Moving Times

Once I was a farmer
working in the dirt,
in amongst the clover
with heartache on my shirt;
trusting in the Savior
through the floods and droughts,
resting in His refuge
still, I had my doubts.

Now moved to the city
working on a screen,
in amongst the numbers
with clover now unseen;
still trusting in God's grace
through the ups and downs,
relying on forgiveness
while putting on some pounds.

Once I liked the country
with all its sights and sounds,
in amongst my good friends
with the livestock and the hounds;
learning trust in Jesus
though the times were hard,
dancing through the sunshine
though my hands were scarred.

Now I enjoy a spreadsheet
crunching numbers with a glee,
in amongst my neighbours
with clotheslines I can see;
learning to drive in traffic
moving with the times,
now an ageing grandpa
playing with my rhymes.

You can move my location
by changing what I see,
my taste in music - different
like the times I have to pee;
no matter where I travel
through grace I am approved,
from following the Father
I will not be moved.

Lord You are before me
watching each step I take,
help me to remain faithful
knowing what is at stake;
moved not by seeking ease
but by my careful choice,
moved not by indifference
only by the Spirit's voice.

Psalm 16:8 ESV I have set the LORD always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.

Note: I still like the country. I now live in a regional city, where I work as an accountant servicing farming clients.