CHAINED TO MY DESK

A pastor commented to me with an inward groan that there were times when he felt like he was chained to his desk as the pastoral burdens weighed him down. These thoughts came to me:

“Chained to my desk!” moaned the Pastor.
“I’m chained! and I long to be free.
There are heights I am longing to conquer!
There are fields that are beckoning me.
The sheep in my flock, as I tend them
Are often so stiff-necked and slow.
They’re mired in a slough of lethargy
As I struggle to teach them to grow.”

But HE answered, “These sheep in My pasture
Are searching for comfort and peace;
And the chains that confine you so tightly
Are to them a sweet balm of release.
I know the discouraging trials,
The frustrating pathways you take.
I too, walked the road of a Shepherd.
But would you stay bound for their sake”

My station was high and exalted,
But I suffered infinite loss.
Instead of the glories of Heaven,
My life here was chained to a cross.
But there’s glory ahead for the faithful.
My glory with them I would share.
And a golden reward you may cast at My feet
When you’ve lost every heartache and care.”

“Chained to my desk,” said the Pastor,
But gone every trace of a frown,
For the chains had taken a golden hue—
“Chained to my desk—by a CROWN!”

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