What Kind of Saint?

Submitted by Madalyn Clare on Wed, 11/21/2018 - 03:22

How might I become
A simple soul,
Who wanders wordlessly
In your arms,
Who pauses to smell the flowers?
Who thanks you for
Their perfume?
Who listens to you singing
Through the birds in the
Morning, or the sound of
A baby giggling?
Who thanks you for everything,
From the warm mug of
Cocoa to the soft fur of that
Kitten running underneath her
Besweatered hand?

How might I become
A simple lover,
A quiet lover,
Who relies on you
For all her needs?
Who loves with all her heart
The one who knows her,
Down to the hairs on her head?
Who knew her name before she
Was born?
Who allows your love to guide
Her living for your loving?
Who is content in you before all

How might I become
A simple child,
To hide in the folds of your
Glory, with complete trust that
You will take care of
Everything that the enemy
Threatens her with?
Who will trust you,
Because you are bigger,
Stronger, and mightier
Than all her foes?
Who knows that this is a case
Of ‘My dad can beat up
Your dad’... that will
Never be contested?

How might I become
A lowly servant,
Who does not
Disobey you?
Who knows her
Role in the grand scheme
Of things
And knows the consequence
Of rebellion?
Who knows of
Enemies who will
Prey on the weakness
Of the household should
The servant leave
The diligence of
Her task to the thinness
Of the air?

How might I become
A little soldier,
Who loves her
King with a protective
Who defends the
Ramparts of weak
Souls from the blackening
Words of Gentiles
And pagans?
Who defends
The name of her
Almighty King
From those who
Wish to kill him
And wish to send
His people asunder
As wolves in a flock of
Who will not stain
Her snow white pendant
With the words of a sinner?

For I am a girl
Who folds her arms
Across her heart,
And stands in a running
Pose, with my eyes
I call out ‘Abba, Father!’
And welcome the Spirit
Into my cold metal cage
Of uncertainty. With all the
Words trapped in my fluttering
Heart I cry out to you but
The gates will not be opened
So easily. I am not a lover or
A child or a simple soul,
Or even a servant or soldier,
But a caged bird who sings
To the bars surrounding her,
Echoing back and harboring

But, My Lord most high,
I am your clay, to be molded
Into a simple soul, a lover, or
A child- whatever you will,
Though I may be the toughest clay to find.

Author's age when written


Madalyn, I love this! It voices basically everything I want to be for Jesus: the way you described a simple soul, stopping to thank God for his gifts to us; relying on God for everything and living in His love; being like a child, simply trusting in my Savior; a servant of God and others, obeying Him always, and loving others; and being completely open to God doing what He wants in me!

The way you put this together was powerful and beautiful! <3 Blessings to you! And a Happy Thanksgiving!

C.S. Lewis ~ "He died not for men, but for each man. If each man had been the only man made, He would have done no less."

This poem spoke to me on such unbelievable depths. Oh my word, it's just so beautiful! Thank you for sharing!

“planting seeds inevitably changes my feelings about rain.” —luci shaw.
psalm 84:10 esv.

I hope you had a blessed Thanksgiving too!

C.S. Lewis ~ "He died not for men, but for each man. If each man had been the only man made, He would have done no less."

Madalyn, thank you. Thank you for writing this wonderful poetry. I needed to read this today. I have to say that this is one of my favorite poems - jumped right up there. The struggle depicted in your lines, the desire to be like Christ, the continuous pursuit of him...all of it was captured in your words. Thank you so much!
And happy Thanksgiving!