Backstage
Leah Akinlonu
How do you compare a pen to a double-edged knife?
How does telling a story change a life?
How are powerful productions made?
What are the secrets, what is the price paid?
What goes on behind the closed doors of a drama minister?
Is it straightforward or is it sinister?
Exposed: nothing is hidden under the sun
Let’s take a look at what is done
Revealed: they pray and seek God’s face
Desiring that He would take His place
They cry out to ensure that self has died
That no room would be given to pride
They ask the Lord to bind them in unity
That their hearts may be ablaze with purity
That their foundation may be right
That they build only upon the Rock Christ
Again they cry out for humility
For hearts that honor the Lord totally
That they might steadfastly preach the gospel
That as stewards they would be found faithful
That as holy people they would behave
Not taking their talents to the grave
That in holiness they would possess their souls
Minds stayed on the One who makes them whole
But wait, is it possible that there’s nothing more?
What else do they do, what is at their core?
How are they able to stay the course?
What do they rely on, what is their source?
Made clear: they desire that in them would be love
Flowing through them from above
That God’s purpose would be fulfilled without limit
As they diligently walk in the Spirit
That by Him they might be quickened
Relying on Him for every decision
That they would each one count the cost
And pay any price to reach the lost
That as living sacrifices from heaven inspired
God’s Word would come through them like fire
That like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces
They would express God’s strength despite their own weakness
That they leave no stone unfinished at the quarry
That the temple may be built for God’s glory
That when God seeks prepared vessels they would be found
This is the work done backstage and underground
This is how their pens are like double-edged knives
This is how their story-telling changes lives
This is how powerful productions are made
These are the secrets, this is the price paid
© 2020 PILGRIMS’ POEMS
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