I met God at the Bus Stop
Quietly, as Light breaks Dawn
Thought I'd found Salvation's Path
Yet, it was laid all along
The shattered shards of Heart's defense
Lay strewn around my Feet
Humor, in its finest sense
When Faith and Fate did meet
Comedy's sweet jest it seems
Hides the shadow of Life's pain
Yet in that Moment's silent gleam
Sovereignty did reign
For though we think we chart the Course
The Bus, its route predate
In God's grand scheme, without remorse
That Bus, it's never late.
In a quiet room, a sacred space,
A preacher kneels, seeks divine grace,
A call to stand, a call to speak,
A task profound, a mission unique.
A sermon waits in pregnant pause,
A message wrapped in heaven's gauze,
With trembling hands and furrowed brow,
He wonders, prays, "Oh Lord, show me how."
The Word is sharp, the Truth is keen,
A double-edged sword, pure and serene,
To wield it well, a task immense,
A burdened heart, a conscience tense.
A message deep, a lesson to unfold,
With trowel in hand, the truth is being told,
Through valleys dark, and pastures green,
A shepherd guides with tools unseen.
The weight of words, the challenge vast,
To connect the present with the ancient past,
To break the Bread, to pour the Wine,
A feast of Love, a taste divine.
In pulpit high, or humble street,
With voice that roars or whispers sweet,
He preaches hope, he speaks of peace,
A call to love that never shall cease.
For in his words, a holy fire,
A passion fueled by pure desire,
To lead the lost, to heal the broken,
A preacher's call, God's love unspoken.
Oh Preacher, stand with courage true,
For Heaven speaks and works through you,
May grace abound, may love ignite,
Your words a beacon, a guiding light.
