
βBut Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God. Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein.β Luke 18:16-17 KJV
π
The Lord keeps showing me, over and over,
images of the little child that rests inside each angry man.
π
The baby who first discovered his fingers and toes,
or laughed with glee upon his first sighting of a butterfly.
π
The little boy who wiggled through his first haircut,
he was so proud.
π
The little boy who brought home weed-flowers
for his mom to put in a vase.
π
The cut-out crooked hearts
with βI love you, daddyβ scribbled across.
π
The little boy who wanted to be a policeman,
a fireman or the President.
π
The little boy who learned to ride a bike
and could almost keep up with dad.
π
The little boy who chewed wild grass
and dreamt of flying a rocket to the moon.
π
The little boy who made a 100% on his spelling test,
but couldnβt quite figure out math.
π
When did he turn into an angry young man,
bitter, distant and lost.
π
When did friends become more precious than family,
no matter when, no matter where.
π
When did Christmas cookies turn to alcohol,
Mother Goose to pornography.
π
When did alcohol turn to drugs;
to live for, to kill for, to die for.
π
When did skateboards turn to drive-by shootings,
picnics to funerals, love to hate.
π
When did he become an angry young man,
falling deeper and deeper into sin, into death, into Hell.
π
If you look close enough you can see that little boy,
through the dazed eyes of drugs.
π
If you listen carefully you can hear that little boy crying out for help,
for peace, for love.
π
If you hug him long enough you will feel the shield and barriers fall away
– long enough for him to know someone cares.
π
And if you walk with him long enough you can guide him along the path
to find that little boy again.
π
Written 3/21/95
Leave a comment