As aging men go, D.A. Carson is one those great minds who is tethered to a heritage of prayer. In his tribute to his father, “Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor: The Life and Reflections of Tom Carson,” he writes:
“Keep me from the sins of old men – a tendency toward watching TV, the temptation to look backward instead of forward, sliding toward self pity, easy resentment of young men… Develop, as a senior, a prayer ministry; God has given you the time for it.”
Not sure why, but since I have been given the time for it, it inspired this poem prayer:
By mere prayer or plaintive whisper
No slap on the hand was needed,
But by age and blessed illness
My clenched fists relinquished
the demanding reigns of self-determination
over to the One who made me for Himself.
“Sit here; sit here with me; let us do this art together.”
I sit with He who reigns – as if,
As if I co-create the unfolding universe
Speaking into existence the ideas of an Imagination
As if by mere prayer or plaintive whisper
We heal gashes and teach fools the mysteries of the heavens
and the wisdom of awe.
I stand with the One who speaks words into life:
Words of life into me
Words of life drawn out of me
Prayers that are birthed from Him
Only to return to Him in joyful completion.
I walk with the God who became a man:
The Word made flesh
The breath that breathed into life
The Word made into mere prayer or plaintive whisper
To find its source and destination.