Commissioned – Written Upon the Departure of Bob Fish to the Northwest Territories
New paths must be walked in faith, in trust,
Knowing that the Trailblazer is true.
Fate has no place in the servant’s trade,
The call instead makes hope assured.
God! He provides in incredible ways,
Directs us through darkened passes.
Calamities rise, dreams are woke from,
And we find that our fantasies were really nightmares.
Thus it is, the Isaacs to which we cling,
Are sacrificed to the One who gave them,
Yet He often gives them back,
Amazingly transformed, raised from the dead.
Many missionaries are sent out,
When what they had held dear is changed,
Revealed to be a strand of glitter,
Or purified, refined like gold.
We so oft wait for epiphanies,
Stand waiting at a bush with matches in hand.
Perhaps we moan when things are changed.
Indignant that life does not consult us.
Maybe we bang on doors long shut,
Maybe we mourn what might have been.
What if instead we looked to God,
And sought Him for what we should do next?
Missionaries simply recognize that God
Their Maker, their Lover, their Friend,
Know’s everything about them and will direct them,
To the place that they are needed then.
And so it is with you, dear brother,
Upset from routine, that being a commission:
A calling. You’re sent. Now go.