Taking a break from C. S. Lewis today, I thought I would pass along something I received recently from my friend Wes Roberts. . . .

This God . . .

This God, who watches worlds:

sees my heart.

This careful calculator, counting millions:

counts me in.

This artist, whose canvas

outstretches eternity at both ends;

whose palette outshines planets:

paints my portrait.

This lover, who dreams in universes:

dreams of me.

This creator, whose breadth of vision spans time

and spawns a cosmos:

whose woven tapestry of purpose,

more compound than chaos,

eclipsing complexity,

rolls out like a highway through history;

whose heartbeat deafens supernovas:

This craftsman hears my whispered cry.

This father . . . kisses me.

This playwright,

playing with the deaths

and entrances of start;

scripting the end from the beginning;

knowing the purposes of the play,

watches my feeble audition:

and writes me in.

~Gerald Kelly

And if you doubt the truth of the poem have another look at Psalm 139 and the parable of the loving father in Luke 15 today.

Blessings . . .