If we got real, would they believe?

We want the youth to venerate the hoary head, but what incentive do the have to do so?

We hide our age in order to look young again and many times wind up looking foolish. We dye our hair in shades we never saw within our youth. We cover wrinkles or stretch them tight or maybe fill them with carnuba wax. We hide our mistakes, those experiences that were to be used to teach the young and pretend our lives were filled with only pretty things and happy times.

If we awoke one day, wrinkled and gray,
And told of times not too long ago;
Would it keep the young from going astray?
Would it be possible to tell them what we know?

To admit to them that once we were young and foolish;
To admit to them that we once were filled with spit and vinegar;
To admit our chastity was frayed, torn and foolish;
To admit that we drank from the bitter pills of lust and anger?

To tell of dreams we once had?
To tell of aspirations gone bad?
To tell of love fleeting and lost?
To tell of love stolen and past?

To tell of conquering fear of the unknown?
To tell of living on the edge of the town?
To tell of giving more than we had?
To tell of loving enough to let go?

To tell of poems written on the sly?
To tell of a gift that would never return?
To tell of a heart that never said goodbye?
To tell of a Saviour Who would never leave?

If we got real, would they believe?

 

Shalom!  Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem!