A Ding in the Pipes
Twas Job 30 in silence this morn’.
Then, reread again!
Prior to the sermon,
But during the hymn.
Looking up at the pipes,
The organ’s keys tapped with glee.
Symmetrical metal grey, unpolished, not wiped
Above the heads in the pews, What did I see?
There was a ding among them,
More noticeable than a scratch.
Who did it condemn?
In the upper right, it just did’t match.
Looking back on time, throughout the past,
I had gazed upon this blemish.
The choir singing below over its blast,
Sighting in from the balcony while waiting for the finish.
A Gargoyle or two also part of the cast,
What did it mean, How could one replenish?
I’ve pondered the ding for many a year.
Dare one be Jobian?
Things simply aren’t clear!
Let’s ponder this once more, Why not again?
So much to learn, many things so dear.
Sovereignty, predestination, election:
All most perplexing, a subject so drear.
Why so complex, man chooses not the selection!
A grander question might simply be,
Why was man to fall into sin from his original state?
Read as one will, still never to see,
The answer beyond us, until at the gate.
So back to that pipe,
So stately other than the nick.
Why bother with a subject so trite?
Dings abound, catching up with the quick.
For some glowing obvious as bright as the sun,
Others silently hidden as a cloud covered moon.
Seen by others in the stream’s reflection,
Interrupted by fowl, perhaps a loon.
Are there not blemishes on the other pipes as well?
Perhaps on the inside, or maybe the back?
Blaring out happy notes, above the choir’s bells!
I’m certain if one looks, he’ll find other cracks.
’tis solely Grace,
Justified through Faith alone,
Accepting the dings, making steady the base.
A matter oft scrutinized, yet still solid as stone!
Through letters in prison,
Generally recanting his “Cost of Discipleship.”
Bonhoeffer gleaning mankind’s hopeless condition,
“Sharing in God’s sufferings,” how one comes to grip,
Throughout life, each day, agreeing with Dietrich’s rendition.
Through faith, letting another guide the ship.
What form of humility expounded this morning?
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
Hopeful words are these for one in the pit,
Probably repeated for the second service at eleven.
A commentary today as well on John,
No stranger to humility or dings was he!
Baptizing with water, eating locusts and wild honey,
Bringing hope for those of faith which only he could see.
Mocking the sages, and befittingly money.
As one walks through life,
Grappling with all its travails,
One should not get down by the strife,
For dings abound – that’s the gist of this tale!