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A Pastor's Poem
A Pastor's Poem Anonymous You never really know what a man goes though, until you have walked a mile in his shoes. What cushy shoes, it might be said, must a pastor have in which to tread. He only works one day a week, and even then he must only speak. He's got no boss getting on his case, all he must do is run some race. His responsibilities are not substantial, all he must do is be an example. He just preaches about the crucifixion, and endures hardness and affliction. While others are hanging out with their buddies, he is alone poring over his studies. When others are with friends for a couple of beers, he is at home shedding some tears. He receives from men no praise nor reward, but instead bears the burden of the word of the Lord. He longs again to be just one of the guys, but he knows that to do so would be his demise. While his flock are pursuing their dreams and goals, he is on his knees giving an account for their souls. While many live a life free of burden and care, he gives himself wholly to the ministry of the word and prayer. On a Sunday afternoon when others are blessed, he is exhausted and often deeply depressed. Though Satan with all his fury him would destroy, by God's grace he will sow in tears but reap in joy. As one that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, he shall doubtless come again rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.