“The sermon of The Lord is not for interruption,
is not for a break in communication,
is not to contain a fractured sentence uncompleted.
The sermon of The Lord is as the knife-edge of the truth,
cuts to the very point,
holds the knife of circumcision pointed at the heart.
The sermon of The Lord does not paper over wounds,
removes the infestations,
inspects for signs of contamination.
The sermon of The Lord uplifts the spirit,
offers guidance to the soul,
seeks the health of temples.
The sermon of The Lord is nailed upon the doorway of the heart,
is there to see upon an inward glance,
is there as the bidding of The Lord.
The chambers of the heart know what is nailed upon their doorway,
can struggle with a removal,
can carefully carry it within.
The chambers of the heart can beat in unison with the sermon,
can treat it as a stray encounter on a random walk.
The chambers of the heart can secrete,
can hide within a dungeon,
can display as washing on a line;
can deny by foreclosing on a destiny in committing to a lie,
can own-up in admission and rewash the dirty linen.
The linen of The Lord dresses the servants of The Lord.
The linen of The Lord always starts in spotless cleanliness,
can gather dirt encroaching from the hemlines,
can be blackened by a heart.
The linen of The Lord becomes the linen of the servant,
reflects the servant’s walk,
shows to all his standings and his falls.
The linen of the servant is a critical possession,
is cut into the gown of life,
is the tableau of commitment resulting from the action or inaction of that servant’s life.
The linen of the servant displays his treasure as of today,
his treasure stored within a storehouse,
his treasure with his name on,
his treasure stored for all to see,
his treasure as a badge of honour,
his treasure of the jewels of life securely stored beyond the grave.
The gown of life of servanthood is declared with all finality,
with all its jewels intact,
with all its garlands won -
held ready for the fitting on rebirth from the grave.”