Bricks or Sticks

(Really, the choice is plain,
Where loss is gain and
Gain is dross;
Where’s might’s not right and
Blind is sight.
The choice is here and
Here right now:
Not What? and When?, but
Who? and How?)

Men with sticks, they tap and lean;
Blind and weak, they know their need –
They know the Crutch is how they’re freed.
Three-legged friends, in whom I’ve seen
Release from soulish, selfish ends.

Now men with bricks know no such limp –
They’re strong and big, they’re Lives out Loud;
They’re Sunny Days with scarce a cloud
And scarcely too have time for wimps,
Who would never make their Building Crew.

This limping lot aren’t apt to build,
But totter on in needy stance.
This walk of weakness – to Christ a Dance –
Grants them frail friends, a Rejects’ Guild,
Whose means will never make their Ends.

The strong ones bake and lay their bricks;
They build at pace as men at work
And raise their towers like kings berserk.
They read for power and place their ticks
By feats that make the feeble cower.

But when deeper in the Word we peer
We see weak men strong and strong made weak;
We see bread that feeds in ravens’ beaks
And One Who builds with those whose Fear
Is greater than great goals fulfilled.

Some with sticks and some with bricks –
Who shall be crowned on Kingdom Day?
Men who made much, of whom much was made?
The ones e’er healthy, the Never-Sick?
Well, where’s the Healer, with the frail or wealthy?

There’s change afoot, a New Revival
That brick-men miss as men who lead –
The Mustard Plant’s not for mighty weeds
Who fierce promote their own survival
Above a Heaven too remote for them to sense
There’s a Future to their Present Tense.
There’s a Builder upon Whom weak men lean,
And in leaning live out their wildest dreams.

Men with sticks and men with bricks –
Make your choice and take your pick.
Make it wisely, make it now;
It’s not What? and When?, but
Who? and How?

Nick