We’re two weeks into National Poetry Month 2024, and it’s a beautiful day outside (maybe a bit unseasonal at 82º), but poetry is in season whatever the outdoor temperature.
This being Sunday, I wanted to post a more serious poem (no silliness) but this one requires a personal admission: from time to time, I experience unfortunate lapses in my level of spiritual maturity. Because our income taxes are due tomorrow and I have much to do to complete them, I’m bummed. Taxes have become such a chore for me! Anyone else feel the same?
Naturally, one of the first things to suffer when I’m bummed is my Bible study time. I see my Bible (with its gilt-edges) lying on the table, waiting. I can look over it, around it, even through it, any number of ways while attending to other tasks, without ever making needed time to commune with my Savior!
The Book never winks at me or waves a hand to suggest, “Look at me, knucklehead!” It stays quiet, no demands, no sighs of impatience. And if I suffer the slightest feelings of guilt (because I ignore the urge to engage a quiet time with God), I’m as likely to ignore those feelings as well. Yes, I am (most regrettably) an ungrateful sinner.
The sonnet below expresses my rebellion. Ha! My younger daughter even noted today how much growing up I still have to do. (She’s correct … and this sonnet admits as much.)
So today, in deference to tomorrow’s income tax deadline, I give you the above poem and bid adieu. Unlike my Savior (who always forgives), the inescapable Uncle Sam isn’t likely to give me any slack if I choose to ignore him.
