I have just enough wits to know that I am stupid, which is sort of cruel on Your part, when I dwell on it. I’m not a fierce warrior or a romantic poet or a powerful prince. I am not wise or learned. I don’t even have a decent name.
I am a small man. My name is Agur.
I don’t have lands or flocks or sons. All I have are questions. For You. What is Your Name? Will You allow me to speak it? Do You have a Son? What is His name? If I keep trying to find You, will the effort destroy me? Should I let You destroy me?
“Who hath gathered the wind in His fist? Who hath bound the waters in a garment?” ~from the words of Agur in Proverbs 30:4
I look into the expanse of the sky and the depth of the sea and I know that You are, and that You are pure and true. I know You are a strong shield. I know You will protect me. But I am not wise, and I don’t know these things for sure. Perhaps I desire them too much to entertain the idea that these qualities You possess might not be true. I trust You, and I’m not always certain that’s wise.
I fear You, for I know of Your power.
I fear myself as well, for I know my weakness, and so, here, again, I cry out to You:
Two things have I required of Thee: deny them not before I die: Remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: Lest I be full, and deny Thee, and say, “Who is the Lord?” or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.
~Proverbs 30: 7-9
I don’t know if You hear me, for I beg to be unnoticed; average. My prayer to You is such that I can’t know if You grant it or ignore me. I suppose this is faith.
I do not want to be special or pitied. I do not want an audience who applauds or reviles. I do not need to be heard; I need to know You. I would rather be ignored and unseen, for I want people only to see You when they look upon me, because if people would only look at You, they would see mystery and poetry and love. They would not solve or understand these things, but they would know their value. They would see the wonder in small things, the beauty in simple ones. They would see the strength of love, the power of mercy, the vast reaches of grace.
Maybe then, they would cease from their endless attempts at control and conquest.
I long to know You, Your name, Your heart. I want to thank You for the ability to try to speak to You, for these eyes that are always looking for You. Thank You for being so hard to find; for the heartache of the search, for Your powerful silence, Your still small voice. Thank You for the strength to keep searching. Thank You for the ant and the filth and the eagle and the needy and the spider. Thank You for the grave and the earth and for the fire. Thank You for the serpent and the ship and the woman. Thank You for the lion. Thank You for my foolish mind. Thank You for hiding me in between the words of the wise and the poetic. Thank You for making something out of my endless questions, my small attempts at poetry, even my ridiculous name.
Every word of God is pure: He is a shield unto them that put their trust in Him. ~Proverbs 30:5
(The beautiful unnoticed poetry of Agur can be found in Proverbs 30.)