That Hall...so different

 

That Hall

Never been here before

Bunch of cars outside

Quiet friendly greetings

But no hilarity.

Many heads bowed

Waiting for important 

Business it seems.

Keyboard unseen at front

Strikes up resonating chords.

Then the lead guitar.

Grabs attention.

Singers moving forward

Hands swaying at the sides.

Assembly rises to its feet

Guess I should too.

And it feels very right.

Nobody needs lyrics

On the screen or in a book.

Seemingly stored in hearts.

Now opened like

Little treasure chests.

No errant chatting.

Whole  room dedicated

To worship.

Even tone-deaf ones

Who raise hands in dedication.

This thing really moves.

No one...and I mean

No one

Appears ready for a sit-down.

Presence of Jesus invoked.

And something shifts

Can’t really describe it.

But I marvel at it.

Belly quivers.

Cheeks wet. 
Kingly comfort and challenge.

This is His house.

These are His people.

Citizens of Heaven.

Note: wrote this poem on my tablet parked in my car in an empty Pentecostal church lot opposite the coffee shop, King Street, Waterloo. Four thirty AM. Dark and raining. Gospel music playing. Knock at my window. Didn’t see the cruiser pull up. Courteous young constable wanted to know my purpose. Seemed somewhat unusual. Asked for my name. Address? I paused for a moment mute. Looking at him full on. Then I started what I thought would be a civil liberties tirade, “This is remarkable” I said. But Spirit checked me. Said, Love Sonny Boy, right now. 

“Doug Blair”, I said. Started to explain to the man my writings of poetry, my unexpected inspirations and surprising browser responses worldwide. How it all started with the urging of a friend over 11 years ago. Now many sites for different Gospel purposes. He took the link to a blog of mine. We parted with smiles each. Covid 19 leverage or God moments? About twelve of them. Twelve. The discipling number .