Sunday, October 11, 2020

PRIDE...KILLS...LOVE


Power, all authority, was there

Resting on the shoulders of the just.

In the Upper Room, so unaware,

Disciples lounged, their feet adorned with dust.

Every one preoccupied with self,


Keeping close the greatness self assumed,

Intimacy languished on the shelf.

Like a pet, egos were fondly groomed.

Love, however, made its presence plain

Softly, unobtrusively and low;


Leaving them to preen, He rose again.

Over to the basin stand to go.

Volunteering humbly, love complete,

Exemplifying grace, He washed their feet.


MNA

10/11/2020


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