The Father's son, Jesus Christ
Held it out to me, from atop His scar,
A  beautiful but select old fashioned key,
Openly displayed not hidden in a jar.
His eyes seeing me as only He can
How do I fail to know all we can be?

With trembling fingers I gently touch
Unsure of what doors it unlocked,
My finger tip glazed His scar
All I thought I knew just disappeared,
My knowledge sank in my simple mind
As His wisdom briefly in its place appeared.

How precious this key He gives,
Surely I must protect it regardless of the cost?
It comes from the One who overcame death,
Affording us every protection, every security post?
This is the eternal key to the Father's house
How can it be used to reach the lost?

Do I hide it, guard it, silence it
Even in times of greatest need?
Do I keep its presence a secret
Let rumor and legend grow their seed?
Is this the best to keep thieves away
Make silence my lifelong creed?

Should I refuse it after all
Though I asked Jesus into my heart?
For I am not worthy of His trust
Could I really complete my part?
Do I not have doubt in myself
Down to a dark type of art?

Then almost as I backed away
I heard Jesus whisper in my ear,
"At Judgment when asked the question
You were offered the key so dear,
The key to Our Father's house,
How did you use it year after year?"

Did you accept all the possibilities
Of what the Father could open for you,
If you took the Father's house key
Perhaps opened a door or two?
Invited people in to meet the Father?
What did you do, who did you woo?

How will you answer this question
"What did you do with the Father's key?"
What will be your honest answer?
Will Jesus receive the truth of what you believe?
What will Jesus oh, so clearly see?
Did you use it so the lost receives?

---dfav
4/12/2021