To the Stubborn Pragmatist

To the Stubborn Pragmatist Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2019

To the Stubborn Pragmatist

You say that You don’t want to be In that great Hereafter

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Just one good run at it In sync with nature And imperious time.

Have no time now But to act and react To cover distances To fill the pot.

To give a little In kindness.

Because something Urges you And can’t be otherwise described.

That Something has entered From that Hereafter

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And He’s wooing you Pursuing you To pause and look up And see the evident blue And eternal And unavoidable Decision Duty Direction Destination.

Glory!

So wise up.

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Tactician

I cased the joint And know where I may best Enter, un-settle, wound and steal.

Accomplished, through the years In many lands And quite the network of imps Squealing at my commands.

A keen eye have I Much like one at market With the horse.

Looks like a fine bargain

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But caress, prod and raise the voice Faults come to view And faulty the choice.

My weapons profuse In manner or state.

This one too lonely That one adored Another without food or trade A mind loving censure or boast A worship of projects well made.

And NOW is the time

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My days have an end Messiah has measured the leash I kick at the thing And snarl my disdain Redoubling efforts To cause His kin pain.

But many just smile (My seige at its worst) And praises come forth from the flames.

Their vistas of Heaven And loved ones and flowers The half-known defense

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To all of my powers.

They come to the River By various paths My arrows have sought every one.

And some were waylaid And most scarred with loss The River their freedom This leashed one can’t cross.

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Obliteration I'm watching as my sand runs out I'm living to the full I gather all the good times up I strive and push and pull.

I like the pace, oh yes I do And many call me blessed It's like a nose and grindstone thing I seldom get to rest.

But then last night I turned the dial And got a preacher's rant That Jesus was the only way

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But man, I won't... I can't.

The end is just the end you see I mean to put it off And gather all the chips I can Before this frame I doff.

And nothing-ness is my next step No pain and no regret No Golden City for the saved No flames of wrath I bet.

And when my last breath leaves the show That guy says I will wake With endless wails and God elsewhere

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With Truth I failed to take.

Short Ride, 1972

The renowned heart surgeon had 9 year old Ronnie and his Mother in the consultation room.

“Son, day after tomorrow I will do an exploratory on your heart. We will give you medicine so that you will go to sleep and feel no discomfort. We will use very precise instruments to open up the area and study the condition of your heart. It is a large and very important pumping muscle with 4 chambers. What do you think we will find in there. Our observations will determine what we are going to do on another day soon.”

“Well Doctor I know for sure that when you look in there you will find Jesus. Just like the songs say.”

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The Physician paused, not knowing quite how to respond. Certainly Jesus would not be carrying the day for those delicate five hours. He would, and his 32 years of experience.

“That’s interesting Son, but I would rather focus on the mechanics of this thing. What do you think I will find?”

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t know about that stuff, but I do know for sure that Jesus is in there and that He looks out for me and makes me happy. I know that you will do your best.”

The Mother sat there quietly and respectfully with a neutral sort of expression on her face. The Doctor could not help but conclude that she or her Husband had given the little fellow a lot of “pie in the sky” coaching.

This irritated him. He remembered all the “religion talk” from his wife.

Gone now these past 4 years from cancer.

The surgery was done the next day completely by the book. The discoveries were very disappointing. Inoperable. Too much waste in one so young.

Probably no more than 9 months left for Ronnie. He envisioned that sad and darkening season. Sitting at his desk, he heard his inner voice saying, “OK Jesus this kid thinks he belongs to you; that you are his Shepherd, I

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suppose. Why such a lousy prognosis for this little Lamb, eh? Are you in charge or not?”

The office, cluttered with diplomas, awards and memorable photos, was dark except for the one small desk lamp. Silence for about 20 seconds.

And then just as if he heard another Voice, “Phil, I am that Shepherd and my flock begins where you are, and comes to a place much more glorious without pain or fear or regret or death. Sometimes I feel strongly that a little one should come to me face-to-face at a time much earlier than most; that he has gotten the Message; that he does not need exposure to a world of strife or unbelief any longer; that his words and demeanour and confidence might draw in some other wayward sheep. Ronnie’s parents will join him some day in glad reunion. It’s about time that you understood this.

I have been waiting.”

Phil’s hands were shaking on his desk blotter.

The next afternoon at about two-thirty he met with both parents. The nine year old was having a visit with his Aunt.

“Folks I went in. I found some very serious damage. I will not be able to operate to any significant degree of improvement. I am very sorry. I have to say only 9 months to a year left for the Boy. I will consult with a few others

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on the best and most comforting measures to be used. I marvel at Ronnie’s confidence and state of composure. He is exceptional. You can be proud…and Madam, I went into that heart and I found Jesus.”

(At a later date and when things settled a bit, they all talked more about their Family of Faith, Doctor included.)

Author Anonymous​ (received by email from a friend)

Sir Francis Drake’s Prayer (1577)

Disturb us, Lord, when We are too pleased with ourselves, When our dreams have come true Because we dreamed too little, When we arrived safely Because we sailed too close to the shore.

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Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess We have lost our thirst For the waters of life; Having fallen in love with life, We have ceased to dream of eternity And in our efforts to build a new earth, We have allowed our vision Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, To venture on wilder seas Where storms will show Your mastery; Where losing sight of land,

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We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back The horizons of our hopes; And to push back the future In strength, courage, hope, and love.

This we ask in the name of our Captain, Who is Jesus Christ.*

(​Sir Francis Drake, vice admiral was an English sea captain, privateer, navigator, slaver, and politician of the Elizabethan era. Drake carried out the second circumnavigation of the world in a single expedition, from 1577 to 1580.​ ) (*and for this post thanks to my friend Anthony Gomez of Kentucky)

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The Simplest Letter

(In his senior years administering some churches in Asia Minor, John the Beloved wrote a glorious letter of assurance.)

‘I have handled Light and Love

Basked in His perfect instruction

Saw Him put flesh on

Righteousness and brotherly kindness

Felt a fortunate, thankful heart bursting.

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And I have His nature; His Spirit.

By this I have escaped the world

Its lusts, striving and fear.

It lies in wickedness

But that wickedness

Bows before the anointing

His anointing, liberally shared

Overcoming

Tweaking the nose of anti-Christ

Of denial and darkness.

And all of the other idols

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Lose their pull.

Friends you may have

All of this as well

Directly from Him.

His Story (Word).

His identification (Water)

His cleansing (Blood).

The Son of God sent

Unreservedly

As Saviour of the world.’

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