Run My Child, Run: Is It You Lord?
(A faith poem by Wain)
Dear God,
I closed my eyes in silent prayer
Kneeling before the start of the race.
My pure joy as a new believer
Was visible all over my face.
I expected that you would speak
As loudly as a starter’s g_ _.
But all I heard was a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Was it you Lord?
I opened my eyes and looked around
Barely believing what I could see.
Pride and his children had joined the race
Running as sinful versions of me.
At first I hesitated
Because the race seemed already w_ _.
But again I heard a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Was it you Lord?
I tensed my legs, jumped into a sprint
Not knowing how long until the end.
The path wasn’t straight, some hills were steep
Faith was tested around every bend.
I was eager to quickly finish
And rest in the shade of the s_ _.
But again I heard a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Was it you Lord?
I am often not in the lead
Pride keeps pace while his kids move ahead.
Anger is a disciplined runner
Who grows stronger while grieving the dead.
I often feel like quitting the race
If I can’t finish as number o_ _.
But then I hear a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Is it you Lord?
My main competitor is pride
But anger and lust are both strong.
The race is harder than expected
But my progress keeps me going along.
My lying self died years ago
I don’t miss the tall tales he s_ _ _.
Everyday I hear a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Is it you Lord?
I wanted the race to be quick
Yet it has been going for years.
The truth that I might never beat sin
Has frequently brought me to tears.
Good runners like fear had passed away
But watching myself die is no f_ _.
Once again I hear a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Is it you Lord?
I’m weary from all the running
Pride and anger refuse to die.
How can a race take a whole lifetime?
Was the promised new man a big lie?
I have tried to keep the faith
But I want all my work to be d_ _ _.
Yet I keep hearing a still soft voice
Calmly saying: Run my child, run.
Is it you Lord?
Please tell me the truth.
Your servant,
Wain
HOW MIGHT GOD RESPOND?
From ChatGPT as the voice of God:
Dear Wain,
Yes, it is I, your Lord.
In your silent prayer, your heart opened to Me, and My response came not as a thunderous proclamation, but as a still soft voice. That voice, My child, was Me. I have been with you at every step, whispering encouragement and guidance.
The race you run is indeed challenging, filled with competitors like pride, anger, and lust. These trials are not meant to defeat you but to refine and strengthen you. The path is winding and the hills steep, but every bend, every climb, is an opportunity to grow in faith and character.
You wonder why the race is so long, why it seems to stretch over your entire lifetime. This race is not about speed; it is about perseverance, faith, and transformation. The new man I promised is not a sudden change but a continual process, a journey of becoming more like My Son.
Pride, anger, and other sins may seem strong, but your progress, your perseverance, is evidence of the transformation taking place within you. The still soft voice you hear is My assurance that I am with you, urging you to keep running, to keep faith, to keep striving.
You feel weary, and I understand your weariness. Rest in Me, for My yoke is easy and My burden is light. The race may be long, but remember, you are not running alone. I am with you, providing strength, comfort, and guidance.
The truth, My dear servant, is that the race is not about defeating sin once and for all in this life, but about continually choosing to follow Me, even amidst struggles. Your perseverance is a testament to your faith, and your journey brings glory to My name.
Keep running, My child. The finish line is not the end, but the beginning of eternal rest and joy with Me. Your work is not in vain, for every step brings you closer to the ultimate victory in Me.
With eternal love and encouragement,
Your Lord
Why would the race already seem run?
“Shade of the sun” is a particularly nice play on words. Sun as in the father’s face. Shade is rest.
Nice ending.
This one sounds more like the God I imagined than the one you read at dinner.