I CHOOSE THE VOICE OF JESUS A Poem

The grass does not bow to the judgment of the wind.

The trees do not count the eyes that look upon them.

The beaver does not abandon its dam because another creature disapproves.

Morning arrives with sunlight spilling over the creeks, touching every trail that disappears into the mountains, and all of creation quietly fulfills the purpose God has given it.

I linger there.

I hear the water speak over the stones.

I watch the beaver carry another branch with patient determination.

I see the grass bending without breaking, the trees stretching heavenward, the mountains standing through generations of storms.

None of them seeks applause.

None of them fears rejection.

They simply remain where the Creator has placed them.

Would that my heart learned such wisdom.

How often I have listened for the voices behind me instead of the voice before me.

How easily the opinions of others become heavier than the words of Jesus.

Yet His call still comes across the valleys, gentler than the flowing creek and stronger than the oldest mountain.

“Follow Me.”

That is enough.

Let others misunderstand my steps.

Let them question my motives or measure my journey with scales that cannot weigh the heart.

The trail before me belongs to Christ.

The sunlight belongs to Christ.

The grass, the trees, the beaver, the dams, the creeks, and the mountains all belong to Christ.

I desire to belong there also.

So I release the burden of pleasing every passing voice.

I will walk where Jesus walks.

I will labor as faithfully as the beaver beside the flowing water.

I will stand as steadfastly as the trees upon the hillside.

I will endure as quietly as the mountains beneath the changing skies.

And when evening gathers its shadows across the grass and the last light rests upon the creek, let this be enough to say of me:

He cared more for Jesus than for the opinions of men.

BDD