Son or Servant
Son or Servant
Facing the dust with a trembling plea,
Rehearsing the words of apology,
A prodigal son with a wandering heart,
Who traded love to journey apart.
He longed for freedom, his own selfish way,
And walked from the Father who begged him to stay.
Yet far from home, in sorrow and pain,
He found that the world leaves nothing to gain.
In a pig’s pen broken, hungry, and worn,
He awakened at last like the light of the morn.
The fantasy faded, the glitter grew dim,
And truth like thunder came crashing to him.
“This is not who I truly am,
I was not created for filth or sham.
I once had a place, I once had a name,
Why am I drowning in sorrow and shame?”
He looked at the swine and the husks they would eat,
While servants at home had abundance and meat.
In rags and in ruin he came to his mind,
For mercy was waiting though he had gone blind.
The chains of deception began now to break,
And hope stirred alive with each step he would take.
He rose from the mire, from guilt and despair,
Determined to seek his kind Father’s care.
With rusty rehearsals still clinging inside,
He journeyed back home with his head low in stride.
He thought, “I am unworthy to stand as a son,
Perhaps as a servant I’ll labor and run.”
But while he was walking, still weary and torn,
The Father was watching for his lost one to return.
And when from afar that dear son came in sight,
The Father came running with tears of delight.
He fell on his neck and He kissed him with grace,
Love shining brighter than shame on his face.
For sin cannot hide us nor keep us concealed
From God who sees every wound yet unhealed.
His eyes on the sparrow are faithful and true,
And how much more does He watch over you.
He does not despise us when broken by sin,
But runs with compassion to draw us back in.
He wraps us in mercy though ragged we stand,
And places new garments with His loving hand.
He silences guilt with the warmth of embrace,
And covers our failures with marvelous grace.
No hesitation, no cold delay,
His love rushes toward us when we lose our way.
For we are still His though wandering far,
Still children beneath every wound and scar.
A son is a son though distant he roams,
A daughter still belongs though far from home.
His blood is upon us, His breath gives us life,
He keeps us through weakness, through trouble and strife.
Servants earn wages for labor and days,
But children receive an inheritance raised.
We are heirs of the kingdom, called by His name,
Redeemed by His mercy and cleansed from our shame.
Yet not every heart will rejoice when we rise,
Some stand like the elder with anger in eyes.
Resenting the grace that the lost one receives,
Forgetting the Father still welcomes and sees.
But heaven rejoices when prodigals come,
When wandering children return to their home.
For God seeks the broken, the weary, the lost,
No matter the failure, no matter the cost.
So come to your senses, awaken once more,
There’s mercy and love at the Father’s door.
You were never created to live as a slave,
But called as His child whom His great love saved.
Take hold of your place, let your true name be heard,
Stand firm in His promise and trust in His Word.
For you are not merely a servant unknown—
You are God’s beloved, forever His own.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment