16/02/2018
PIETER’S PAIN WON’T BE IN VAIN
Barefooted, torn jacket and dirty patched trousers -
I am sitting here, waiting for the farm lorry for hours.
My family all died and my dog and I the only ones alive;
Left behind in a dilapidated cottage and strive to survive.
With rheumatic pains, swollen joints, but a desire to work,
I trust the lorry will turn up before its too late and too dark.
Sometimes I question the ways of the Lord;
But I’ll keep on trusting, as my dear mother had taught.
I don’t even understand what the minister preaches in Church
But despite of this, I’ll keep on for His Kingdom to search
The self-righteous laugh, look down and mock at my condition
Pull their faces, because I don’t fit into their circles and position.
Does not matter what they say, but what God thinks of me.
And even if the farmer won’t turn up, I’ll climb up a tree;
Like the biblical Zacchaeus, not to see the pickup truck, but the Lord!
Who will appear suddenly to fetch his children and take them aboard.
“Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.” James 8:4