Something Undeniable Poem by Denis Martindale

As the Gospel Crusade was advertised far and wide,
A great number was expected to hear this fiery preacher,
The tent was erected and the lights were installed,
Then the seats were set up row upon row...

The choir rehearsed for half-an-hour
And a few Church stewards arrived
And a few local ministers followed suit,
Soon a prayer meeting began with many requests,
Healings, prophecies, words of knowledge,
A sincere hope the offering would cover the costs...

A guest pianist arrived, complaining about the weather,
A few going outside to see the thunder streaks above,
Some fretting about low attendance and the lost souls,
Others fretting about the offering even now...

Suddenly, the fiery preacher arrived and spirits rallied,
He moved among them like a politician full of smiles,
He shook hands here, there and everywhere,
Recognising ministers, calling them near to him,
Huddling together like generals going into battle...

Laughing away like schoolboys, chuckling at anecdotes,
Spellbound by reports of new miracles God had given,
Praising the Lord this and praising the Lord that,
With hands held high proclaiming God's glory...

Then the guest came over and it was his turn to join in,
With stories of his own miracles to bless them with,
Oh, they were thrilled, like it was their birthdays,
All clustered side-by-side, trying to take it all in,
Hoping to share the tales when returning home...

The sweet hymns played soothingly in the background,
Yet not one singer dared to interrupt them,
But then the visitors were seen gathering outside,
Too timid to enter the Gospel Crusade tent...

Quick as a flash, the fiery preacher was there,
Gently inviting each one inside where it was warm and dry,
Within seconds, a few rows at the front were filled,
A quick nod to the choir and they lit up like sunshine,
Faces aglow, hymnbooks held high, voices of angels,
Yes, it was truly beautiful to see and to hear them,
With white robes as wondrous witnesses to the Lord...

More visitors had arrived, this time, a coach load full,
Some visitors just standing in awe, taking it all in,
While some noticed a few tables laid out with books,
And wondrous books they were, pure gold, to be sure...

Really, Holy Bibles for just a few pounds, amazing!
Yet there they were, a special purchase for this evening,
Some illustrated children's Bibles, too, for those at home
And surprisingly, some Gospel films, DVDs and videos,
Truly a feast of faithful things for later study...

All too soon, the fiery preacher stood up and prayed,
The tent completely full, as if predestined to occur,
The lightning replaced by the preacher's sermon,
Then he began reading a poem he had written that day...

It was so moving to him that he struggled to read it,
All about Jesus, dying on the Cross, as if just for him...
And not even half-way through, his tears began...
Nobody had ever seen him like this before, this was new,
This was real, so real, that the front rows began to weep,
So real that the next few rows began to weep, too...

Handkerchieves came out of gentlemen's top pockets,
Ladies found tissues from their Sunday-best handbags,
Reporters took camera shots of the teary-eyed preacher,
Then the crowd, then the stewards and local ministers,
Then the reporters began to weep, heads bowed...

The fiery preacher sat down and his friend read the poem,
All the while, the preacher nodding his head in agreement
And at the finish of his poem, he stood up and prayed...
He prayed a prayer that would make a cynic repent...
Then he asked people if they loved Jesus as he did...

Did they? Oh, yes, for such was the revelation that night,
Not just words on a page, or the teardrops falling there,
Not just the sermon that sacred night just for them,
But something else, something truly of the Spirit,
Something undeniable that no-one would ever forget...