First Father's Day
'Tis strange the notes we take when we
Are placed in contexts where we see
With eyes refreshed and ears awoke
To world around, where thoughts were spoke.Infrequent 'tis the chance when we
Are given opportunity
To view some notes from what we've said,
Thus hear what's entered other's head.For words from us have ‘phimi’ been;
To other folks they ‘logos’ seem,
Until the Spirit livens them
Then ‘rhema’ they become again.For ‘phimi’s’ word once ‘rhema’ were
To us, which into life they spurred
Us with new vigour – inner zest
To live, and give to folks our best.Take words tonight of just that kind –
Notes left behind, mixed in with mine:
“Speak from the truth, not ’bout the truth”,
Reflect their flow on such a route.For ‘logos’ brought to life in one,
Is’ rhema’ – ‘livened words’ become –
When spoken with excitement to
Another ‘phimi’ is to you.So ‘pro’ is ‘for’; and ‘phimi’, ‘word’ –
That's how a pro-phet’s words are heard.
When we stand back and see the route
We see the Spirit’s words, and shout –Delight o'er flowing our heart’s banks,
To God out-pours our words of thanks;
We do not live by bread alone
But by the ‘rhema’ – Spirit grown.So here we are first Father's Day;
We wonder what words we can say
To one so fragile in our care –
Speak from the truth, words will be there.navigation