Shall I, for fear of self exaltation,
Fear of harming the fragile faith of some
Who may faint under deferring promises,
Fear of drawing attention and admiration away from You,
And toward myself,
Fear that my shortcomings will sully Your goodness,
Fear that I might become my own idol?

Shall I, for this, bury my light under a bushel,
Play timid and embrace forms,
Truncate your promises for the pallet of my audience,
Deny your infinite and present desire
To heal, deliver and save,
And Your incomparable authority to do so
By diluting Your Good News,
Or worse, by refraining to boldly speak
Refuse the right You conferred on me
To do miracles in your Name?

What will be the result of my cowardice?
Only, that the glorious and extreme salvation
Of life over death,
Of fear-obliterating love, freedom and power,
Gained by Your blood & cross
Lay unrealized.
That the travail of Your soul is not satisfied.

Shall I bow to the fear of man,
Or, to the Lord of Life
And Maker of all mankind?

Bob Weidman