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Lord, I Don't Know

Lord, I Don't Know

Rev. Lajos Békefy and his wife Rev. Claudia Roehrig-Békefy Rev. Lajos Békefy and his wife Rev. Claudia Roehrig-Békefy(Provided by Rev. Lajos Békefy)
ByLajos Békefy April 02, 2021
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How much did you sing 

the psalms of your people, and other songs?

  

But I know your complaining, gently accusing words: 

We played the flute for you and you did not dance; 

we sang weeping, and ye did not mourn.

  

How many flute nights 

did you have a hillside singing class? 

I do not know. But it would be great to know

 since your singing and flute

 always went further than yourself…

 

 I want to sing to you now

 with those who shook their souls in praise of thy great name.

 

 Lord, I don't know how many pictures your heart has kept

 from the beautiful Tiberian Sea,

 before the azure of heaven had received your departing soul,

 and the lilies of the fields,

 about celestial birds,

 when you hug your soul with the farewell glances of your faded eyes;

 of that other earth, and another heaven,

 which never cast you out of itself.

 

 Have you seen the silhouette of the mountains from your cross?

 Where you put on a bright dress of light

 in front of your chosen disciples,

 and you sucked into your tired lungs

 a hot slice blowing towards you from the wilderness.

 

 Have you noticed the carefree birds in the sky,

 and did you taste the semolina flavor of the wanderings?

 Let me go now, Lord,

 to bring for you colors,

 and their worships,

 those who sang to You with their brush mourned your pains.

 

 Lord, I am with them:

 Who are blessing and praising You with their brush and their music

 Worshipers who are worshiping You now with your colors and melodies,

 with the treasures of others,

 for I know that You do not despise my poverty.

 

 I will come to you,

 with melodies of passion and oratory,

 falling to your knees in piano sounds fading with breath,

 with heavenly desire.

 I want to see the days, the colors,

 hear the melodies

 which have remained in your soul forever.

 

 Therefore, this holy week, after the miserable hours of Via Dolorosa

 I am asking with millions of singers of the ancient songs

 Because You have risen for the third day,

 your beauty and your truth,

 the shepherd's staff of your Word

 direct my soul and my word

 to you

 On this festive week too,

 when I tell you these things.

 

 With worship, prayer…

 Lord Jesus, I bring my heart to You,

 thanks for not being too late yet...

 I bring my heart to you

 with my Hungarian brothers,

 Who are Christians in and for Your name

 to whom the sky of the Carpathian Basin also turns blue,

 and who are not yet in a hurry,

 But that you are living,

 Is to us the home

 abandonment,

 Holiday,

 happy celebration

 Rebirth...

 

 Blessed are you, Jesus,

 The Risen Wanderer of heaven and earth,

 who are the Way and the Destination…

 On the Holy Week of this pandemic year,

 In the middle of Europe,

 And far from here, in China

 With Christians there,

 And with all my sisters and brothers

 On the face of the earth.

 I sing the song of the future,

 The anthem of your unique name

 forever and ever, Amen!

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