Maranatha Media

To A Father It Led

Posted Oct 15, 2010 by Jonathan Otto in Worship of True God
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My poem expressing my journey in understanding the Father and His Son in scripture


He found me when searching a book in my hand;

A heart full of questions trying to understand.

So I picked up the book and took it as it read;

The mystery unfolded and to a Father it led.

My Saviour, the Son, I cherished do dearly;

For my method of study let me see, oh so clearly.

And in Jesus’ sweet person I found my sonship revealed;

And a Father who gave that a lost child be sealed.

So I stood there a while in that sweet embrace;

I’m a son, found in Christ, I could see my Father’s face.

All my questions found answers in the pages I read freely;

For my method of study let me see, oh so clearly.

I said Lord, may I lead them to be in heaven crowned?

He said, My son, you must lead them to the place you were found.

A teacher called over, and said ‘How do you read?’

He said, ‘I’ll show you, son, and you’ll be in no need.’

He asked questions with no answers, and I searched through my book;

He said, Son, just look deeper. My cherished method; forsook.

I grew fond of power as in new pages I could find

Mysteries and secrets all subject to my mind.

I spoke with Plato and Alexander; even Valentinus, a friend;

And in these wise philosophers my peace of mind found its end.

For I cried out to the Father, ‘Please take these doubts from me!’

In these vain philosophies His face I could not see.

His identity obscured from sight a Father no longer close;

For His Son had lost everything I adored the most.

A Father and Son: heartbreak at Calvary I no longer read;

But three beings, all associates took their place instead.

I sought to ask the question, ‘How can this be understood?’

I faced a stern look and stare, ‘Keep quiet. You’ll do no good.’

And in all the turmoil, I searched for understandings pure;

But the few verses when presented seemed so vague, so obscure.

But I tried to gain souls for him but the gospel lost its power;

No Father or Son, left orphaned, alone; a new method: my darkest hour.

‘From where does the devil roar?’ On my knees I did plead;

A voice came from heaven, ‘My child, tell me how you read.’

I fought tooth and nail; could I lose all prestige?

My ego strove to live; the Lord aided in the siege.

After darkened ages shone the light of William Miller’s key;

The Scriptures unless breaking nature’s law must be read literally.

The truths unfolded like treasure scattered from its rusty chest;

And crowning jewel of splendor, my Father and His Son I deemed best.

I stand here all day in His sweet embrace;

I’m His child found in Christ; I can see my Father’s face.

And that precious word of promise, You’re my son; in you I’m proud

Received in Jesus, God’s own Son, I am finally found!