Faith by Mark Spencer

Many have stood behind their faith,
Some listing their good deeds;
To hear them talk, you'd think their faith,
Surpassed the mustard seed.

They volunteer at soup kitchens,
Whenever they have time.
Some were even missionaries,
A bell they often chime.

But are such things true tests of faith,
How much was sacrificed?
Did they give up all that they had,
To share the path of Christ?

Did they sell everything they owned,
And give it to the poor?
Or was it there when they returned,
As it had been before?

If the soup kitchen floor was hot,
Enough to melt their shoes,
Would they still volunteer their time,
Were there something to lose?

And if a missionary group
Were sent into Iraq,
Would anybody choose to go
If they might not come back?

Just look at Father Damien,
He's called the leper priest.
He served the Lord on Molokai,
Attending to the least.

Damien knew the risks he took,
And yet, he did not flee.
If you were faced with life and death,
What would your choices be?

For faith is one who walks a road
Through perilous terrain,
Should he ever dare to wander,
His quest will be in vain.

With every step the faithful take,
The light will slowly dim,
Until there is only darkness
To guide the way for them.

Faith will not fall down on its knees,
And cry out to the Lord.
It never slows, nor breaks its stride,
To fumble for its sword.

For fear does not reside in Faith,
Despair does not belong,
Her resolve is unwavering,
Faith's trust in God is strong.

No light need guide this traveler,
For doubt won't cross his mind.
He need not see the road ahead,
The man of faith is blind.

How many Father Damien's
Are on the earth today,
Who give up everything they have,
To follow Christ this way?

To hear them talk, a multitude
Would surely do the same.
Churches are filled with leper priests,
But that, only in name.

For when it's time to walk this road,
You'll still find them in church,
Singing songs about their exploits,
Atop their lofty perch.

While clinging to your worldly things,
You cannot walk this walk.
To speak but never take a step,
Is only empty talk.

The faithful give up everything,
Submitting to God's plan,
They will go where their Lord leads them,
To help their fellow man.

And just like Father Damien,
There may be sacrifice.
Sometimes the one who chooses faith,
Must also pay a price.

But if an altruistic heart
Is beating in one's breast,
No matter how the story ends,
Through faith they will be blessed.

Though death may stalk the road ahead,
Like some shadowy wraith,
It cannot hope to slow the pace,
Of those who walk in faith.

Wess (66.158.178.175) -- Thursday, January 21 2010, 08:50 am

Loved it!
Sounds like you know a lot of hypocrites. I know a few myself. And yes, the folks who volunteer for missionary work or soup kitchen detail, do tend to toot their own horn a bit. I hope you don't mind, but I just might have to quote you the next time they do.

Megan (166.205.8.211) -- Saturday, January 23 2010, 12:43 am

They do toot their own horns - don't they?
I worked for a guy who talked about all the missionary work he did. I was talking with a friend on break one day. I had just started going back to church, after a long time away. I was thinking about volunteering my time at the half-way house the church owned, when this jerk chimed in, talking about all of the time he spent working with the homeless, and all of the missionary service he'd done. It was like he was competing with me. Anyway great poem.

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