A poem by Adam Lambdin when struggling with pride
Jesus is the only unmoved mover ever in realtime,
And our calendars, as well as worldly thrones,
Revolve around His presence here or absence alone.
Of this, there are small examples
in our daily lives which move us instead.
Reminding us of the inability we all
possess to do other than run from His judgments, forestalled.
Even a scrawny cat makes me give way at the door,
let alone the weather from skies forlorn.
Yet, who am I to Him? Either son or dissident undone.
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