I know quite a number of them
Maybe not their faces
Maybe not their names
But for sure, their works
Yes, certainly their labour
From the ordinary, the mundane, the petty, and the uncelebrated gestures
Done just for the saviour they hold so dear
Like lighting the lamp on the altar
In that remote village church
To the extraordinary, colossal, heroic, and herculean feats,
like journeying across the continents with the message of hope
Their daring faith is their signatures inscribed on the walls of my faith.
I know quite a number of them
Maybe not their faces
Maybe not their names
But for sure their tribulations
Yes, certainly their perils
From the cruel mocking and scourging, the stoning to death, the slaying by sword, and sawing asunder
All borne for their Lord they hold so dear
Like the early church saw during the reign of terror of emperor Nero
To the fierce brutal repression of the church in the Northern part of my country today.
Their spilt blood is their signature inscribed on the walls of my faith
I have seen quite a number of them
Maybe not their faces
Maybe not their names
But for sure their unprecedented compassion
Yes certainly their unconditional love
From their availability, willingness to help, listening ear, empathy, and selflessness
Like Mother Teresa and other missionaries in the unpleasant places,
Who are completely sold out for Christ, the Lord they hold so dear
To men and women with very big heart who cross my path daily
All these are the saints I know.
AMARA HOPE 