Guest Post By Wayne Thomas Batson

Oh, Lord, you know
I have ideas all the time.
But I often wonder,
Which are yours and which are mine?

I toil in silence with thoughts and words,
While minutes spin and hours fly,
Wondering if it’s all worth it,
Or will be when I die.

Could I have better spent my days
With family and with friends,
Or in the mission field,
Where means justify the ends?

Could I have done something more
Than crafting stories in so many pages?
More than making up lives of fiction
That might not live on through the ages?

How can my feeble language
Capture your grace, your hope, your love?
How can the plans of a broken man
Ever be enough?

What if no one ever reads my work?
Or just to be polite, a few?
Can all these images and words
Be written just for You?

Maybe I could sow or reap,
But stories make my heart sing.
So I present to You these pages
As a private offering.

The Lord’s reply came swiftly
Over many years, hard learned.
He said, have you ever seen me waste a tear
Or from a faithful gesture turn?

Those minutes, hours, years you spend
Have already been redeemed.
Not one word written on my behalf
Will be as fruitless as it seemed.

For I do not judge by reviews or likes
Or by bestseller lists.
Your name in lights could never match
Your humble willingness.

Let me have your every word
Every sentence, every story.
I will take that meager bread
And multiply it for my glory.

Take the gift I gave you
Brook no fear nor regret.
Your good and faithful service
Will touch the world as I intend.

About Wayne Thomas Batson

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