Monday, July 3, 2017

Tony Titshall - The Sadness of Knowing

The Sadness of Knowing

The Passion, the Heart, the Voice, the Cry

I have taught them and revealed the mysteries of the kingdom,
shown a harvest so great, yet the laborers are few.
I lived and moved among them, and they knew me not,
I still do, and they still don’t,
for given eyes, they cannot see.
The Son of man hath no place to lay his head.

I have fed them, healed them, embraced them, loved them.
I have stilled their storms and restored their peace,
I have straightened their paths, and eased their minds.
I have opened their eyes to the truth of themselves.
For which of these things do they now stone me?

I have gone before them to prepare a place.
I have carried their burdens and removed their fears,
I have called unto me the heavy laden and given them rest.
I have even raised them from the dead, yet they still do not believe.
Father, take this cup from my hands.

Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.
Not only do they not hear what I say, they know not who I AM.
Not only do they not understand, they cannot hear the truth of who they are.
Yet, despite all this, how unbearably great is my love for them all.
Jerusalem, oh Jerusalem.

Unknown among my own people, I am scourged and mocked.
Even by those closest to me, I am doubted, denied, betrayed.
Called a blasphemer, how heavy is my heart, how troubled my soul.
Have I been so long with you, and you still do not know me?
Oh ye of little faith.

My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?
A prophet without honor in his own city,
will I burst, that what is in me
give birth to the silent storms of Revelation,
too close to see, to speak the way,
too loud to hear, too soft to say
The Sadness of Knowing.


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