must)

            For You to make good on Your promise.

 

           I wait in the name of the risen Christ.

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One Response to At the death of my grandfather

  1. Isha says:

    I couldn’t tell if I was reading you or Brueggeman…poignant and encouraging.

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