Our Man Bob

You know those jokes Told by some folks, With Saint Peter at the gate? He won’t have to ask, nor even wait “Hi! I’m Bob and I’m a Christian! How are you? What’s up, mister?” Peter smiles. “Simply marvelous, dear. Blessed beyond measure, now that you’re here.” You see, our man is no stranger To this place with no danger I wouldn’t be at all surprised If he’s giving tours to the newly arrived He’ll meet the apostles and prophets Full formal names? Nah, just drop it Jimmy, Jerry, Pete, and Paul Our beloved man knows ‘em all They’ll share the verses that each of them wrote Bob’ll race ‘em and probably quote And just before he reaches race’s end, He’ll turn, see, and say, “You are my Amen!” He’ll kiss and embrace his Lordly Savior His presence evermore to savor By cuttin’ a rug in Heaven’s ballroom Or standing silent—his only other volume I knew this man first as a brother, Then as pastor, mentor—almost a father Showed me excellence: Don’t fudge it, Especially when it comes to making a budget Asked my boys, “Who does your hair?” (This he never feared: number one, all over there) We would argue the best way to drive: Fast and precise or safe, sure to arrive He sang this truth like it was an ode: Christians don’t die, only change ZIP codes Bob lived and led true wisdom from above But most of all, he showed everyone love His favorite Bible book was Ecclesiastes And last of all but certainly not least: This picture ought not be painted, But who told you, you were naked?