The Call of St. Matthew (Caravaggio)





When Jesus enters the room
My hands are still on the money
Fingers fiddling

My mind distracted by it
My soul oppressed by its demands
My heart tangled in its deception

Then glancing sideward
I see the Hand outstretched
Finger pointing like a new creation’s
Dawning light

And when He speaks
It is clear that I cannot
Serve both God and money
It is He that I must follow

However harrowed be my life

I grow younger as I near Him
A beauty ever ancient
Emerges ever new

Sitting with Him at table
We sinners are drawn in
To an intimacy Most Divine

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