The Book Of Antiquities Poem by Cheryl Lavender

At first glance, one would most certainly pass it by,
For it looked as though it has no merit.
The binding is tattered and torn,
worn and weathered, decayed from abuse.

Its pages have been yellowed and stained,
Bearing the soiled prints of dull fingers
having carelessly caressed the pages through the years.,
doubtlessly seeking the answers for endless questions unresolved.

As it is, just as it appears to be, the shell seems to bear no worth,
But deep within the pages peering through the faded writings
Lie the depths of a life given, a life not worthy to be,
But given still, freely given for a greater purpose not its own.

As one begins to read, it seems as if what was clear begins to fade
Almost as if this book was being re-written.
Something took hold of my soul and I could not put it down,
For I began to realize that this was the revelation of my life,
The complete and perfect working
of God in my life, from sunrise to sunset,
And I knew, instinctively knew,
I had to continue through this transformation.

Each page became a mystery awakened, hope renewed,
Grace established for the days of trials yet to come,
And though it often appeared that the writing would dim
And my faith would falter, in a moment, in an instant
The writing would darken and I knew
that Jesus had reached down and carried me.

Someday I will know the end of this book.
It will bear only the purest of bindings,
and know only the most brilliant leather.
Its pages will be whiter than white, no tears, no fingerprints or smudges.
There will be no questions unresolved,
for all the answers will have born their fruit in Christ alone!
Though it is yet to be finished,
I await the day with anticipation,
When all will be revealed in this Book of Antiquities.