The Podium of Horror

I am completely humbled
That God has gifted me
Lost count of all the words
Poetic thoughts flow endlessly.

Thinking this is my purpose
For me it has just occurred
I am merely a storage place
For God pens every written word.

Thinking this is my purpose
To give these words away
It does not intimidate, so
In comfort I wish to stay.

But another gift He gives to me
Many come to tell of their sorrow
A grief I carry in my heart
I shall pray of it tomorrow.

My heart overflows with pain
Even these I do not know
They come, leave such brokenness
Woefully, tearfully they go.

Thinking this is my purpose
To ask my God please heal
Then words pour out from Him
As He allows me to feel.

Thinking this is my purpose
I have certainly prayed for this
To write this burden, this sorrow
But there is something amiss.

One comes boldly to me
You are a speaker, she said
You must use this gift
No! No screams in my head.

Yet her voice would not retreat
God is there something more?
Are You truly asking me?
To stand at the podium of horror?

Thinking this is my purpose
Oh my purpose is Your will
Imagining the horror of Your purpose
When You died on that bloody hill.

The podium of horror? How arrogant
My purpose, what can it be?
Dare I ask the question?
Knowing how You suffered for me.

Lord, I beg forgive this soul
Remembering every sin You bore
I will honor You my Savior God
Falling down at the podium of horror.

Book by Kathleen Higham

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