Poezie The Toughest Job.... Pastor

Someone got upset

Last week with what he said

He'd read the Scriptures,

Made a point, just as he was led



Monday came and Monday went

Without a word of cheer

Encouragement was what he craved

But none would come he feared



Tuesday saw some sunshine

Cheerful, warm and bright

Then there came a waking call

Late into the night.



A cherished soul he knew so well

Held lightly to this life

She'd made a call but couldn't wait

And left before he arrived.



By midweek's day the clouds rolled in

Still, things hadn't gotten better

The roof was dripping silent tears

And the pews were getting wetter.



When Thursday came

He'd had enough

"Lord, this is too hard,

Why is this road so rough?"



Now, if he had thought

The heavens would open

Only silence would answer

That question of hoping.



So, he fell into bed

And groaned in his soul

The church and the people

Their problems - their toll.



But the very next morning

He was met with surprise

A searching soul was set free

And had tears in their eyes.



A pastor is made

Of the same earthen clay

As you and as I -

So would it hurt you to say.



"I appreciate you,

You're a lighthouse to me.

God has used you in my life

And have helped me to be



The right kind of vessel

The Master can use

To be a blessing to others

How could I refuse."



The moral it seems

To this amateur prose

Is, bless your dear pastor

It means more than you know.