A Counselor Familiar with Dust
You didn’t impatiently check your watch like
you had someplace more important to be.
A God who listens.
You didn’t stare down my vulnerability
in disgust as I poured out my broken heart.
You grabbed a tissue and sobbed with me.
A God who cries.
Your counsel didn’t come down from a distant marble throne.
You stepped into the crowd, looking for me.
A God who draws near.
ME—A single lost sheep.
You took my hand
into your callused carpenter’s hand
and walked the journey of hope with me.
A God who touches humanity.