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Bulding Bridges
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

BUILDING BRIDGES

This coloured world has many creeds
That rip God’s church apart
With bridges God can meet the needs
And calm the troubled heart

Bridges can be shades black to white
Leading to arms held wide
No border need be crossed at night
Welcome are “ALL” inside

No toll, blockade, passport or map
Permits pass or visas
All that we need to bridge the gap
Is personal love in Jesus

Extend God’s love, with outstretched hand
See if then you make it
How quick they’ll learn to understand
Once they hold and shake it

No wood or steel could ever span
The rifts that yawn between
Yet with God’s help a caring man
May build what can’t be seen

In Christ alone can one survive
In Him we each should build
Each bridge in Christ will come alive
All disagreements stilled

Let’s form above demonic slime
God’s bridge of living stone
As one; we’ll cross the rift of time
When changed from flesh and bone

So answer now Salvation’s call
There’s no-more time to hide
In truth no bridge will ever fall
For God stands on our side.....

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Submitted: Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Last Updated: Thursday, July 21, 2011

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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