Guest writer, Phineas Clodfelter,Jr.
My thinkin’ is quaint, and a scholar I ain’t,
But I just got to thinkin’ ‘bout bein’ a saint.
Saint Francis and Joe, and others we know,
For arrivin’ at sainthood, how far did they go?
Now their good deeds and prayer had to be somethin’ rare,
But their great contributions musta’ started somewhere.
My thinkin’ is quaint, and a scholar I ain’t,
But I couldn’t help wondrin’, could I be a saint?
If I told anyone, I knew they’d make fun
And call me plain stupid, misguided, or dumb.
So I’d ask and I’d read, wondrin’ what did I need
To look better to God, and complete my good deeds.
But the more that I learn’t ‘bout the points I had earn’t,
The more I concluded that I’d prob’ly be burnt!
My thinkin’ is quaint, and a scholar I ain’t,
But I couldn’t shake thoughts about bein’ a saint.
Now my friends at the church left me in a lurch,
Sayin’ I should just chill out, and not have to search.
So I tried for a time to leave worries behind,
And just act like the others, bein’ normal but kind.
I splashed on restraint like some thin, off-white paint
Just to make me look holy, but my heart said, “You ain’t!”
My thinkin’ is quaint, and a scholar I ain’t,
Feelin’ more like a snake than the least of the saints!
Now hypocrisy’s cold, and the tension got old,
So why be a two-face, and stay in the fold?
Could salvation be real, heaven be a good deal,
Or was life here and now, just to see, taste and feel?
Now it sounds good from here, “Just indulge without fear,”
But it smelt like a rat whisprin’ in my left ear.
My thinkin’ is quaint, and a scholar I ain’t,
But I got common sense ‘bout what is and what ain’t.
But if not saint nor glutton, well then, what besides nothin’
Could I do with my life; somethin’ real, with no bluffin’?
And if hell’s fires burn, I sure needed to learn
To make peace with my Maker, but where could I turn?
Well, I thought the Good Book was the one place to look,
Steerin’ clear of professors, slick deceivers and crooks.
My smarts ain’t a lot, and a scholar I’m not,
But with God as my Teacher, I could surely be taught.
Then, so simple to see, in John one and John three,
'Says that God’s only Son, came to save ones like me.
In verse six of fourteen, unmistakably seen
Is that Jesus alone can be God’s “go-between.”
Jesus, seekin’ the lost, came to pay the full cost
For redeemin’ believers by death on the cross.
My thinkin’ is quaint, theologian I ain’t,
But so far, seemed too simple, was my only complaint.
From the “wise and the prudent,” see these things are hid,
But made plain to the simple, with faith like a kid.
“But,” I thought, “what good deed, ceremony, or creed
Shall I bring to this Jesus? What from me does He need?”
From more reading time spent, seems God’s message was sent
In two words, oft-repeated, just “believe” and “repent.”
See I’m not awful bright, my intelligence slight,
But it just made good sense to consider God right.
Well, repent means to turn—change direction, I learned.
But then somethin’ within that, seemed to make my gut churn.
To repent sounded right; yet instead of delight,
Stirred up somethin’ like dread that I wanted to fight.
And that churnin’ within churned again and again,
As through dark days and nights, I rejected this Friend.
See, I’m not full of learnin’ nor too quick at discernin’
But a battle of spirit was the cause of that churnin’.
See, that dread deep inside and desire to hide
Came from stubborn self-will, and my self-centered pride.
What deep roots in my soul had this lust for control,
Just to be my own ruler, and set my own goals!
And how tightly I clung to things this life had brung,
Quite forgettin’ that death would reclaim every one.
My mind’s not
too numb. See, there’s room for just one
On the throne of my life, either me or God’s Son!
What has since come to light: there were three in that fight,
With God’s Spirit and Satan pulling me left and right.
When I stood with proud air, Satan drew to his lair.
When I bowed in conviction, he pushed toward despair.
While inclined to God’s Word, God confirmed what I heard.
Thoughts of saving myself were dismissed as absurd.
I’m not smart as can be, but two ways I could see.
The choice now was clear. It was just up to me.
And then, even more scared, I could see I’s ensnared
By my sin and my self. ...But I knew Jesus cared.
If ‘twere nothin’ to feel—just a tidy, cold deal—
Though salvation made sense, it just wouldn’t seem real.
But by faith I could see, in His deep agony,
As He suffered and bled, He was dying for
me!
Such a death-blow to pride, leaving nowhere to hide!
So I fell at His feet, and for mercy I cried.
“O come taste and see,” say the scripture and me,
That the Lord is so good, who can heal and set free!
For confusion, gave sight; for cold darkness, warm light;
For my guilt and vague longings, gave me peace and delight!
Now ho-hum seem to be all religions I see,
But God’s grace is amazing, that can save you and me!
See, I’m not a big wheel, or quite one for big speels,
But it makes one more eloquent, just to know somethin’s real.
Now I study and pray, what the Bible might say,
To be useful and please my dear Lord every day.
And Paul’s letters, so true, speak to saints—not a few—
There in all of those churches; and “ten thousands,” says Jude.
'Seems the saints march toward Home, in a number alone
That’s determined by God, not the big church in Rome.
Yes, my thinkin’ is quaint, and a scholar I ain’t
But by gum, I’ll be dim’d now,
if I ain’t a saint!
Copyright 2014, Larry D. Gibbs
