When worst is the best

a poem by Mabel Annie Chacko

As I was sitting down one day,
I felt the need to think and pray,
But soon my thoughts overtook prayer,
A still small voice called out,”Beware!”

“Ignore that voice.”, concern called out,
“You must get up, you lazy lout,
And tend to things that need your care,
Pray later, He’ll still be there.”

As I gave way to what he said,
I felt a sense of fear and dread,
The floodgates opened, doubts poured in,
They took control with much chagrin.

My list of worries grew and grew,
I cried out, “God, what should I do?”
Again He spoke, I heard His voice,
And realised, I had a choice.

I could dwell upon these things,
Or give them to the King of Kings…
Enter into Holy rest,
And stand on His promise for the best.

I entered in and took His peace,
My spirit felt a great release,
Thing of this world may worry some,
For me, the best is yet to come.

For those who stand on His sweet rest,
The worst to happen, is the best.
Because in death we have His grace,
And then we meet him face-to-face.