A Sonnet about God Seeing Me (hint: He sees you too)

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I wrapped up Thin Places with this sonnet. It recounts the rescuing God who saw me weeping under the evergreen at that camp so long ago. Yesterday, I read this poem for my webcast about transitions of faith. (Check back, you’ll be able to download it for free in a few days.) As I read it out loud, I could feel, taste, and discern God’s love afresh. He saw me in my decay and chose to lift me from it. I love what the Psalmist says, “But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works” (Psalm 73:28, NASB). His nearness, His joyful proximity, is my good.

It’s You whose eyes do see the earth

Gently gliding over mirth

Breathing life and giving birth

Enlivening hearts embracing dearth

I trudge, then fall, then stagger to You

Whose eyes do roam above the view

Who sees the forest and the dew,

Watches decay, yet makes anew

Sustaining me, the God Who Sees

My sapling life beneath the trees

From underbrush and thorns, He frees

The brokenness of all my pleas

O stalwart God, perplexing One

Whose incandescence is my sun

That lights the path I have to run

Though on the road, I come undone

Unwound like balls of fickle string

I crash inside, but long for spring

Until the day I choose to sing

And ride upon Your carrier wing

You carry me, a broken bird

Under pinions, without  word

My soul You green, my hope You gird

And all my pain becomes absurd

You see it all; You see it all

When I rise and when I fall

Sheltering under trees too tall

And You will see me when I call

And I will see You when You call.

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