Against The Flow

There’s a terror in the “present” when you’re thirty thousand feet,
While scudding ’cross the surface, dodging people that you meet;
Like spacecraft in some Star Wars flick, a zillion miles per hour,
You know the action’s way out front – in present there’s no power.

So how does one address this scene when flick turns into real?
How can one cope with present, when one’s ship’s not made of steel?
How does one make one’s way across this rugged, crowded space?
How does one get to finish line when others you now face?

Lord, what I hear is, “Throttle back; stop all that you now do;
Start doing what I told you to, it’s good enough for you;
Just ease right back, enjoy the scene, let others weave and bank;
And in the end I’ll get you there, then you’ll have Me to thank.

“For if you try to get there on your own, quite dead you’ll be;
But in My care and keeping it’s the finish line you’ll see;
Don’t worry ’bout the other guys, their problems are their own;
And you’ll get there just like they will when they start heading home.”

Thanks Lord, for this.

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