I Do not Qualify

I Do not Qualify

(“After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” Luke 5:27)

How many times have You asked me;
over and over until I got up out of my crouch,
or just once, while You waited for the Yes
to run from my mouth to my feet? Direction
and discreet turns of phrase to keep me disguised
well enough.

I could follow, my name misspelled enough,
to enjoy the walk without explaining my choice.

Pretty soon I found the rags You left me, donned them,
looked bereft as I thought You meant me,
and talked just like the guys on the radio who
told me where to turn in my Bible while I was driving
deliveries for the downtown pharmacy in the VW bug
without a muffler. I don’t think I followed better then,
but the rest of Your team certainly thought I did.

Finally, a decade or so, I think my heart is finally in it,
but more lost than the day I left my seat. I don’t mean
to complain, but a high school education makes me feel
like no one at all when I am sure I could have studied, striding
down Berkeley’s Halls on at least a scholarship or half.
But I left the hope for higher learning thinking You meant
my sight set on Higher learning yet. I will follow You to
the end,
I will.
But we will have to have a conversation about that at
the end,
we will.

My heart is in it, following You, I mean. My feet and hands
and voice and wardrobe are sadder than they have ever been.
All I want to do is ask each one at the crossroad to
follow You,
but it is not enough, and teary I remember pictures I
nailed on the dream walls; preaching to half a thousand,
teaching to hundreds who memorized the notes in hand.

I do not qualify for the big sky palaces, they want Masters of
Divinity,
not Community College dropouts like me.

My heart is in it, following You, I mean. I’m must not sure
where that means for me to go, my voice is throaty, my thoughts
disjointed, my eyes red with tears, and my feet swollen. I love You
more,
and more Your people as well.

For me, please, grant the hundreds of friends and fields and
mother and brothers You said I would have in
this world
as well as
the world
to come.