Winter's chill takes the sensitivity out of my hands
As I walk along the snowy edge of the creek.
Doubt's chill takes the sensitivity out of my heart
As I walk through the cold paths of life.
I look at the water in the stream, moving, flowing, staying
Above freezing despite the icy conditions surrounding it.
I look at my own heart; is it moving and staying
Above the freezing point of indifference?
How does that water remain warm enough to respond
To it's destiny and speed onward to the sea?
How can I keep my heart warm enough to respond
To a holy God even when everything around me is frozen?
The water refuses to stop and hold contact
With the icy conditions that would lead it to lose it's warmth.
I must refuse to stop or hold contact
With the bitter fears that would lead me to lose His passion.
The stream must keep moving, busy
About the things it's meant to do.
I must keep moving, actively seeking
To know my Savoir's Presence.
Those droplets must keep themselves pursuing
The warmer waters that lie downstream.
No matter the world's chill, I desire yet warmer fellowship;
I must keep my eyes fixed on my goal: pursuing Him.
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