Poem October 3, 1988 Issue

The house of the Lord

Martha Sage Vang

The way is narrow,
The entrance is small.
The low door is well-worn smooth.
It's made this way for a reason:

So you can't enter with your spear raised,
Or your bow pulled,
Or with tomahawk poised in a clenched fist.
You must come in vulnerable to be changed,
In a humble stance,
On your knees—
Perhaps by a crawl.

With willing outstretched hands,
You discover the true meaning of courage,
In a new kind of battle with sin.
And despite the trail dust on your shoulders,
Spirit will tenderly welcome you and hold you close,
Till you learn not only that God is Love
But that God loves you and won't let you go until you feel it.