I searched, but only carefully
I pored through every book I could
And finding all the facts laid out,
I took the ones I thought were good.

I organized these chosen facts
Into my childhood’s frame of mind
And those that did not seem so good,
Towards them I carefully was blind.

I grew, and took the battlefield
As every child must someday do.
And every foe that cut me down,
Seemed only to my faith renew.

I mourned at every telling blow
That sought to find the killing thrust.
And on the field of battle I
Found power, comfort, hope and trust.

As one by one by childish thoughts
Were yearly, roughly cast apart
A solid rock would not be moved,
An iron core of soul and heart.

See, all my loss to date was nil.
And brief was all the pain implied:
My God could not be hurt or killed
For He, because of me, had died.

Does God need me to save His Name,
Who paid a universe’s loss?
He died, but conquered Death itself,
By nailing it upon a cross.

Do not bemoan the cast down things;
Beliefs that can be shaken, should.
Unshaken God is lifted up:
One man, three nails, and roughened wood.

— Travis Johnson, The Paring Way (Note: Travis is part of Downtown Cornerstone Church. He recently sent this to me and I couldn’t help but post it.)