Yesterday, I shared with you what happened at our church last Sunday evening.  A friend and member of the praise team had asked the question:

A ten minute segment stretched into 50 minutes and nobody cared that it did.  It was one of those moments that a person never forgets.

I went to bed that night and was soon asleep.  And then I woke with the question in my mind.  Sleep did not return.  I looked at the digital clock: 2:22 AM.  Head back on pillow I tried to sleep.  Sleep would not cooperate.  It was now 2:47.  I got up, put on my glasses and came into the office.  The scene outside my window invited a long look.  Then I began to compose some thoughts.

The Question

I stood the midnight watch atop the rampart
Sleep who wrapped me in her arms had fled
And loving mercy withheld slumber

The year was not yet three weeks old
In the frosty silence above the sleeping world
The hunter made his nightly circuit of the sky

The gibbous moon veiled the scene in ghostly light
And that weak light diminished the stars’ shine
Though its glory is but a poor reflection of the greater

A friend had shared from sincere heart
The thought with which he wrestled
The burning question in his mind

What does it look like to be a Christian
How do you know, how can you spot
That which is real from what is not

As I pondered on the thought and on my friend
My thoughts were bent toward persistent grace
And along side is untiring love

The fruit is borne on the inside
Outwardly, the form and fashion vary
Each of us a Work in Progress

What would your answer have been?