Brother Fuller, Overflowing

His voice almost an auctioneer’s

His tone assured, authoritative

His words convicting

Pure scripture many times

And with joy unspeakable:

“We are beholders, containers

Of the supernatural, my friends.

Time and again Pentecost comes

Perhaps not with the grandeur

Of that First Church

But warmly, honestly

And with the fragrance of Christ.

We know of our roots, our journey

Our cleansing

Unavoidable trials

Certain destination.

We have been called

We remember the Spirit’s wooing

We know not why

We only rejoice

Circumstances notwithstanding.

That oppressive world says

We are tied up in knots

By rules and by fear.

In so saying they are part wrong and part right

No not rules but constraining love

Not dread of the Almighty

But holy compunction never to disappoint.

Love’s captives we are.

And thankful for it.

We take the abuse

Forgive at all costs

Share what little we have

Speak the good report

Stop at the gutter

To uplift the tear-streaked ones.

It’s the life force of Jesus

Nothing of our manufacture

And isn’t it wonderful?

Unlike any other known joy?

There are some here

Who need the transaction

They know it

You know it…Brother…Sister…Child.

The invitation will be given shortly.”


Just then the choir

Off to the side in that summer’s tent

Began singing:

Tell me the old old story

Of unseen things above

Of Jesus and His glory

Of Jesus and His love.



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