I'll watch for it.
Oh, I know You, my Lord. I know Your ways.
You plot, You plan, You deal like some conniving trader of Ur,
You are like old Terah, You are.
You do not lead me out of Haran, a sojourner in new lands,
You do not change names as easy as a man changes his robe,
You do not destroy cities and spare my kin,
You do not keep Sarah barren and Hagar fertile
Until my wife is four score and 11 and I near five score
Without plan and purpose.
And after all those years of unnatural life bringing forth fruit,
You demand that I toss that fruit aside without even it bringing forth seed?
I don't think so.
I'm a rational man, my Lord,
As rational as ever a man who followed a voice can be.
I've dealt with kings and made my bargains,
Consorted with pharaohs and held my own,
I've even argued with You and brought down Your demands.
I know how men think and how they plan and how they scheme.
Gardens are not planted to be barren,
Nor are cities built to be bankrupt,
Nor are kingdoms forged to surrender.
I am in Your image, I know the broad machinery of Your mind,
I know Your long-laid schemes are not for barrenness, bankruptcy, or surrender.
You are too great a Lord, to promise nations and renege.
Do not, my Lord, think me as calculating as You.
You have my worship, my honor, my gratitude, my love,
Even my obedience, for I know You see far more paths
Than a thousand thousand traders could journey,
More choices that a thousand thousand wives face in the market,
And have marked every one to happen or not to happen or yet to be decided.
Here I am, at Your call, my Lord.
You have my trust that You see the hidden ways
Far clearer than I see the road at my feet.
I may be the grandest schemer to come of new Haran,
But I bow before my Master with all respect and awe.
You are as rational as I, my Lord,
And gifted with far more knowledge.
But as I know the ins and outs of God's images, I know You.
You are not a God to fruitlessly waste Your power.
I followed You to know what wonders You had for me,
Knowing that my son was safe.
And if You had not sent Your angel to stay my hand?
I would have stopped my knife a hairsbreadth from My Son's neck,
Tossed my blade aside,
And told you to find some other man to crawl before you.
Copyright 1998,2002 by Charles Lipsig