A poem from Malcolm Boyd to those friends of mine who struggle

• from his 1965 book of personal prayers Are You Running with Me, Jesus.

I'm crying and shouting inside tonight, Jesus,
and I'm feeling completely alone.

All the roots I thought I had are gone.
Everything in my life is an upheaval.
I am amazed that I can maintain any composure
when I'm feeling like this.

The moment is all that matters; the present moment
is of supreme importance.
I know this.
Yet in the present I feel dead.

I want to anchor myself in the past
and shed tears of self-pity.
When I look ahead tonight
I can see only futility, pain, and death.
I am only a rotting body,
a vessel of disease,
potentially a handful of ashes
after I am burned.

But you call me tonight
to love and responsibility.
You have a job for me to do.
You make me look at other persons
whose needs make my self-pity a mockery and a disgrace.

Jesus, I hear you.
I know you.
I feel your presence strongly in this awful moment,
and I thank you.
Help me onto my feet.
Help me to get up.

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Read about him here.