Remember Your Creator in the Days of your youth.

Dear God,

Before Your throne of grace I stand to present a plea and pledge from my young heart. What a pleasure to know You in my tender years. What joy to sit on Your lap, press my ear against Your heart to hear from You. When others older are still searching for something to quench their thirsty souls, what joy it is to have called off the search in my youth. I found it! You found me, and gave me a drink from the well that will never run dry. Souled out for you when others are for sale. And now I’m on a quest to know you and the power of your resurrection, to be of the Galatians 2:20 kind.


I am always aware of Your splendour. Your majesty is always before me, a vivid picture of the King of Glory seated high and exalted on a throne, the train of Your robe filling the temple. I try to articulate the grandeur I see with my eyes, but words of human wisdom and comprehension fail me. The only that manage to escape my awe struck lips are Holy, Holy is the Lord God almighty, the whole earth is filled with His glory.


My heart is overflowing with You, but I’m young, Lord.  How can I keep my ways pure before You? When they speak profanity, how can I speak praise? When they parade their bodies to be grabbed and defiled by filthy hands, how can I present mine as a living sacrifice from which a sweet smelling aroma rises to meet Your nostrils? When they sit and eat from Jezebel’s table, selling your truth for a piece of her meat, silenced by its morsels, how can I boldly stand on every peak, to speak about the table You have set before me? When youthful passions burn them til they give in to its flames like to funeral pyre, how can I escape without a singe? And then Your still small voice: by living according to Your Word. I will hide Your Word in my heart so I can remember You.


Like Joseph, I will remember You when I’m a prisoner, and remember You still when I’m prime minister. I will flee from sin and leave my coat behind, just so I can take You with me.

Like Shadrack, Meshack and Abednego, I will steel my knees and my will to bow before no god but You. I’m willing to face the fiery furnace with You.

Like David, I will disregard these heels and this suit and dance before You with all my might, not caring who despises me.



Like Timothy, I will not let anyone despise me because of my youth, but I will set an example for the believers in speech that is full of grace and seasoned with salt; in life that is a letter about you, known and read by everyone; in love that is not word or talk, but in deed and truth, in faith that cannot be shaken, and in purity that cannot be accused.

Like the boy Samuel, I will stay in Your temple and heed Your call. Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening. And when fear grips me because of the charge You give me, You will touch my mouth, give me words, extinguish my fear, and tell me not to say I’m only a child, but to go where You send me, and say what You command me.


You’re infinitely bigger than a status update, I cannot possibly contain you in a tweet. But I will remember You with both. I don’t desire my name in lights, they can keep their coat of many colours, I just want You. Let them keep believing their humanisms, pantheisms and atheisms, I’ll keep declaring my Jesus-ism.


While zeal consumes me, and my bones can still carry me, I will remember You, Lord. Remove every dagon and every baal, every Herod and every golden calf before me, and allow me to see You. When familiarity makes my love grow cold, blow into the dying embers and revive them, let me return to my first love. Be imprinted in my heart, so it’s always filled with reverence. Be a constant presence, so I inhale you, and exhale worship. I just want to remember You, Lord.


So that when my lit is dim, and my voice is faint; before I take my last bow and the curtain closes on me; before the ground opens up to receive the dust which it formed; when my lamp is about to be snuffed out, I can say I remembered my Creator, in the days of my youth.


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