Stumbling blocks

My hand, my foot, my eye;

yes, from time to time

and on occasions, each of these

causes me to stumble.

Other parts too, including some

which my innate sense of decorum

precludes me mentioning.

My brain is the worst,

harbouring, as it does,

my quest for comfort,

my desire for a quiet life,

and those thoughts

which might properly be described

as lustful.

Shall I cut them off, or tear them out,

as the gospel writers suggest?

But I no longer believe in hell,

and my brain might be considered

a somewhat essential organ;

and it appears that my selfish desires

are as much a part of my core being

as any proclivities towards goodness,

love and generosity.

This latter group of worthy aspects

are, I like to think, fruits

of a discipleship choice I have made

to follow one who is truth.

These qualities I try to cultivate;

the others, I strive to keep in check.

Everything else is grace.

 

© Ken Rookes 2012

 

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