Brother Fuller, Overflowing

 
His voice almost an auctioneer’s
His tone assured, authoritative
His words convicting
Pure scripture many times
And with joy unspeakable:
“We are beholders, containers
Of the supernatural, my friends.
Time and again Pentecost comes
Perhaps not with the grandeur
Of that First Church
But warmly, honestly
And with the fragrance of Christ.
We know of our roots, our journey
Our cleansing
Unavoidable trials
Certain destination.
We have been called
We remember the Spirit’s wooing
We know not why
We only rejoice
Circumstances notwithstanding.
That oppressive world says
We are tied up in knots
By rules and by fear.
In so saying they are part wrong and part right
No not rules but constraining love
Not dread of the Almighty
But holy compunction never to disappoint.
Love’s captives we are.
And thankful for it.
We take the abuse
Forgive at all costs
Share what little we have
Speak the good report
Stop at the gutter
To uplift the tear-streaked ones.
It’s the life force of Jesus
Nothing of our manufacture
And isn’t it wonderful?
Unlike any other known joy?
There are some here
Who need the transaction
They know it
You know it…Brother…Sister…Child.
The invitation will be given shortly.”
_________________________
Just then the choir
Off to the side in that summer’s tent
Began singing:
Tell me the old old story
Of unseen things above
Of Jesus and His glory
Of Jesus and His love.
 

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