A Son, Not A Stranger Poem by Emeka GOC Ogaraku

I Am A Son, Not A Stranger
The record is balanced with ink not our own,
A wealth unearned, from a merciful throne.
For we stood in the deficit, heavy with debt,
Where the laws of the baseline and judgment were met.

But the scales have been tipped by a beautiful hand,
An unmerited favour across the dark land.
It is giving the treasures we never could buy,
While holding the lightning that slept in the sky.

No labour of hands and no pride in the stride,
Can open the portal where glories abide.
For the blueprint of heaven is crafted in free,
A bridge over chasms for you and for me.

The text of Ephesians is stamped on the gate:
Not of works, lest a mortal should boast of their state.
From Titus to Romans, the message runs clear
A justified freedom has swallowed our fear.

Yet the gift is not frozen in history's page,
It walks through the tremors and storms of our age.
When the sinews are weary and spirit is low,
And the cracks in our fragile biology show,

A whisper comes down to the thorn in the chest:
My grace is sufficient to give you your rest.
For power is perfected when structures give way,
And weakness is turned to the shield of the day.

So approach the high throne where the curtains are torn,
Not in terror or trembling, but boldly reborn.
In the hour of panic, the moment of need,
The baseline of heaven is guaranteed seed.
It saves us, it shields us, it alters the pace,
The timeless, unmerited anchor of Grace.

My debt is paid in full; I owe no one but God,
My place is secured in Christ, at the right hand of God.
My sins and relapses derail me, but can't strip me from God,
By His virtues I am a son, not a stranger to my Lord.

Nothing can separate me from the love of my Lord,
Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demon's sword.