JUST ABIDE HEBREWS 10:10

Are we made Holy by beating ourselves

Or by struggling to be good?

By striping ourselves of raiment, food?

Is poverty the true mood?

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North India, a holy man did his thing.

Wore nothing but a turban and rags!

Floppiest turban, filthiest rags!

Of poverty brags!

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One such ragged, Holiest of All,

Prostrated self on the road,

Flat out, front of our motorcar,

Like, maybe an old model T Ford.

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Lakhimpur, yes, still on the map!

Been there at least 90 years,

Auto transported from stateside then

Persuasive, my father, with peers.

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Perhaps considered frivolous

By Carey or by Livingstone,

But fifty miles travel over rough trails

And rivers from sun up until setting sun!

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Back to the holy man in the city!

My father moved him aside,

But by the time he got back in the auto,

The poor beggar contrived–

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To fall in front of our car again!

This repeated several times

Until our Berah offered to lend a hand.

“Sahib, I will hold him until time.”

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Berah with heavy foot on the beggar,

Waited until auto was past,

Then ran, jumped on the running board,

Free of poor Hindu at last.

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Could pray all day with a Hindu then

Would be of the same mind still.

Nirvana can only be reached regressively,

Life’s lowest form downhill!

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Many converted from higher cast (class)

I recall one such man.

Feasted with us, many others outdoors,

Kindly and not by cast banned!

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Curry on rice an Indian staple.

We sat on white cobblestones.

My Indian friend, high class converted,

Spoke covertly in undertone!

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“Chota, Sahib, no fork is needed, sir,

Dip first two fingers so

With thumb, then flip morsel into mouth

Repeat until no food below!”

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This convert, with his kindly smile,

Middle aged then long ago,

In Heaven I am sure I will recognize

His face, his smile I will know!

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Wholeness, way to get there, just one,

Stay close to Jesus that is all!

Looking to Him we are cleansed, purified!

Abide, you will never fall!

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John 15:1-7

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Sam Cox

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