Good news falls with greater purpose on the spot where God takes aim,
But evaporates on that empty surface if we’re chasing bigger drops of rain.
Yet even an ocean of stolen drops won’t drown that still small voice,
As it calls for all the drowning lambs to at least be given a choice.
And every martyr bleeds for what each brick in every church demands,
That we stop dragging the wealth of Egypt across the desert sand.
Making every provision a tool for harvest distinctly where we stand,
And watch the good news honor God for the sake of one lost man.
This is one of my favorite poems written by a very humble soul, Kevin Adams. He is a dear friend of mine whose writing inspires and encourages me a great deal. You would be blessed to visit his blog, Wake Up My Faith, as he lives for one year on faith alone.