This morning my colleague David Cooper preached at the first of a series of anniversary services in Dundonald Methodist. He had been minister to that congregation over 40 years ago when it was still a church plant operating out of a temporary hut. He spoke on "Celebrating the Journey with Jesus" and was excellent. But what he said reminded me of this piece that I wrote for an event at the Methodist Conference the last time it was in Dublin 5 years ago.
From slavery to freedom;
A long road through the desert.
No short-cuts, but
Made longer by a lack of trust
And a longing for the past;
Pots of meat at the end of a day.
Ah! The good old days…
It may have been slavery,
But at least you got your supper.
But despite their disobedience
And their grumbling
You travelled with them.
They thought they carried you in a box
But you carried them in the palm of your hand.
You provided for them.
You protected them.
You fought for them.
Stood behind them to guard their backs.
Went ahead of them to blaze the trail.
You pitched your tent in their midst.
A tent
Not a temple
But a tent
A temporary stopping place
On the long road
From slavery to freedom.
A long road through the desert.
No short-cuts, but
Made longer by a lack of trust
And a longing for the past;
Pots of meat at the end of a day.
Ah! The good old days…
It may have been slavery,
But at least you got your supper.
But despite their disobedience
And their grumbling
You travelled with them.
They thought they carried you in a box
But you carried them in the palm of your hand.
You provided for them.
You protected them.
You fought for them.
Stood behind them to guard their backs.
Went ahead of them to blaze the trail.
You pitched your tent in their midst.
A tent
Not a temple
But a tent
A temporary stopping place
On the long road
From slavery to freedom.
© David Campton 2004
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