A Poem: How Good

God I would tell you how good you are
but I can’t

Good things come in small packages.
Gifts of generosity and sacrifice,
or through great acts made by
surrender to the self.

This goodness
is what you stand for,
and you are all that.

God I would tell you how good you are
but I can’t.

Good things are made of sweet offerings
that melt as liquid delights on the tongue
and would have us bowing
in grateful thanks.

This goodness
is what you would give to us,
your heart is that large.

But God I would tell you how good you are
but I can’t.

Good things are how we measure
the favour bestowed upon us
by your smiling countenance,
the reward for our endeavours.

This affirmation you would impart
tells us in part that we’ve arrived,
plateaued on some higher plane.

Yes God I would tell you how good you are
but I can’t.

The God who is all good is also the author of travail
and the pain that turns us inside out,
breaks us into smithereens
to shine like broken glass.

This goodness
which comes with a holy veil
keeps us yet from complete understanding.

So that we might tell him how good he is
but can’t

At least not until we can say thank you
for everything that comes,
good or ill,
whether for our initial benefit or not.

For God, more than our measurements
could ever gauge,
is great.

So that we might tell him how good he is
but can’t.

For the Sovereign God is all that
we might call him, and more,
more good, and more great
than any mere words could convey

And it’s not until we lie prostrate on
the ground,
in our Gethsemane

that we can say with any truth
‘Your will prevail’.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
November 2018

 


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