The Pharisee And I Poem by Trevor Schulte

Standing on the street corner,
his ego puffed out;
claiming a sign of perfection
and faith without doubt.
Trouble does not face,
the overflowing grace,
of him who seems
to spit in God's face.
I cringe back
when I'm in his midst,
hitting the ground,
as his feet are kissed.
To be in his presence
and not be scolded,
is reaching a point
where the mystery is unfolded.
For who am I to question
this wise man's discretion,
because all I do
is fish for a profession.
But wait, Who is that,
that comes through the crowds;
treasured as though
he were a Mosaic rain cloud?
Walking in such confidence,
He approaches the Pharisee and I.
My knees hit the ground,
while the Pharisee looks Him in the eye.
His eyes scan the both of us
as He announces His name is Jesus.
I am brought to fear
at the sound of His name,
dreading the sins
of which, I'm to blame.
The Pharisee seems to stand in pride,
having nothing to hide,
but caressing his words
with a tone that is snide.
My wimpers are overtaken
with Jesus' overbearing voice,
'Stand oh fisher,
and face My choice.'
I stood up, my knees shaking,
ready to say my final amen;
He then spoke, 'Come my child
and I'll make you a fisher of men.'
My eyes shot up
at His startling decision!
but maybe in me,
He sees a vision?
For in the eyes of this Lord
Who will forever speak,
His trust will lay
in the hands of the meek.