Lamar Howell's Weblog

It’s not Creation’s making that enthralls me

Nor miracles of Heaven’s cosmic plan

The titles by his name or any mystery

But the little things that help me understand.

Like the farmer who brought roosters to the market

and lost one in the pressing angry crowd

And how he recognized its cock-a-doodle

But left it there for history to record

Or the stable hand who fumbled through the basket

and shaking, gave the Roman soldier nails.

And watched him as he put them in his pocket,

mumbling how the scoundrels never paid.

It’s not so much that soldiers stripped him naked

But the dice they rolled and cast with grubby hands

and the pencil Pilate used to write the message

or the ching of silver coins upon the tiles

It’s not the fact that multitudes accused him

But the Pharisee seen biting on his locks

And not how Peter cursed when he denied him

but the crackle of the fire as he spoke

Yes the most important things should be repeated

As long as earth remains until He comes

But some little things get lost within the story

Plus a million more that no one ever saw.