They tell me I’m a building block, but I don’t look the part.
| The iron in my blood’s too low for pumping round my heart! My shape is also different. I’m sort of round not square. The mortar will not stick to me because of my thin hair But Jesus seems to think so and He is never wrong. So somehow I must learn to sing a new construction song. But what is my position? The middle or the top? The temple will look very strange and maybe it will stop, Before we reach the pinnacle and deck the temple out! But Jesus is the architect and knows what He’s about. He is the Master Builder. Regardless of our form, The temple will be perfect, won’t fall down in a storm. His job is very difficult and it is hard to do. Not just because of what I am, but it’s because of you! How can we fit together how can we stay in place, Without a massive outpouring of Jesus and His grace? The purpose is to glorify the God who makes it grow. The hardest thing the universe could ever, ever know. But when it comes to miracles, the Lord does instantly, The things which are impossible for folk like you and me. Yes, Jesus makes them easy and has all that He needs. He doesn’t have to conjure up the most outlandish deeds. For miracles are normal when they are in His hands. The universe bows instantly to all of His commands. But what is more amazing is He uses every stone, To bring about a purpose that is His very own. The strangers and the aliens are fitted into place, The instant they believe in Him and call out for His grace. And some are made apostles, or prophets with a call. Evangelists, and pastors He loves them one and all. He also has the teachers to keep the building square, So that when it’s completed, His people will be there. We know it sounds impossible; a little bit absurd. But not when He is doing it; not once has that occurred. And we will take our places when all has been complete, And everyone who looks at it will say of it “How neat!” For Christ will have the glory and we will just look on; Knowing that all sin and death is absolutely gone. Jim Strickland – written Tuesday, 16 August 2011 |
