January 1975
“Has anyone seen my Son?”
Who then shall come?
Who then shall love?
Whom can I trust?
Will you be there when I need you?
Will you be able to hear me?
Or will you, too, be deaf to my voice?
Where are you, my little flock?
Where are you?
Where are you when I call?
Are you, too, lost in the chaos of this world?
Have you not heeded my voice?
Are you too drugged by the charisma of today?
My little ones, please listen to me,
or you too will be swallowed up,
Swallowed up, not in victory, but in the snare of sin.
My paths will always lead to victory,
But on my paths there lies a certain roughness,
A roughness which rubs the stones smooth
For my stones must be smooth, they must fit exactly,
They must be ready and polished, polished by my own hand,
Ready to be placed where I know they must fit.
Some will be large, and others will be small,
But all must fit exactly into my building,
Into the place of my appointment.
Be fruitful my little ones,
For the fruit of my tree is lush, and the foliage richly green.
Was it not so in my Garden?
Has it not been so since the beginning?
This fruit comes direct from my hands, not from within you;
My fruit is that which you pick, and make part of yourself.
My fruit is sweet in the mouth, but bitter in the stomach.
Are you willing, my little ones, to taste and eat?
Have I not given you the example, the example for all to follow?
Who is the example? Is He not my Son?
He ate the fruit from my own hands;
It was sweet in His mouth, but bitter in His stomach.
This is the only way.
There is no other way.
This is the path you must tread, or else you see me not.
Are you there?
Are you listening?
Does your heart say yes?
Be unto me as my Son, and you will be my child too.
Has anyone seen my Son?
Has ANYONE seen my Son?
Have you? Or you? Or you?
Yes, I have seen my Son.
He is here with me.
But what do you see when you look at my Son?
Do you see HIM, or what you WANT to see?
He is here for all to know;
He is here for all to love,
But have you seen my Son?
Have you? Or you? Or you?
Do you love my Son, or do you THINK you love Him?
If you say you do,
will you follow on and be misunderstood, and hated?
If you truly love my Son, your feet will be planted in His footsteps.
Those footprints have seen many weary feet, feet that drag.
If you really love my Son, you will be here one day.
But my Son is not here because His life was one long joy ride.
No! He overcame, but in that word there is struggle and anguish,
Toil and pain.
Where are my people at war?
Where are my people who care?
Care, not only for their fellow men, but for me?
Where are those who care?
Care about my plans, my overall purpose?
I am calling, but so few hear.
I am calling, but so few care.
Where are you?
Where are those who love my Son?
For I am here! Not over there! I am here!
