Stand on the threshold
the confessional of prayer.
Standing never kneeling
unbelief hangs in the air.
Say words despite feeling
no one is really there.
Recite the memorized
without feeling, love or care.
Tradition of a motion
learned while very young.
Hands to fold eyes to close
songs that have been sung.
Knowledge that was planted
yet never truly learned.
Leaves emptiness,
righteousness unearned.
Stepping from the threshold
time to make a choice.
Can you hear God calling you?
Or only your own voice
Unbelieving pray
I believe is still a door.
Desire for belief
a seed with faith it’s core.
©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020
Mary Grace, thank you for this deep and moving poem. Yes, God is still there, meeting us where we are, revealing Himself as we seek Him, waiting with arms wide open to receive us. Thank you for sharing your heart and gift of words.
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Thank you for the encuragment your comment brings be today Melissa.
Thank God he doesn’t only wait for us, but also seeks us.
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Behold He stands at the door and knocks. And if you’ll open unto Him, He promises to come in and sup with you.
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Also, did you mean to write confessional? Or confession?
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Yes I did. My Catholic friend caught that as well.
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